MONDO EXTRAS

The 2003-2004 Tubey Awards, Part Five

Best Argument Against Fictional Democracy
President Daaayyyyyvid Palmer. And we're supposed to buy insurance from that dude during the commercials? I don't think so. Get the car, we're moving to Canada. -- Sars

Most Unlikely Breakout Star of the Season
It would be a crime to even consider handing this award to anyone but Donald Trump. Not since John Travolta in Pulp Fiction has anyone catapulted more quickly from the depths of cultural irrelevance to the heights of cool. Alternately awkward, fearless, pitiable, and clueless, Trump tore into The Apprentice with manic energy. We love his crazy, megalomaniacal, deluded ass. -- Miss Alli

Worst Abuse of the Credulity Strain-o-Meter
In a show that expects us to accept a girl who knows how to use the word "acerbic" correctly, yet confuses "gulag" with "goulash," "pariah" with "piranha," and "messianic complex" with "miscellaneous complex," the linguistic goofiness doesn't hold a candle to the idiocy that results when Joan decides to act on God's order to help her mother around the house. Taking it upon herself to do the laundry, Joan decides to climb into the washing machine to mash the clothes down, managing to sprain her ankle when, through a series of events making little to no logical sense, the machine starts operating and Joan ends up upside-down, flailing and shouting as she hangs out of the machine by one leg and her brother Luke runs around in a panic. Whatever comic value the scene might have had was drained out of it by the sheer insulting stupidity of it all. Surely there was a more credible way to get Joan to the hospital to meet Doctor God for her next encounter with the Almighty. We might buy God appearing as a giant hot dog, but this just wasn't gonna wash. And of Helen Girardi, a woman with three teenagers -- and a full-time job outside the home -- who is such a control freak that none of her children has ever been taught to do laundry, well…the less said, the better. -- Deborah

Most Bungled Introduction of a Relationship Obstacle
Perhaps she was supposed to be Camille Claudel to Adam Rove's Auguste Rodin, but the introduction of Iris Did-We-Ever-Learn-Her-Last-Name? was bollixed from the get-go, starting with the casting of Misti Traya and her cringe-inducing, wince-tastic voice, by turns squeaky, nasal, and babyish. We might have welcomed the roadblock thrown in the already troubled path of Joan and Adam had the entry of Iris The Annoying Plot Device been written with a little more finesse, which would have obviated the unconvincing PTSD-related meltdown in her first episode. As the season wore on, some of us managed to conjure a modicum of sympathy for Iris's obvious loneliness, insecurity, and deep-down awareness that she was way into a sweet guy who liked her well enough but loved someone else. Having Joan openly mock her voice helped, too. Still, it was too little, too late. Iris was ultimately more Schlemiel Plot-Hell than Camille Claudel. -- Deborah

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The 2003-2004 Tubey Awards, Part Five

Best Argument Against Fictional Democracy
President Daaayyyyyvid Palmer. And we're supposed to buy insurance from that dude during the commercials? I don't think so. Get the car, we're moving to Canada. -- Sars

Most Unlikely Breakout Star of the Season
It would be a crime to even consider handing this award to anyone but Donald Trump. Not since John Travolta in Pulp Fiction has anyone catapulted more quickly from the depths of cultural irrelevance to the heights of cool. Alternately awkward, fearless, pitiable, and clueless, Trump tore into The Apprentice with manic energy. We love his crazy, megalomaniacal, deluded ass. -- Miss Alli

Worst Abuse of the Credulity Strain-o-Meter
In a show that expects us to accept a girl who knows how to use the word "acerbic" correctly, yet confuses "gulag" with "goulash," "pariah" with "piranha," and "messianic complex" with "miscellaneous complex," the linguistic goofiness doesn't hold a candle to the idiocy that results when Joan decides to act on God's order to help her mother around the house. Taking it upon herself to do the laundry, Joan decides to climb into the washing machine to mash the clothes down, managing to sprain her ankle when, through a series of events making little to no logical sense, the machine starts operating and Joan ends up upside-down, flailing and shouting as she hangs out of the machine by one leg and her brother Luke runs around in a panic. Whatever comic value the scene might have had was drained out of it by the sheer insulting stupidity of it all. Surely there was a more credible way to get Joan to the hospital to meet Doctor God for her next encounter with the Almighty. We might buy God appearing as a giant hot dog, but this just wasn't gonna wash. And of Helen Girardi, a woman with three teenagers -- and a full-time job outside the home -- who is such a control freak that none of her children has ever been taught to do laundry, well…the less said, the better. -- Deborah

Most Bungled Introduction of a Relationship Obstacle
Perhaps she was supposed to be Camille Claudel to Adam Rove's Auguste Rodin, but the introduction of Iris Did-We-Ever-Learn-Her-Last-Name? was bollixed from the get-go, starting with the casting of Misti Traya and her cringe-inducing, wince-tastic voice, by turns squeaky, nasal, and babyish. We might have welcomed the roadblock thrown in the already troubled path of Joan and Adam had the entry of Iris The Annoying Plot Device been written with a little more finesse, which would have obviated the unconvincing PTSD-related meltdown in her first episode. As the season wore on, some of us managed to conjure a modicum of sympathy for Iris's obvious loneliness, insecurity, and deep-down awareness that she was way into a sweet guy who liked her well enough but loved someone else. Having Joan openly mock her voice helped, too. Still, it was too little, too late. Iris was ultimately more Schlemiel Plot-Hell than Camille Claudel. -- Deborah

Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12Next

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