Nanny Nonsense 911
There is another reality television show that I have learned to despise (well, actually it came pretty naturally – I didn’t have to force it up at all) – ‘Nanny 911’. What a ridiculous piece of network horseshit this is.
I hate just about everything about this program; but then again, watching Walt Disney’s ‘Mary Poppins’ is prone to induce violent episodes in my subconscious causing me to go all 9/11 like a disgruntled Irish MP with a two pack a day smoking habit.
The entire premise of this asinine television show is to find some runaway train wreck of a family and then dispatch some snotty English crumpet in a red frock from ‘Nanny Central’ to point out all their shortcomings and inadequacies as a family before millions of television viewers, cure all their problems, and generally make the world a better fucking place one suck hole trailer park family at a time.
How demeaning would that be to have some foreign broad with bad teeth who reeks of tea to come into your home and criticize all your parenting skills? The only 911 necessary for this house call would be the one to the Emergency Medical Services should any English prig decide to get too ‘Dr. Phil’ uppity with me, because I’ll beat her senseless with her own umbrella before opening it up her ass for good measure.
If she’s such a fucking expert with kids, how come she’s not a parent herself and off raising her own litter of stuffy Von Trapp children, instead of commenting on everyone else’s? Besides, who decided that the English were the leading authority of childrearing and parenting anyways? Didn't they use to shove little children up chimneys at one point in time?
The last episode of this reality tripe I witnessed involved sending 'Nanny Deb' to a household of 13 screaming little booger monsters and attempt to restore something resembling order and sanity to the household by making stricter recommendations in order to change the current state of chaos existing within the home already.
THIRTEEN-fucking-children? Shit, the first fucking recommendation I’d make in a situation like that would be to lop off daddy’s babymaker to prevent him from manufacturing any more screaming little booger monsters. It’s friggin' elementary! I’d just kick in the front door, walk into the family room with a pair of gardening shears and head straight for Pop’s jewels.
Problem fucking solved - literally!
“Alright, gov’na. Now lets see about that tallywacker then, shall we?”
I mean, shut off the source of the problem right at the leak, dig?
I hate just about everything about this program; but then again, watching Walt Disney’s ‘Mary Poppins’ is prone to induce violent episodes in my subconscious causing me to go all 9/11 like a disgruntled Irish MP with a two pack a day smoking habit.
The entire premise of this asinine television show is to find some runaway train wreck of a family and then dispatch some snotty English crumpet in a red frock from ‘Nanny Central’ to point out all their shortcomings and inadequacies as a family before millions of television viewers, cure all their problems, and generally make the world a better fucking place one suck hole trailer park family at a time.
How demeaning would that be to have some foreign broad with bad teeth who reeks of tea to come into your home and criticize all your parenting skills? The only 911 necessary for this house call would be the one to the Emergency Medical Services should any English prig decide to get too ‘Dr. Phil’ uppity with me, because I’ll beat her senseless with her own umbrella before opening it up her ass for good measure.
If she’s such a fucking expert with kids, how come she’s not a parent herself and off raising her own litter of stuffy Von Trapp children, instead of commenting on everyone else’s? Besides, who decided that the English were the leading authority of childrearing and parenting anyways? Didn't they use to shove little children up chimneys at one point in time?
The last episode of this reality tripe I witnessed involved sending 'Nanny Deb' to a household of 13 screaming little booger monsters and attempt to restore something resembling order and sanity to the household by making stricter recommendations in order to change the current state of chaos existing within the home already.
THIRTEEN-fucking-children? Shit, the first fucking recommendation I’d make in a situation like that would be to lop off daddy’s babymaker to prevent him from manufacturing any more screaming little booger monsters. It’s friggin' elementary! I’d just kick in the front door, walk into the family room with a pair of gardening shears and head straight for Pop’s jewels.
Problem fucking solved - literally!
“Alright, gov’na. Now lets see about that tallywacker then, shall we?”
I mean, shut off the source of the problem right at the leak, dig?
posted by crazytigerrabbitman at
5:47 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home