I have a post beneath this post you should read because it has at least some substantial thoughts in it. This post, however, is not substantial; it is just "sub," as in sub-par, or below average, at least as far as content. Yes, I'm referring to tonight's episode of
the reality show where five "sub" celebrities joined our men and women in blue to fight crime here in "Little Chicago."
Tonight we saw the usual toothless, denture-less, bra-less criminal elements in precarious situations that might cause you or me to blush: bloody domestic disputes, crack pipes, prostitution, a report on a deceased man discovered in his apartment . . . but the best/worst scene of all might have been the sisters who had a dispute over one's young son who was apparently ill. There was some disagreement, I think, about whether he should go or stay. Discussions about such decisions don't usually escalate to the point of police mediation, unless, of course, you're in south Muncie (which, by the way, is where I'm from.)
When Erik Estrada and his Muncie police partner arrived at the house, the sisters were in their yard screaming at each other in the most peculiar, low-pitched voices we've ever heard. It sounded like they had something caught in their throats, both of them, so it must be a family trait--maybe a syndrome called DTTO, or "Dish Towel Throat Obstruction Syndrome."
The climactic moment was when the elder sister turned to the camera to plead her case saying, "My son has a vaaahruuuuul in-fec-shuuuuuun. Ever tahm he FARTS, he go to DIARRHEA."
Erik Estrada pulled out his best bi-lingual tricks, but you could see he did not speak this strange language, a derivative of ancient Hoosierian. Ernest T. Bass from the Andy Griffith show was like an elocution specialist compared to this lady.
We felt bad to laugh so hard at this moment, but not so bad that we didn't replay it five times and laugh so hard we almost lost control of our bodily funk-shuuuuuns.
Am I mean? My husband says I'm mean to write these things. But these people sign waivers, get paid AND get a T-shirt (WOW!) for appearing on this show. The sisters I wrote about probably re-played this segment more than we did and had a party, too. I probably wouldn't watch this show at all if it weren't in my town.
This is real drama for these mixed up people, and there is another real tragedy involved: the children. So there are definitely un-funny moments in which you feel compassion for lost, addicted people and emotionally scarred children. But between those moments, you can't help noticing La Toya's triangular-shaped nostrils, and you lose it all over again. Maybe after this series ends, I'll stop being sub-human again.