Honey Boo Boo Scratch N Sniff: Ashley is Outraged
Today I am passing the mic to my super-funny friend Ashley Waterson. Ashley and I used to do improv together at Improv Olympic in Los Angeles, and we have been friends ever since, probably because we share a similarly strange sense of humor and appreciation for absurdity. Ashley frequently texts/ emails me weird pictures (like "Chocolate Flavored Chocolate Chip Cookies) that make me laugh, to the point where she now calls herself "Funny Strange production assistant." Last week, though, she tagged me in this photo on Facebook, and we began a discussion so funny, I insisted that she come on as a guest blogger and lay this funny out for you. Here is that photo.
In case you are wondering, I also have some opinions about this "Honey Boo Boo Scratch and Sniff" concept, which I will share with you in a few days.
Take it away, Ashley!
Here Comes Honey Boo Boo: Watch n' Sniff.
Yup. You read that right, and it is exactly what you think it is (unless you think it is watching the show while sniffing glue, which, while preferable to watching sober, is not what it means)
In fact, it means that TLC (stay tuned for my subsequent blog in which I investigate how The Learning Channel has devolved into The Load of Crap network) is going to air two episodes of their hit reality show that incorporate a 4th dimension: smell. The July 15th edition of People magazine will contain insert cards with scratch n' sniff stickers that are numbered to correspond with numbered smells in the season premiere episodes.
In order to examine and dissect the insanity and inanity of this concept, I must first ask the following question: do we really need to explore multi-dimensional television? Don't get me wrong, I love High Definition TV; I'd just as soon watch an Atari game of Pong than watch a sporting event in LowDef. Additionally, like most people in my generation, I thought it was downright awesome when Princess Leia appeared as a hologram out of R2D2's cranium, pleading for Obi Wan's help. However, I am not keen on needing to procure my 3D glasses so that I can watch Mr. Carson give a stuffy, condescending lecture to the staff of Downton Abbey "as if it's right there in my living room!" And now we have smell-o-vision? Even in the best of circumstances and intentions, this is a bad idea. I say this as an avid fan of the Food Network, a channel for which this innovation seems ideal. But honestly, watching Chopped or Cupcake Wars makes me hungry enough without adding the additional allure of smell. Is the intention here to make our country even more obese? But here's the most confounding thing: this brainchild, the "scratch and sniff sticker smell-a-long," isn't even using pleasant and enticing scents. For example, smells include: dead fish, rubber tires, and *cup-a-fart. What I'd like to know is what the network executives were sniffing when they signed off on this idea… On the bright side, at least this explains why your next copy of People magazine will smell like it traveled in an un-air-conditioned airplane bathroom from Hong Kong to LA in the middle of summer.
Now the real question that's nagging me: What's up, America? How is it that we have allowed things to get this far out of hand? And by "things" I mean a culture that not only tolerates but celebrates people like the rotund toddler-in-tiara, Alana "Honey Boo Boo" Thompson and the whole classy Thompson family brood. We, as a society, are like negligent parents who have let our children–in this case, the network executives who produce reality television–run rampant because we refused to set boundaries and instead laughed at and encouraged bad behavior, rather than demand that they be better than that. Yes, I am pointing the finger at you, "weekly watcher of Bridalplasty," and you too, "ironic addict of My Strange Addiction." You have opened the proverbial Pandora's box from which has sprung forth this cherubic child who claims that her "favorite wrestling move is the *'cup-a-fart,' where you fart in your hand and throw it at your enemy's face.'" And now we get to smell it… Yay?
From Paris (Hilton, not France) to Orange County, and the Jersey Shore clear down to the swamps of the Everglades, reality television has made celebrities out of nincompoops across this great nation of ours, and we are all not only dumber for having watched it, but are, in fact, complicit in allowing its creation. (My husband wanted me to be sure to point out that "whenever you point a finger at someone else, you have three pointing back at yourself," meaning that by even writing about this subject, I too, am responsible for perpetuating this sin.) May God have mercy on our souls.