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List o’ the Week: 15 Greatest Tragedies #3-1

Just jumping into the list? You can see the previous installments to the list (covering #’s 4-15) by visiting the “15 Greatest Hollywood Tragedies” category button. Meanwhile, while you hop into your blog-Delorian, the rest of us are moving onward and upward (or is it “downward” when you’re talking tragedies?) with the Top 3 of the 15 Greatest Tragedies list. You could also just keep scrolling down this blog page.

Without further delay, it’s on….it’s on…it’s on….it’s on. Get the Patron, we’re finishing this jawn up!

The Kids Don’t Get It 15 Greatest Hollywood Tragedies #3-1

#3 Silk Stalkingssilk_stalkings-show

Man, kids nowadays don’t know how good they have it, and yet, how bad at the same time. Proof: the internet and Silk Stalkings. The internet, home to videos, websites and ‘movies’ of people doing each other with the reckless abandon and tenderness of tasered monkeys, made a show like Silk Stalkings completely obsolete.

Before we get any further, a brief word or 400 about Silk Stalkings. It was, first and foremost, awesome. Silk followed the seedy, sexy cases that took place in Palm Beach, Florida where everyone was murdered after banging each other. Fortunately, the series’ detectives, Chris and Rita, were always on the case (and sometimes each other!). And what cases they were too. These cops had the sweetest gigs ever, as Silk Stalkings’ writing staff created the sort of compelling, one-of-a-kind cases that’d have thousands lining up for a career in law enforcement:

  • murder at a nudist colony: Chris and Rita, we need to you to infiltrate the colony. Don’t take clothes, “no” for an answer or anything called ‘Extenze’–just find our (wo)man.
  • murder amongst suburban couples group orgy parties: Chris and Rita, we need you to go undercover as a new couple in the n’hood. Sleep with everyone–all the suspects, the mailman, the mail, the dog–just find our (wo)man
  • murder at a hedonist hotel weekend: Chris and Rita, go undercover as newlyweds, hatef-ck each other in the lobby to draw attention, then fan out, banging everyone possible. I don’t care if they’re checking-in, checking-out or turning down the blankets–just find our (wo)man

The show was great in that formulaic way later emulated by shows like Law&Order. On Silk Stalkings the show started, without fail, either having or preparing to have sex. These scenes all involved scanty lingerie, hot wax on someone’s belly, and a knife. Instead of Law&Order’s “ripped from the headlines!” tag, Silk Stalkings was “ripped from Penthouse letters pages”. The show was ridiculous for its low production budget for extras, scenery and music–I think all their resources were shared with Bedtime Storiesa and whatever movie Shannon Tweed was shooting that lunch hour. But now, with the increased, boundless energy devoted to making every show silk-gp-shot1on TV sex-laced, gone are the coy, winking lines that I loved ‘catching’ on Silk Stalkings; you know, lines like:

  • (Chief): Rita, did you talk to the delivery man believed to be sleeping with Mrs. Obama? (Rita): Yes and I can see why she was; he looks like he knows how to deliver his packages.
  • (Chief): Chris, you’ve been gone all afternoon–I hope you were working on the Liotta case. (Chris): No worries Chief; I met with Jada, the millionaire’s lingerie model daughter. I have a feeling she’s going to keep me abreast of things for awhile.

Awesome. But now let’s look at how those lines would be written in today’s society, where the term/idea ‘sexy’ has been replaced with the more explicit ‘fucksy’:

  • (Chief): Rita, did you talk to the delivery man believed to be sleeping with Mrs. Obama? (Rita): Yes and I can see why she was; he looks like he knows how to f*ck.
  • (Chief): Chris, you’ve been gone all afternoon–I hope you were working on the Liotta case. (Chris): No worries Chief; I met with Jada, the millionaire’s lingerie model daughter. She’s going to keep me abreast, and by that I mean she’s a double-D: Dirty and Down for Whatever. She’s also huge taters. Hell, I think she may have even killed her father herself; she muttered something like ‘I killed him Chris’–but I was busy picturing missionary-style sex with her.

Bye-bye Silk Stalkings; you perhaps single-handedly saved the USA Network, got me through Saturday nights and spurred a wave of candle stores like Illuminations to open–only to be replaced with 80 nightly episodes of Cheaters.

#2: Family Guy:

I spent 1/2 the weekend trying to best sum up my feelings for a show who has 1/2 the wit of The Simpsons and 2x the vulgarity of South Park. The Family Guy is kin to movies like Transformers 1-2, American Idol and Megan Fox’s overly-done-fucksiness: loud, brash, directionless and probably diseased. It’s as one-note as you can get (thin plot, shock joke shock joke violent scene Stewie/Peter off-color joke end of episode).

Family Guy funny? Looks like the joke's on you.

Family Guy funny? Looks like the joke's on you.

Somewhere, some how, Seth McFarlane got a hold of 80’s grade cocaine (last seen in the Alf writer’s room) and slipped it into a Fox Exec meeting….then one at Cartoon Network…and then a bit more to the folks at Fox (who have now consumed enough to green light another spin-off, because, you know, American Dad is hilarious).

And then some into your TV set.

….and now,

The Kids Don’t Get It 15 Greatest Hollywood Tragedies List’s # 1 Tragedy

There were of course, many, many possible candidates for the #1 Tragedy spot–the cancellation of the Arsenio Hall Show, the continued employment of the Wayans family, Ben Stiller’s career, R. Kelly’s life–but really, honestly, there’s only one plausible entry, really. The rest of those are all freak accidents –but this tragedy, our #1 offender, is different because the story’s still being written.

It’s been observed in the past that the state of hip-hop is under attack. I’ll let these lyrics say it for me:

Creatively hip-hop is being destroyed….a lot of rappers really need to be unemployed…..because the topics that them talk about has got me annoyed…..The pile that’s only designed for pop charts that contradicts thought……that’s the reason we brought….it back cause honestly it lacks talent and creativity….***

Icouldn’t agree more, and that’s why, it’s with a heavy heart, but tremendous glee, that I present Our Greatest Hollywood Tragedy:

The Black Eyed Peas

Hip! Funky! Fresh!

Hip! Funky! Fresh!

A group known for such hip-hop damning hits such as Let’s Get Retarded (sorry Jenn), My Humps, Shut-up, and most recently, Boom Boom Pow.

In-between all this they also appeared in a Best Buy commercial, got politically-active through GAP t-shirts and Will.i.am appeared as fallen Jedi Knight in CNN’s first use of hologram technology, a meeting pitch that must’ve gone like this:

“We need to test our new hologram technology, but we have to be careful who we choose as the first person because they’re going to appear thin and rather see-through, so we don’t want to have anyone that we’re going to want on CNN again. Any ideas?” (Wolf Blitzer, Larry King, Anderson Cooper and even f-cking Soledad chime in at once): Will.i.am.

Their latest song, “I Got a Feeling” I assume deals with what happens after someone sleeps with Fergie, with the next single “Piss Piss Burns” uniting with “Boom Boom Pow” and “I Got a Feeling” to complete the trilogy of Songs About Banging Fergie.

The BEPs are our greatest tragedy because Will.i.am.a.sell.out and Co. traded in creativity, identity and talent to create the sort of music that you’ll now hear at places like American Eagle, Fuddrucker’s and bars with the names “Tiki”, “River”, “Hut” or “O’ Shea’s/Milligan’s/Cooper’s” . They went from a vibrant, energetic West Coast hip-hop B-boy hip-hop group to the artists most likely to appear promoting Summer’s Eve with their music.

Imagine if someone said to Will Smith, “hey, slow down–Fresh Prince was great and all Will, but really, acting? I mean Hollywood’s already got Omar Epps, Wesley Snipes and Cuba Gooding Jr.–those guys aren’t going anywhere! Why don’t you just go back to music?”

You know what would’ve happened? The Black Eyed Peas, just a lot sooner, and probably under the name of “Big Momma’s Boyz” or “Jiggytown Heroes” or something else equally Will Smith-ish. And instead of former meth-head turned over-singing media whore Fergie, we’d have Debbie Gibson or Amy Grant in “Jiggytown”. Ugh. This shit hurts my penis just typing this. Constant kick to the crotch.

I see right through you, Will.

I see right through you, Will.

So yes; the BEPs looked around and said, WWWSD (What Would Will Smith Do), complete with Will.i.am’s declaration, “I want to be this generation’s Baja Boys, or, worse yet, hip-pop Dave Matthews Band”. So they changed their sound from B-boy fun to Now That’s What I Call Shit 22! (boom) got Fergie (boom) and proceeded to release My Humps and The Duchess, which brought us the testicle-rending ‘London Bridge’ (pow).

And their story’s still being written.

***from the song, ‘Bringing It Back’ from the Black Eyed Peas album, Bridging the Gap, (2000)

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