So I was just hanging out at my apartment the other night, yodeling myself to tumescence, when all of a sudden, the phone rang. This week's recap will include some excerpts from the ensuing conversation:
HBO Head of Programming Chris Albrecht: Hi. Is Aaron there?
Chris Albrecht: Well, thank God. Otherwise, how would you breathe?
Aaron: Damn it, is this Mike Binder again? 'Cuz if it is, I'm calling the cops this time.
Chris Albrecht: Nope. It's HBO Head of Programming Chris Albrecht. I was just calling to find out what happened to our love.
Aaron: We were in love?
Chris Albrecht: Well, yeah. I mean, you raved about what turned out to be a sub-par Sopranos season, you loved Six Feet Under, even if it did take you a while to come around, and my copies of your confidential TiVo logs indicate that you're a huge fan of Real Sex and G-String Divas. So now I'm just wondering why you gotta be so mean to MoMM all the time?
Aaron: Uh, have you seen the show?
Chris Albrecht: Of course. That Brian Benben is one funny dude.
Aaron: What? Who?
All right. I need to level with you. This is the first time I've ever been entrusted with the awesome responsibility of consigning a show to the Permanent Hiatus dustbin of history. As such, I feel compelled to provide you with a truly stellar recap, kicked off with a witty and insightful opening paragraph that lays out just how truly awful the show is while simultaneously presenting an interesting and humorous metaphor that will help you understand my suffering. To that end, I've considered and rejected any number of potential openings. I had a pretty good one about how the whole "Television Without Pity" thing obviously doesn't apply to recappers, as Sars felt my pain acutely enough to cancel the show. Then there was another one artfully rhyming the fact that MoMM is so freaking awful it couldn't even outlast Wolf Lake, for God's sake. And of course, as is my wont, I also had an elaborately constructed (and, as you may also assume, alliterative) homage to various female recappers and forum regulars that compared and contrasted Mike Binder's eternal egotism with my own somewhat stalker-ish style. But sadly, I found that none of them could ever really do justice to the absolute bottomless depths of crap this show has subjected us to, which in the end is why you're getting a process paragraph rather than the real thing. So, yeah. Sorry about that.
But, then again, how can I be sorry about anything that might mean the end of MoMM? This is, after all, a joyous occasion, a time for levity and celebration, for parties and for festivals. So I say we all meet at Pontoon's house next Sunday night to get really drunk and show Mike Binder that, no matter how hard he may try, he'll never be able to ruin our lives. That's not a problem, is it, Pontoon? No? Good. See you there.