First up:

Welcome to the first ever double column by Sir Stretchimus. In honor of Hoover High, and more specifically, Bama Bangs, I will dub this Stretch’s Two-A-Day. First, I will introduce the Lock Down Hall of Fame, and in the nightcap I will break down the television show I Pity The Fool, which was my original assignment from the Hippo Senior Staff.

Stretch’s Two-A-Day

The Lock Down Hall of Fame

If you are one of the 99.99% of people who never watched Arrested Development, the phrase “Lock that down” won’t mean much to you. Don’t worry—it’s an easy concept to pick up, but first off let’s lay the ground rules: the nominees for the first ever Deadly Hippos Lock Down Hall of Fame can be nominated two ways:

1) Locking that down
2) Failing to lock that down

And in case my English101 professor reads this, we are going to use the terms “lockdown” and “lock down” interchangeably. So there.

Nominee #1: Stretch

Yes, in the twin interests of fair play and full disclosure, I must submit myself for entry into the LDHoF. I’m not happy about this, but I can’t point the hoof at celebrities if I can’t point it in the mirror. My wife is a homecoming queen. I am a giraffe. If you want something to compare it to, read a book about, oh, I don’t know…high school hoops…and awkward social encounters…anyone know a book like that?

Nominee #2: Enos Strate

Left: Enos, making the, well, the same face that I would have made	Right: The one true Daisy. Also: Dadgum!

Enos is one of the godfathers of the failed lockdown. As Hazzard County’s oldest virgin, he spent several years drooling at the feet of the insanely attainable Daisy Duke. Not only was he a man in uniform, he also had the nominal respect of the entire Duke clan, including the venerable Uncle Jesse. It all amounts to one colossal failure on the part of Enos.

Adding to the indignity of his failed lockdown, we have to examine Daisy. Apart from working the occasional shift at the Boar’s Head, Daisy had no other recognizable responsibilities or activities. Apparently she just sat around painting her toenails and waiting for the Lost Sheep to call through on the radio. (Author’s note: we know she didn’t spend that time working on her southern accent, which came out sounding like Rachel Dratch yodeling)

And by the way, here’s my unsolicited opinion on the Dukes of Hazzard franchise: did they actually SET OUT to infuriate the die-hard Dukes fans that still watch the episodes? From the moment I heard the words “starring Jessica Simpson as…” I began cursing incessantly. Incredibly, this appears to be a viable franchise for the studios. They’re making (and mangling) more Hazzard movies as we speak. With any luck, Dukes of Hazzard 8 will be rushing straight to video about the time my first child is entering the world. Here’s my question: why can’t John Schneider and Tommy Wopat star in one of these suckers? I would pay for a twenty dollar ticket to see a haggard-looking Bo Duke do his trademark “well, I’m just going to take my shirt off before this big fight scene” routine on the big screen.

Nominee #3: Joseph Reitman

Left: (biting tongue)	Right: (biting tongue even harder)

Ah yes. The puzzling case of Joseph Reitman. This chap somehow scored a marriage to Shannon Elizabeth. Now the fact that he married anyone is an amazing feat. I don’t mean that in an insulting way—not at all. It’s just that I didn’t know anyone married anyone in Hollywood anymore. Didn’t they actually outlaw marriage in California? Don’t you just go from casual friends directly to attending the drug-fueled orgies and Democratic fundraisers together?

I digress. Joe Reitman pulled off one of the more amazing lockdowns of recent history with his score of Elizabeth. It was too good to be true. No, really. Elizabeth recently decided to date other wallets, and the couple has since divorced.

This begs the obvious question: Does Reitman make the Lockdown Hall as a success, or does he make it in on the grounds of failing to MAINTAIN said lockdown? I say a little of both. To paraphrase what they said about Joe Montana and his induction into that other hall of fame, “If Joe Reitman doesn’t make it into the LDHoF, we need to tear it down.”

Nominee #4: Tommy Lee

Left: Looking relatively well preserved, for a Motley Crue member	Right: Artist’s rendition of Pamela Anderson, 2010

I have always had a soft spot for Tommy Lee, and I don’t know why. Say what you will about his musical career, but the guy has charisma. He possesses one of those unnaturally upbeat personalities, the kind where he is aglow with the absolute certainty that people will always love him. He’s kind of like a coked out puppy. Or something like that.

Now I almost didn’t grant Tommy his nomination, on the grounds that he is relatively famous and good looking, and Pamela Anderson isn’t that far out of his league. Seriously. I refuse to rank her as a Daisy Duke-level superbabe because I don’t trust women who try to distract you with gimmicks (in this case being the watermelons she had implanted in her chest cavity). Plus, and no one else seems to recognize this, she is slowly going wacky in one of those Sharon Stone type regressions. She’s about two years away from showing up on the news with a headline that contains the terms “P.E.T.A.”, “medical lab”, and “firebomb”.

Nonetheless, Tommy Lee gets his nomination, and this is why: After botching his chance to be Mr. Pamela Anderson, he falls into the waiting arms of…get ready for it…here it comes….

PINK! Yes. Pink. I don’t have anything bad to say about her or her music, except that I would rather not be in an elevator with either. Going from Pamela to Pink is the rough equivalent of trading in your broken down Dodge Omni and getting a sheet of notebook paper in return.

Okay okay okay. Here we go. Sitting down to watch my first episode of Pity the Fool. I am not happy right now—this is going to knock out South Park. The only reason I am doing this is that I can watch the South Park episode online tomorrow. Even so, this better be good. Also, my wife wants to watch Mr. T. Acquiescing in this manner sounds like a violation of Maniquette, but keep in mind I am eating Bald Eagle filets with my bare hands while I type this out.

I Pity The Fool

http://www.tvland.com/originals/ipitythefool/

First impressions: So do they feed Mr. T his cocaine sandwiches before the show, or is that the dangling carrot that gets him through the taping?

Wow. This show appears to be slightly less contrived than The Contender.

Tonight’s episode: UNITY. Sounds promising enough.

Okay, quick breakdown of the episode: family of four chubby people confront their comatose father. The wife wants him to ballroom dance with her, the daughter wants him to be active in her life, and the father himself just wants to relax in his chair. Of particular note is the son, who appears to be 35 yet does not know how to drive. How old is he? Is he ambiguously gay? He seems to be very good at emoting and quivering.

Mr. T, family therapist. “The biggest room in this house is the room for improvement!”

Mr. T: “3+1=Nuthin’!” (Author’s note: more on T’s math later)

When Mr. T laughs, it sounds like someone is ripping a live chicken apart from beak to tail feathers.

Episode progress: the first ten minutes have centered around Mr. T’s manic attempts to pry the dad out of his trusty chair. I’m ready for Hannibal or Face to make a cameo.

Okay, I can’t keep up. I could literally quote the entire episode and it would be exciting. The dad takes his daughter to an arcade, prompting a flurry of T zingers as he narrates: “Some call it air hockey…I call it love hockey!” “They weren’t just whacking alligators, they were whackin’ down the walls that stood between them!” Oh boy.

During the commercial, my wife informs me “Mr. T sounds like you when you talk…and kind of like Mitch Hedberg, too.”

Success! The husband decides to ballroom dance with his doting wife! This family really is saved! Time for a stunning finale at an abandoned baseball field, where the husband decides to burn his chair as a symbol of his newfound dedication. Too bad the family recites their lines with [this just in—Mr. T dropped the word “thusly”] the skills of Keanu Reeves in Point Break.

What the heck?!?! Double episode? No one told me this! Ah, screw it. I can sleep in tomorrow.

New fools, same red jumpsuit. Good to go.

Mr. T loves to mash up fools into mashed potatoes. Or something like that. It’s hard to follow him, on account of the cocaine sandwiches and everything.

Tonight’s episode: MOTIVATION. We can only hope the jibba jabba quotient will be as high as last episode.

Episode breakdown: Mr. T strolls into a used car dealership to deal out some “fuel injected motivation!” I have to be honest with you, I don’t understand why he’s there. Apparently the car dealership is full of people who don’t respect each other? Okay, now I see. Evidently the owner is some sort of hybrid of Donald Trump and Al Davis. Naturally, the owner’s son-in-law works at the dealership and gets the brunt of the jibba jabba.

I am breathing heavier during the commercials than Stephen Jackson during Police Appreciation Night at Conseco Fieldhouse. This entails more frantic typing than I realized. No wonder the giraffe got assigned this column.

Now Mr. T is in a business suit, working as a car salesman. He begins to cold call people to try to make sales. No one believes that it really is Mr. T on the phone. This is actually funny, and evidently the only part of the show that is not staged.

Mr. T crawls into the trunk of a car to show a prospective client how much space it has. Now they are back with the business manager trying to hammer out a price. This is perfect. As the terrified customers watch silently, Mr. T screams at the business manager to lower the price of the car by two thousand dollars. When the manager refuses, T screams “Well give me 35 dollars off then! You can do that! 35 is chump change! Chump change!”

As great is this is, it could be better with Hannibal spraying the room with an AK-47 and hitting nothing at all, while Face romanced the female employees of the dealership. And that’s not even including Murdock.

CLEAVAGE!

I like a show where the host berates you coming out of a commercial break. “If you just joined us, SHOW ME SOME RESPECT! WATCH MY SHOW FROM THE BEGINNING!”

Apparently, 8 out of 20 is the same as one third. SHAW, please comment. Is this a new development?

Now T sits down with the timid son-in-law and the Trump/Davis owner and has a heart to heart. Surprisingly believable. I see real tears. Then, T hits us with “If you really want to see the relationship glisten, all you really have to do is listen!”

So, was this show written by Don King, or was it some sort of beyond the grave contribution by Johnnie Cochran?

Final scene: T raps. I couldn’t catch it all, but here was his final verse. This seems like a good way to wrap up the Two-A-Day. Good night.

T took care of bid’ness, and others did their parts,

Not just selling cars, but also touching hearts.

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