Oh, Atlanta #614

ANF: Atlanta-based Sumo Championship League (SCL) to begin debuting in October

So let’s see: Atlanta has an MLB team, NBA team, NFL team, and even an MLS team.  Scattered throughout the rest of Georgia are all four levels of minor league baseball affiliates of the Braves.  USA Soccer has chosen Fayetteville, Georgia as their headquarters.  There’s an affiliated minor league hockey team in Duluth, which is as close as Georgia is going to get to the NHL after two previously failed NHL squads that have left for Canada.  The University of Georgia and Georgia Tech athletics are both reputable athletic programs in most major sports, and even Georgia State, Kennesaw State and Georgia Southern are D-I programs.

Needless to say, there’s no shortage of athletic competition to imbibe in at any point of the year for anyone who wants to watch competitive sport.  So perhaps it might not be a bad idea to start considering using dollars in the state of Georgia for maybe anything that isn’t related to athletics, no?

What’s that you say?  What about sumo wrestling?  Georgia doesn’t have sumo wrestling?  I mean, why wouldn’t Georgia, United States have an association of a sport native to the country of Japan in it?  But what’s that?  It’s going to have sumo wrestling debuting in Georgia?  In October?  What say whaaatt??

And here we are.  Some new Sumo Championship League is about to embark, and it was founded by a dude who used to be a bigwig at WCW Turner Broadcasting, so it has some sturdy Atlanta ties, and leads to believe that the SCL could be considered Atlanta-based.

Because there appears to be a belief that there is a thirst for some real life sumo wrestling in North America.

Don’t get me wrong, I respect the sport, and the athletes that make up of it.  I don’t see a bunch of fat guys crashing into each other (like in futbol americano), I see athletes who just happen to have large mass, who play a human game of chess of trying to knock down their opponents or maneuver them out of a ring.  It takes intelligence, adaptability and actual skill in order to achieve victory, and I have seen some live sumo wrestling in my life.

It’s just that it just seems like a complete, nobody-asked-for-this kind of endeavor, where the league is supposedly valued at $25M, which means it has received about as much of that in funding, and it begs me to ask the question on how many other things in this world could $25M have better gone towards other than starting up a sumo league?

I digress though.  If the SCL starts running shows in Atlanta, preferably up where I could take my dad to some live events, it seems like something that would be interesting to check out, if the price is right.  Now if they start charging $65+ up for a completely unproven commodity from the onset, they’ve got to be diluting themselves, but if they play a smart game and offer up cheap, affordable entertainment until some worth is established, maybe I’ll go check out some actual sumo wrestling.  I’m always looking for interesting things to take my dad to go see, and perhaps we can both derive some entertainment out of welcoming some live sumo wrestling to the Metro, after all.

I suppose when you’re about to be euthanized, no-caffeine may let you live three more seconds

ANF: Georgia death-row inmate selects last meal, set for execution on September 16th
Let’s just cut to the chase:

For his last meal, prison officials said Humphreys requested barbecue beef brisket, pork ribs, a bacon double cheeseburger with fries, buffalo wings, a meat lovers pan pizza and two caffeine-free sodas. For dessert, he chose butter pecan ice cream and peach ice cream.

Honestly, take the whole murdering of two real estate agents out of the equation and journey to death row, and this sounds like an absolute banger of a big back meal, that would be like a final boss-caliber cheat day of eating.

The funny thing to me about final meal requests is that these inmates always ask for enough food for entire families, more than likely knowing that they have no chance at finishing everything, and the crazier thing is that the institutions of incarceration always seem to honor them.

As far as final meals go, this one does seem kind of tame.  Man is basically asking for the entire menu at like Buffalo Wild Wings, with all the barbecue items he’s requesting, as well as cheeseburgers and pizza.  About a decade ago, also here in Georgia, there was a woman on death row who requested a ton of things that seemed to have a common thread, of buttermilk and eggs, and it seemed to me that she was planning on making herself into a human atomic bomb of toxic gas, fully anticipating that once she died, and believing that the body’s functions cease and evacuate, to make the absolutely most trainwreck of a mess as possible on the way out.

This guy isn’t really going that route, even if it is the only real chance that any accused has to get the last word in with their jailers, man just wants a solid Roy Hobbs Day on the way out.

But why this is a post on the brog is that the devil is in the details, and it’s some of the details that pique my interest and inspire me to put down some words.

First, is the fact that he specifically asked for a meat lovers pan pizza, and not a whole-ass Pizza Hut Big New Yorker with every single meat option slathered on it.  I get that there is a culinary difference between the two, what with the pan pizza having those crispy edges that might be a personal preference, but if I’m on my way out, feel any sort of malice or resentment to my jailers or the state of Georgia, and know that the taxpayers are on the hook for feeding my ass one last time, I might pick the more expensive option, knowing that I probably won’t finish it anyway, taking any sort of pyrrhic victories as I can.

Instead, this dude is being quite modest with his request of a diminutive pan pizza, almost as if it were meant to be a dainty side dish to accompany his barbecue train he’s going to run.

Next we have the two caffeine-free sodas that he’s requested; I’m going to assume they’re along the lines of a cola or of the dark colored variety, and not like a Crush or Mountain Dew.  It’s funny in the sense that he specifically asked for two, and not an entire six or 12-pack, because short of going to a gas station or a Dollar Tree, I don’t even know where you can even get individual cans of soda.  More than likely, whomever is in charge of fulfilling this meal request will be stuck with leftover sodas in their possession, knowing that the missing cans were meant for a dead guy.

But the coup de grace is the fact that for whatever reason, it was specified that he wanted caffeine-free sodas.  Man is about to be put to eternal sleep, and he’s sweating having sodas that have caffeine in it before he’s put to death.  And just two – clearly trying to watch his weight and sodium intake, in spite of the 8,000mg of sodium he’ll already be taking in with his requested final meal.

When I was a kid, I was so hooked on soda, and in spite of my mom’s general aversion to supporting such a habit, occasionally I could talk her into picking up a case of sodas, provided it were caffeine-free Diet Coke.  It’s like being the absolute least offensive of the cola family made it somewhat palatable for my mom to purchase.  Plus, the gold cans are kind of baller, and it’s almost a shame that the color gold is treated as like fourth tier in the Coca-Cola hierarchy.

I suppose he’s being cognizant of the risk of elevated heart rate that caffeine has on the human body, and seeing as how he’s going to be put down via lethal injection, I suppose keeping his heart rate as low as possible when getting the needle, he might be able to prolong his life by like maybe, three more seconds. 

And if he has any inkling of wanting to remain among the living, I suppose every second counts.

The 6,000 lb. letdown

It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of My 600 Lb. Life, and I was extremely disappointed when the show seemingly came to a slow, uneventful finish after the conclusion of season 13.  Periodically I would Google the show to find out when there was going to be another season, which turned into if there was going to be another season, and all I’d ever find are vague speculations of legal troubles between the production company and TLC and other fans speculating that perhaps Dr. Now was perhaps calling it quits considering he’s 80 years old and should rightfully probably be enjoying retirement without the stress of holding human lives in his fingertips on a regular basis.

Eventually, my curiosity petered off, lost to the passage of time and finding other things to think about.  Recently however, mythical wife brought to my attention that Dr. Now was back on television, albeit no longer called My 600 lb. Life and no longer on TLC.  Rechristened The 6,000 lb. Diaries with Dr. Now, on Lifetime/A&E, I came to discover that this show had been on since fucking 2025 and I’m asking myself how in the world did this not hit my radar, we’re over halfway through 2026 and I had no clue that this show even existed. 

I know that I’m a busy parent, endlessly struggling to keep his head above water and often times miss out on all sorts of crap, but shit goddamn, you’d think one of the numerous algorithms, AI or other big brother-ey crap out there in the world would have brought to my attention the return of Dr. Now to television and made me aware of this last year.

Either way, despite the fact that I have an endless list of television and movies that I want to watch, I shot 6,000 lb. Diaries to the front of the line because I had to see what the fuck Dr. Now was up to now, after all this time.

First, I love the notion that because of the title of the show, people at A&E/Lifetime/TLC/whoever else is under that giant fucking Disney umbrella had to look for the right ten people to have in the first season, so that they could maintain their claim that the total weight of all subjects combined to be at or over 6,000 lbs.  Like there probably had to have been some 590 lb. cruiserweights who were on the show’s shortlist of people to be featured on the show, but their diminutive statures risked the entire show’s aggregate weight down to like 5,967 lbs., so they got passed over for Caleb who weighed in at 804 lbs. and guaranteed that the show could definitely be called 6,000 lb. Diaries.

Anyway, mythical wife and I dove right in, with high hopes and anticipation for some more juicy trainwreck television, and some classic Dr. Now snipes and savage heat.  I was so excited about the season that I didn’t even bother to wait until finishing the entire season to post about it, because as much as I’d love to binge watch anything anymore, with barely two hours of free time a day, shit just ain’t happening.

So five episodes in, and I’m disappointed to have to say that unfortunately I’m not impressed.  Like, at all.  There are a lot of changes to the show’s general format, some decent, some not quite so, but the high-level biggest change of the show really is the noticeable reduction of, the man himself, Dr. Nowzaradan (Bariatric Surgeon).  And when Dr. Now is on screen, it’s almost as if he or someone else has told him(self) to cool it and tone it down with the zingers and the heat, and viewers are not getting any savage snipes or cold remarks that made him such a legend during My 600.

Additionally, and I’m not saying that I deliberately want to see everyone fail, but every single subject of The 6,000 has been successful, at meeting their initial weight loss goals, getting approved for surgery, and getting said surgery, before dropping some more weight post-op, before the episodes end.  It’s not that I’m against them finding success, it’s just that every single subject I’ve seen so far are all genuinely decent-to-likeable people who aren’t trainwrecks, aren’t behavioral problems aside from their overeating, and frankly just aren’t the quality of trash television that made My 600 such riveting television.

I know that says more about my person than anything else, but I’d wager that I’m not the only one feeling this upon watching The 6,000 after being long fans of My 600.  Mythical wife said to me that the show has become too wholesome when I’m wanting trainwreck, and that’s why I’m struggling to get into The 6,000 so much.

Just about everything has changed going from 600 to 6,000.  No longer does the show start with the crushingly sad music, where the subjects trudge out of bed, take a shower before eating an entire family’s worth of breakfast by themselves, go see the ‘doctor in houston’ where Dr. Now gives them the plan, they say they can do it, fail to meet the first weight loss test, get sad or mad, Dr. Now rips into them, they fail again, Dr. Now rips into them again but orders them to get therapy and move to Houston, they move to Houston or not, and the show usually runs out of time before they can get surgery and we never know what happens to them because most people probably aren’t so diehard they’ll wait for the Where Are They Now sequels to every subject.

6,000 has done away with almost all of that, all the way down to the music and title cards, which are now more positive, sky blue and uplifting.  The subjects are bubblier, and are all equipped with personal cams to record “diaries” which make up a chunk of the show’s viewable content, probably saving A&E a lot of money with fewer camera personnel to have to follow.  Gone is a lot of filler footage, mostly of their struggles, like inability to move, complaining while traveling, pigging out on fast food in the parking lots of adjacent Walmarts and general bickering with their enablers. 

The episodes are anywhere from 39-55 minutes, which kind of shows just how bloated My 600 episodes must have gotten with all that filler trash footage.  And as I’ve often said, I’ve grown to appreciate shorter episodes as I’ve gotten older and value my time more, but at the same time, I’m missing the trainwreck drama of the old format, even if it meant only watching one 88-98 minute episode a night.

I feel like holistically everything changed, probably because the old format of My 600 was probably sucking the souls out of everyone, from the viewers to Dr. Now himself.  It’s like they’re trying to course-correct 13 gradually degrading seasons of My 600 with a faster-paced, more uplifting format, focusing more on the victories and not so much the struggles, and with way less Dr. Now on screen, seeing as how the man is 81, and has probably spent the better part of the last 13 seasons getting beat down by all the failure stories and all the asshole subjects that TLC was probably deliberately hand-picking to get the spiciest television out of their interactions with an exasperated and burnt-out Dr. Now. 

At the root of it, Dr. Now is still a very real and very legitimate doctor, and it’s probably providing a lot of chicken soup for his personal and professional soul to have his wins and success stories being shown nationally, instead of all his fuck-ups and failures being the only ones that make it onto television, even if the Assanti Brothers and other trainwrecks were some of the most memorable episodes of the My 600 library.

It seems evident by his on-screen interactions with the subjects of The 6,000; five episodes in, and I haven’t heard a single biting zinger or cutting remark to anyone who’s sitting in Not-Room 5 which is another noticeable format change, having them all sit in a completely different room than where every episode of My 600 was filmed in.  He still calls out shortcomings of missing a goal by 6-10 lbs., and is quick to identify who the enablers are, but he’s also seemingly calmer, and even apt to show some personality or humor.

I get it.  But I miss the savage Dr. Now, even if it was probably to the benefit of nobody actually in the room.

Change is inevitable, and when the day is over, change in the direction of wanting to be more positive is not a bad thing, even if it means less entertainment for callous cold hearts like me.  However, in the world of television and the game of ratings, I’m going to go out on a limb and make the assumption that The 6,000 lb. Diaries won’t have nearly the success that My 600 lb. Life did, and I don’t really know if I’m going to be in any rush to complete the season of the new show.  Disheartening, but that’s the reality of television sometimes.  As Eric Bischoff once said, controversy creates cash.

Fat chance airfares are coming down

CBS: Airline industry projecting to save millions of dollars on jet fuel in 2026 on account of the massive amounts of collective weight loss throughout the planet due to GLP-1 drugs

It really is incredible.  GLP-1s have become so prevalent and so effective on such a massive scale, that it’s impacting an industry that requires some really creative routing in order to make a relation.  The correlation between weight loss drugs and the airline industry seems like quite the reach, but at the scale of the collective weight loss of the world, it actually makes perfect sense that the airline industry is set to start saving tons of money on jet fuel, if more passengers are weighing less than ever before.

The thing is, the first thought that came into my head upon hearing about this news was, will the airlines pass any modicum of these savings onto passengers?  Of course, that was a rhetorical question, because anyone with a pulse already knows the answer is, absofuckinglutely not.

It’s just like every single price hike in history in any business; companies get used to seeing the increased revenue, and it doesn’t matter at all if the reason(s) used to justify a price hike(s) are rendered invalid, there’s not a company in history that is willing to roll back a price hike, and the airline industry is one of the most flagrant at conducting such business.

Like when they used the fuel crisis of 2008 to jack up their fares, those fares didn’t come back down once crude stabilized.  When they basically colluded to eliminate free bags across the board, nobody was willing to be the disruptor and go back to free bags in order to undercut their competition, they had gotten far too comfortable with the bag fees adding to their bottom lines to risk lowering anything.

This is no exception; a plethora of reasons, including rising weights were blabbed in order to justify their fare hikes, and it won’t matter at all if the world has collectively dropped 5% of their weight, there’s a 0% chance that any airline is going to discount even a single fucking nickel from their fares.

If anything at all, they could feasibly go the other direction and start jacking fares up again, citing airplanes becoming too aerodynamic, and that they’re getting to their destinations faster, causing more crowding at airports, more idling, which of course, means the need for more jet fuel, or some other randomly convoluted justification to spin up more fare hikes.

Originally while I was thinking about this post, I was going to opine where all this collective weight loss is going, because the food that caused it still exists, and at what grandiose level does the Earth ultimately collapse upon itself from the collective increasing weight of, existence?

But once the wheels of piss and vitriol towards the airline industry get churning, it’s like an avalanche of shit-tily nihilistic opinions about a bunch of greedy old white fucks, and how much I think the general concept of investing is what is causing the world so much collective despair across the board.

I get that it’s a cool thing to hear that people are the world are losing so much weight thanks to GLP-1s, that the airline industry are slated to save nearly $550M in jet fuel this year, but when you stop to ponder what happens next and realize that consumers and travelers don’t stand to benefit from their magical savings, it just gets me all fired up and once again mad at the greedy ass business in the end.

Does this mean I’m fatphobic?

Over the weekend, I went to a wrestling show with some friends.  Not just any show, but a WWE show – NXT’s Great American Bash to be specific.  It was the first of three shows the E was running in Atlanta over the weekend, and although I was interested in either of the other two shows, GAB won out because:

  • NXT is the most fun brand in the company
  • I could only really afford tickets to one show
  • It was held at Center Stage, which is basically my all-time favorite place to watch wrestling; I would watch a show put on by Somali pirates if it were held at Center Stage

All shade about the WWE, their parent company TKO and their predatory decimation of the fan experience aside, I was looking forward to this show a lot, because I’ve always had good experiences with NXT, I always love watching wrestling at Center Stage, and it was a small reprieve from parenting for an afternoon with some friends.

The show itself was decent; a little below my expectations as far as NXT goes, not to mention this was technically a PLE, which meant that I would’ve expected a little bit more.  But considering how much B-or lower tier wrestling I see in this building, the level of polish from a WWE show is evident.

However, my biggest complaint of the whole event and getting to the point of this post was simply the fact that I had the unfortunate misfortune to have been seated next to an extremely obese person whose body continuously transcended the boundaries of their own seat, and I had to spent nearly the entire show rubbing shoulders and legs with this person and it was rather unpleasant and had a tangible negative influence on my general enjoyment of the show outright.

Let me also point out that Center Stage was built in the 60s and hasn’t really changed much since then, meaning the seats haven’t been renovated and maximized like on an airplane, meaning reduced in order to shoehorn as many people in as possible.  They’re actually very generous and comfortable seats, when seated next to ordinary human beings.  Just for context at being able to picture the size of the person that effectively put a damper on my entire experience.

Now before anyone can immediately accuse me of being a fatphobic asshole, I do believe large people have the same rights as everyone else.  They shouldn’t be denied the ability to enjoy things like live experiences and travel because of their size.

However, I do think that society has been way too quick to deem obesity and all other forms of habits of excess as, addiction, and labeling addiction as a disease, instead of what I think it is, bad habits gone rampant with those with them lacking the willpower and fortitude to try and break them.  The fat guy seated next to me wasn’t fat because he has the disease of addiction, he’s fat because like so many stereotypical wrestling fans, he’s a guy who doesn’t exercise, watches too much tv and eats way too much shitty food, and is completely at peace with such lifestyle.

When my friends and I got inside the arena and we were heading up to our seats, I knew it was going to be unpleasant when we got to our row, and he was sitting in one our seats, because the friend he came with was also a big guy, and in typical bro mentality, if you can give a bro space, you give a bro space, but this was a WWE show that was known to be 95%+ sold out.  He was quick to vacate and move to his actual seat and wasn’t a dick about it, but I knew that one of my party was going to have take one for the team and be the unfortunate one to have to sit next to him.

And seeing as how this show was my idea, and it had a way higher cost than what my friends were probably thinking, who aren’t nearly the wrestling fans that I am, I quickly decided that it should probably be me to be the one to eat the shit sandwich, because I’ll do my best to find enjoyment in the show itself, but I’d feel like shit if one of my friends who was probably more there to hang out and casually watch, had to be the one whose experience was ruined by having 3/5 of a seat to watch from.

If being pissed at having to sit next to a guy like this, oozing into my personal space makes me fatphobic, then I guess I am a little fatphobic after all, because there’s not one iota of me that doesn’t believe anyone, whether they believe that they’re fatphobic or not, wouldn’t be absolutely miserable in the conditions I was in. 

I paid a lot of money to go to an event I was really looking forward to, and my general enjoyment of the whole thing was completely sandbagged by virtue of having to sit next to a morbidly obese person whose physical mass was all up in my business for the entire show.

I know it sounds like a terrible, shitty thing to say or write out, but it’s the honest truth, and I don’t think many people in my circumstances would feel differently.  I do not hate the guy for being large, and he has every right to be there as all other paying attendees were.  But I am disappointed and upset with his life’s choices that led to him being the size he was, and disappointed that I was the poor unfortunate soul to have to end up sitting next to him.

I like to believe that I’m not a fatphobic person, seeing as how I could definitely afford to lose 30 pounds or so myself, but I’m also not going to lie and say that my experience at NXT wasn’t neutered by having the unpleasant feeling of a morbidly obese person all up in my space the entire show.  It sucks because this is one of those things that nothing can be done about, because it’s not like when you’re buying tickets for any sort of show, there’s specially designated sections for larger people.  It’s basically just a massive game of Russian Roulette whenever you purchase a seat(s) to anything, and pray that you’re not next to a large person.

And it’s shit like this that really makes me averse to leave the house, and go out and experience things.  Inevitably, other people have the ability to ruin everything, whether they’re doing it deliberately or not.  I maintain that there’s no better place to watch wrestling than at Center Stage, but after an experience like this one, I might have some pause the next time NXT rolls around, because it will be packed, it will be expensive, and my chances of ending up in a situation like this one are tremendously higher than any of the other lower-tier wrestling shows that’s book there.

If my life were different, I would live above a Costco in about two months ago

Better late than never: ground broken in south Los Angeles for a Costco that will have 800~ apartment units above it

I saw this query on my theFacebook feed about if people were willing to live above a Costco should there be a Costco that had residences above one, and my knee-jerk reaction was pffh, absofuckinglutely I would live above a Costco if my life were different, and I didn’t have a wife and kids.

I could only imagine how much money I’d save if I did, knowing that at any given meal of any given day of any given week of any given year, if I were hungry and didn’t want to think about it, I was a literal hop skip and a jump from going downstairs into Costco, and grabbing a hot dog and soda I probably wouldn’t even drink or swap it for water, for a buck-fifty. 

That’s $4.50+tax a day for a food budget, and extrapolate that of the course of a year, and I’m spending like $7K a year on food.  Sure, undoubtedly I wouldn’t be eating a glizzy and soda for every single meal in a year, but that’s still a tremendous savings from what my general food budget is now in comparison, not even factoring in the kids and everyone else I have to carry.

Or I could alternatively meander downstairs, grab a $5 rotisserie chicken and probably fill up a series of cookbooks of all the different things I would do to the meat in order to mix things up, but that might also jeopardize by $7K annual food budget but maybe not if I’m getting multiple meals out of a $5 chicken.

Or, I could be the ultimate shithead and just wander downstairs, pretend to be shopping but really going around and being one of the degenerates who just wants to snag as many free samples as I could, and try to fill up best on free shit, and call it a meal.

Either way, I really don’t see any drawback at all to living above a Costco, other than maybe automotive traffic issues when at their peak times, unless there’s a separated residential means to get in and out of the complex.  Also, cholesterol, if I planned on having the bulk of my meals being hot dog+soda, but human bodies can adapt, and I’m sure someone like me who has the innate ability to never get sick of things would rewire my body do solder through.

I like how a membership is included with the lease agreement, as if a $79 annual fee is really that huge of a benefit when you’re most likely going to be paying like $2100 a month since it is in the greater Los Angeles area.  It’s the equivalent of when Costcos try to sweeten the membership by throwing in a free chicken.  Small, but amusingly meaningful.

Honestly, when the day comes that I become an empty nester, I wouldn’t turn my back on the idea of living above a Costco.  I think it would be pretty incredible to have that kind of convenience just downstairs, but I guess it really depends on how much the cost of living is get into one of these units, and if these things will ultimately begin to migrate to other parts of the country and world.

But to answer the original query, emphatic yes, I would live in an apartment on top of a Costco, without any hesitation.

My 600 Lb. Life needs to go into rebuilding mode

The other night, I logged into Max and went to My 600 Lb. Life, hoping that there would be a new episode posted.  Season 13 has been a clunker of a season, with no real standout participants for all the wrong reasons, and the show has always had a tendency to start and finish their seasons with the best or worse people. 

Episode 7 Juan was another forgettable episode, and I figured that there would have to be someone better to close out the season, but it’s never easy to tell how many episodes there are in these arbitrary seasons, because it’s never been consistent.  So after I logged in and checked in on the series, it became apparent that Juan was the last episode of the season, and mythical wife and I are just kind of like, oh..

Counting season 12, I think it’s safe to say that the series as a whole has put up two straight clunker seasons.  There have been no real memorable participants, and although it’s the guiltiest of pleasures to see when some of them turn into shitheads and fail spectacularly, an occasional success story is always welcome and leaves viewers like me feeling optimistic and satisfied for five minutes. 

But over the course of the last two seasons, there have been barely any successes, even fewer to actually succeed and get the weight loss surgery, and an increasing number of participants whom never even get to Houston and the episodes are these droll journeys of stock footage of Dr. Now wandering around his clinic or St. Joe’s Hospital lamenting at the dangers of being morbidly obese, and occasional video calls with participants where they’re all super eager to comply and participate, before they hang up and do jack shit.

I know the pandemic made TLC and the show have to pivot and allow for more remote participants, but what was the exception has gradually become normal, and the episodes where you just know that a big motherfucker ain’t going to step foot in Houston and actually get face to face with Dr. Now, where the real charm and magic of the show tends to happen.

In fact, S13E06 Deshaun was probably the most depressing episode of My 600 Lb. Life I’ve ever seen, and that’s really saying something considering the clinging to survival nature of the show as a whole.  The man from Omaha had no goals, no aspirations, no dreams, and no motivation whatsoever, with the closest thing to a want being, getting out of Omaha and going to fucking Missouri.  Like, when the place you want to end up going to is Missouri, you know the bar couldn’t possibly be buried under the ground any lower.

Unsurprising, he like loses no weight, dodges his weigh-ins, so we never get a number of his actual weight, dodges his virtual therapy sessions, is extremely difficult to get a hold of with Dr. Now, and by the time the episode ends, two months early, he’s completely fallen out of contact, and is speculated to have blocked Dr. Now’s office outright. 

As I’m watching this episode, I know all human life is precious and all that, but I genuinely was feeling like this is a person that really has no business, existing.  He probably draws disability, basically exists solely to eat trash and play video games and watch television, but he provides even less purpose to the world than inmates in prison, whom at least have to do some sort of labor to repay society.

I’d never been more depressed watching an episode of My 600 Lb. Life more than I have with Deshaun, and that’s a pretty bold proclamation because there have been episodes where the participants have actually died.

Frankly, I think the show really needs to go back to the drawing board with their format.  It genuinely feels like it’s been on auto-pilot for the last 4-5 seasons, but it’s easier to ignore when you get the occasional gem of a participant who is a total trainwreck, an ass to Dr. Now, which usually takes the shackles off of him to start zinging back, but then eventually goes to therapy, supercharges their mental health and they get on the train and actually lose some fucking weight.

But over the last few seasons, the show has basically been following a template.  Every episodes starts with the participant waking up, lamenting on how they’re surprised to be alive, they have an awkward shower and then eat the mother of all breakfasts before the first commercial break.  Month 1 starts with them all talking about this doctor in Houston that specializes in helping people like me as if we all haven’t seen the last 13 seasons of this show, and depending on where they’re located, either they make a very long drive where you just know every participant is looking forward to the highways of road food available to them and they gain an extra 5-10 lbs before they see Dr. Now, or as has been increasing, they’re just too far away from Houston, and have a mostly pointless video call with Dr. Now, eagerly agree to get started on the program, and then hang up and probably go on another binge once the cameras are off.

Afterward, 9 out of 10 participants completely fail to meet the initial weight loss milestone, and nobody ever exceeds it, and Dr. Now has been too nice and too empathetic over the last two seasons, mostly because his reputation seems to precede him and nobody wants to throw hands with Ali, and he has little reason to be tough in return, and he just tells them the same goal, 70 pound in two munt and they’re on their merry way.

The show then goes into a strange fast forward through the remainder of the months, with sometimes them going back to Houston for follow-ups, and others ducking Dr. Now or their appointed therapy, and if there’s any surgeries, they usually happen in like months 7-10, and that’s only if they’ve managed to get their shit together and lost at least 80% of their goal weight loss, and find a place to live in Houston. 

The endings of every episode feel real rushed and hackneyed, and it’s fairly obvious to me that such is done in order to create separation between the filming of an episode of My 600 Lb. Life versus their eventual Where Are They Now? episode, and I feel like the latter is probably why the prime show has gotten so templatized, because the spin-off has become as much of a mainstay as the prime, and it’s like it’s a means to conserve content so that there can be a follow-up.

Like I said, I think the show needs to take a few steps back and reset their approach to producing.  I get that Dr. Now is like 80, not going to be doing this much longer, and probably on a personal level, doesn’t want to deal with shitheads like the Assanti brothers, and people who give him a colossal amount of grief.  But this shit is television, and we degenerate viewers need to see some shitheads and strong personalities that bring the best-worst out of Dr. Now, and everyone ends up happy when he lights a fire under their asses and drags results out of them.

So we need some real strong participants, that will bring out the Dr. Now fans all love, perhaps some more stringent participant rules and guidelines to ensure we have fewer Deshauns who turtle up the whole episode and more Jonathans (S13E01) who actually manage to do things with his life.  The current format has also been a little deceptive in presentation, because most everyone over the last few seasons fails after their initial consult, and we’re never seeing the diet cheating they’re doing, so that it’s more of a surprise (but it’s not) when they go to their next weigh-in and have only lost like 7 lbs.  It’s like, we know they’re going to fuck up, might as well let us see it.

Fewer remote participants because the journey is already hard enough, but adding insurmountable distance on top it leads to more episodes you just know are going to eventually dead end, and at one point, I found it to be astounding when there was a season where zero people actually got surgery, but now it’s becoming the norm, and this isn’t helping.

I love the show too much to give up on it cold turkey, but we’ve literally had two straight duds of seasons.  Megalomedia, TLC, and the Nowzaradans need to get their shit together, and breathe some life back into the series, because although I might, I can’t speak for everyone else out there, on if they’ll tolerate sitting through a third straight turdy pound turd, especially when we all know what the series is capable of.