The sad modernization of Family Feud

Steve Harvey is a pretty funny guy.  I haven’t heard much of his actual standup, but from what I have heard, he’s pretty good.  Good enough to where he’s a pretty familiar name to most people these days.  But quite frankly, not even he can really save what has become of the once popular game show, Family Feud.

I used to love Family Feud, back in the day it was hosted by Richard Dawson.  My parents speak very little English, but even they enjoyed watching Family Feud.  I have a lot of fond memories actually watching Family Feud together with my parents and sister, like a real, stereotypical family.  The questions were basic and general, and just about anyone watching at home could have a fighting chance if they were remotely third-grade educated, or had been simply living for a while.

When I have lunchtime workouts, I’m running on the treadmill at right around the time when today’s Steve Harvey Family Feud reruns are running on what used to be TBS.  I used to watch ESPN, but for a channel that’s supposed to cover all sports, they can’t seem to not stop talking about NFL, NCAA football, golf, or NBA.  It’s almost as if they’re resentful that MLB has their own network, just like the NFL and NBA has, and does whatever they can to Rosa Parks the shit out of baseball coverage.  Needless to say, Steve Harvey Family Feud episodes are a lesser evil, and I’ve been watching them for a few weeks now, prompting me to finally post something about how much it sucks and how wrong it is these days.

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Another good Volkswagen commercial

Despite the fact that I probably wouldn’t aspire to get any of today’s VWs due to the fact that they’re all kind of pricey and honestly, I don’t like the direction of their styling, I have to admit that I really do oftentimes like their marketing.

I find this commercial enjoyable. Obvious mom driving around in a slammed Honda Civic Del Sol, complete with trunk system, fart cannon and under glow, and then coming home seconds before her daughter and her loser boyfriend, where they switch keys.

he message is an obvious one that Volkswagens are safe as opposed to a tricked-out rice rocket, but that’s not necessarily why I like the commercial. I guess as I’ve gotten older and leaving behind the days of when I did like a little rice on my cars in favor of more sensible and practical options. Regardless, the visuals of a mom in a rice rocket is amusing. And she’s a total MILF too.

Why I don’t watch previews anymore

In short, frankly, I don’t want to have anything spoiled for me anymore.  In short, it appears that nobody knows how to put together a preview for anything anymore, without giving something crucial away.

Case in point, prior to watching the season 2.5 premiere of The Walking Dead, there was a brief preview montage of what to expect in the next 6-7 episodes.  In this montage of visuals, there was a clip of a gold sedan getting flipped over – this is obviously big, considering the pool of characters in which are capable of driving a motor vehicle is pretty limited to the core cast, meaning someone’s going to be getting seriously hurt.  Obviously, it’s absurd to think that nobody’s going to get hurt in a show about annihilation and survival, but knowing in advance that someone is going to get into a car wreck is something I’d rather not be told ahead of time.

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The best cough and cold remedy might be an ass-whoopin

Whenever I see the product name “Delsym,” my first thought is naturally how much it sounds like “Dhalsim.” And then I proceed to imagine that when she reaches into the cabinet, she picks up a miniature Dhalsim. And when she points the Dhalsim at the coughing guy, the outstretched arms of a perfectly timed fierce punch reach out and punch the guy every time he coughs. Within minutes, and far faster than the time it takes for a liqui-gel to kick in, the man is bruised, slightly bloodied, crying, but he is no longer coughing. And then the kid shows up on the stairs, coughing, and the wife immediately points the Dhalsim at him, and the clip is cut right before the moment of impact of Dhalsim’s fierce fists plasters the little shit.

The wife is happily contented, and enjoying her movie, with her husband and son as bloody pulps, but no longer coughing. Thanks Dhalsim!