The list of things the media has ruined with overexposure is huge. Numerous celebrities started hitting the pipe because of the sudden fame. (Hi, Gretchen Mol post-Vanity Fair nipple cover.) Countless TV shows promptly jumped the shark because of all the pressure. (Aaron Sorkin, did you drop something?) Hundreds of bands with catchy debut singles couldn't, or refused to, make a second album that would satisfy the heightened expectations of their sudden fans. (Sorry, Len. That was it. All you get.) But for some reason, that doesn't seem to have happened, so far, to The Osbournes. In Hollywood terms: In this case, like that of The Simpsons, the product remains, despite the total media saturation, solid. In normal conversational terms: The show still kicks ass.
Ozzy, in his black workout gear with headband, shows his only ally in the house, the cameraman, how simple his television is, compared to all the other ultra-complicated gadgets in the house. He says that he's been going on about simplicity and this is what he means, and proceeds to show how when you hit power, it comes on. The clicker is simple. The volume control is simple. "Piece of piss," he calls it, which I guess is a good thing. He then says it works every time, and turns it on only to find some new DirectTV-looking scrolling menu at the top of the screen. He mumbles about "What the fuck is this?" and "This is not allowed, what's happened to it?" His brain very slowly tries to compute and figure out what's happened, but it can't. Finally, he puts down the remote and yells, "Jack!"
And once again we get the cheerful theme song. Man, I missed this. New photos for the "characters'" credits. Sharon looks beautiful, but skinny. Jack spits water into the sink. Kelly laughs, holding onto a mic. And Ozzy dances around in the living room.
"What Goes Up…" the first titles read. And then there's Lola, eating grass in the yard. The person the popularity of the show has done the most good for is Lola. There is no way that she would ever end up in the pound if the fam decided they'd had enough of her alien shits in the house. Other dogs fight. Sharon pets Arthur, and then Pipi, who is home. I guess someone found Pipi. I hope they caught the thief. The bastards. Four other dogs watch as Lola distance-pukes on the lawn. Nice. Welcome to Season Two.
Ozzy stands at the side of his house, throwing knives into a wood target and missing every one with a big clang. Kelly stands nearby, holding her pussy. (A cat! C'mon, I have to make that lame joke every once in a while. It's good for the blood.) When a knife ricochets too close, she bails, saying, "Fuck this, I'm outta here." Good call, missy.
Jack, riding for some reason in a short bus past the house, calls a maid or something, telling them to turn on the sprinklers because there are people standing on their lawn. We then cut to a tourist girl peeking in the big wood gate, and jets of water blasting her in the face. Hee. That rules. I wish I had one of those for when someone lets their dog shit on my lawn and doesn't clean it up. Oh, yeah, I do. It's called a hose. Meanwhile, Ozzy continues his unsuccessful knife-throwing.