May I have this lance?
If you thought primetime TV couldn't get any worse, this summer's schedule of last-ditch-effort reality shows might be what brings you to an early grave. Tonight, ABC premieres Dancing with the Stars, where couples composed of one D-list "celeb" compete in ballroom-dancing competitions. From the commercials, the show looks more excruciating than Fear Factor, According to Jim, and Yes, Dear combined. We could only wish "star" Joey McIntyre grew a beer belly that hung to his knees, married a hot babe with a perpetual vacant gaze, and together they chomped on engorged cow testicles to prove their undying commitment to one another.
Tomorrow night, NBC premieres Hit Me Baby One More Time,
Loverboy, a Flock of Seagulls, Cameo, Vanilla Ice, and others compete
for a second chance at flash-in-the-pan status. Even with an egomaniac
like The Ice Man on board, this show doesn't even fuel our own sick
schadenfreude. (Though it might be more
interesting if they added another angle to the competition, like maybe
Bloated Face" category.) But let's be kind. They're competing for "charity."
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