True Genius

One bright beautiful sunny day, a group of comedy writers were sitting around in a break room. All of them longed to step out into the sun and tan for once in their lives, but they had reached an impasse; all eight of them had simultaneously succumbed to the talons of writer's block, and in this case, the block was made of steel and they were only equipped to chisel away at the cumbersome cube with coloured toothpicks and those tiny plastic swords that bartenders stick in their cocktails as a novelty to amuse the drunkards. Unfortunately, all of them refused to admit their muses had all committed hara kiri, because dammit, they wrote the 1st season of "Gays Men Go To A Farm And Are Terribly Confused and Out-Of-Place". The series was such a hit that it received blind praise from many talented ass-kissers, and was placed in a lovely prime-time viewing slot that competed with Extreme Makeover: Historical Landmark Edition, an iconoclastic demolition and reconstruction program where all of our most memorable and recognizable historical structures are destroyed and replaced, all for TV ratings.

After such success against a competitor that defiled our architectural heritage for shits and giggles, how can one admit "Gee, I don't know what's funny."? Exactly. Therefore, procrastination reigned, and they mostly chattered about their exaggerated sexual escapades and joked about people of other races. "Asians are such bad drivers." one of them would quip, and the others would giggle like a Japanese schoolgirl looking at a penis for the first time. In between bouts of recreational marijuana usage and flashing their testicles at each other during coffee breaks, the sheer boredom that resonated through the air like smog in New Jersey would cause the weaker ones to allow their minds to drift off and would have a random thought, which they were trained in Comedy Writer Boot Camp to write down, or else run the gauntlet, and the gauntlet involved porcupines.

These random thoughts were about as funny and random as a glass of root beer sitting on a counter, just going flat and getting warm. Nobody just looks at the root beer and goes "Boy Howdy, that's a hoot!" because it's not a hoot at all. Think about the root beer for a minute. Is it making you laugh? Is it?! But the writers heard each other's putridly horrible ideas for the show and performed intellectual fellatio on each other like they were getting paid for it. Oh wait a second. They are getting paid for it, which technically makes them prostitutes, but metaphorical prostitutes at best. Anyhow, one of them suggested "What if we make Karen talk to a chicken about her relationship problems?" and the other writers' jaws just dropped. "That's fucking genius, Mel... motherfucking genius."

Mel just grins and says "No no, you are."

"Hey, when Ryan and Harry go to the straight bar, let's do a bit where they discuss holes in underwear for like 5 minutes straight!"

"That's gold!"

"Just think: Ryan says 'Damn, there's a hole in my underwear.' and Harry goes 'I hate that." and then Ryan says 'I think holes in underwear should be against the law!' and Harry goes 'We should hold a rally!' and Ryan says 'Hold on, I'm going to Twitter this.' because Twitter is all the rage, and putting it in the show will make us not only hilarious azzzzzzzzzzzzzzz fuck, but also, hip."

"Stop. My head is going to explode. My dick head."

"Then when Glenn finds his father, he finds out he's Irish."

"And he could like, do a bunch of stereotypical Irish things!"

"Season 4 is going to kick ASS."

Et Cetera.

After smashing open a piñata full of pathetic half-assed jokes and convincing each other that it's FUCKING GENIUS, the 4th Season of Gays Men Go To A Farm And Are Terribly Confused and Out-Of-Place airs and it's terrible, and I decide to talk to a friend about it. "That show is really bad." I mention. They take offense, like I just told them their religion was false, or favorite political party was anything less than saint-like with integrity, or worse yet, I told them that their favored genre of music is what Satan's imps use to torture the souls of the damned in Hell. "You have to get the inside jokes." they retort, and add "You have to be a fan of Mel and Tim's early work to get most of these, too."

"I don't want to watch Mel and Tim's early work."

"Why are you being an asshole?"

"I'm trying to understand why people like this show. The humor is really lame."

"That's the joke though. It's supposed to be like that so you laugh at how lame the humor is."

"That sounds like an excuse to slack on the creativity and deliberately air an epic sardonic drought that purposefully sabotages itself in order to make a lot of money for basically throwing something together that a 4th-grader could scribble out in 15 minutes while waiting for his bagel bites to heat up in the toaster oven."

"Yeah... well... screw you! And bagel bites don't take that long to make."

fin