whirling breast vortex

Those of us who read entertainment news with any degree of amusement, skepticism, or fascination have probably greeted the idea of Spike TV with either a waggle of eyebrow (or at least a waggle of tentacle). “Television for men,” they say.

“So,” you say (if you’re me), “what portions of the male television need have not been met? What heretofore-undiscovered niche of male television programming has not already been exploited for its inherent commercial breaks?”

Hmm, sports? No. Whatever sport-related activity doesn’t get broadcast on the major air channels gets picked up on ESPN’s exhaustive coverage of $all_things_sport_related. Terminal cases of I-Am-Bob-Vila Syndrome? Cartoons? Both dominate air time on Saturday mornings, guaranteeing that all men will either a) spend money at a home improvement store or b) stay inside and game all afternoon. Boobs and ass? Cinemax and HBO have them, well, not exactly covered, but you get the idea.

Allowances have to be made for personal peccadilloes, like the appreciation of “Good Eats” or the occasional need for “Monk”-esque quirky humor, but you have to admire the NewNewNewNewNew^15 TNN’s determination to find that single unfilled niche and, well, fill it to bursting.

Their answer: the only things the American male can’t find enough of on broadcast cable are cartoon boobs. Therefore, “Stripperella.”

In the interest of humor, good domesticat entries, and sheer bitchy points, we tivoed it. Just once. So we could say that we saw it.

It’s comforting to know that in the age of disclaimers, every now and then a disclaimer comes along that not only tells you who the show is for, but gives subtle cues as to the kind of humor that lies within the upcoming show. We were relieved to see that, according to the animators, Stripperella is rated ‘CFFA.’

This rating does double duty. (Rather like breasts themselves, which perhaps was the point.) Children too young to watch the show will - of course! - read that rating and say, “Oh, I shouldn’t watch this show.” An unintended side effect is that any adult with half a brain will look at it and say, “Oh, gee, they want to be cartoon porn but they just can’t convince those dastardly network executives to let us show it.”

This show should come with an extra slogan: “Taking cartoon porn as far as possible on basic cable. Which isn’t very far.”

Ranting aside, I’ll stop for breath long enough for you to ask the one question that’s been on your mind: “But is it funny?”

Not intentionally. Rant on.

I realize I’m not a guy, but I’m as much of a sucker for a well-drawn ‘toon as the next geek girl, but I realize I’ve been had when the majority of the title sequence involves cartoon closeups of cartoon boobs and ass during a cartoon striptease.

Meanwhile, Jeff and I both wearing expressions that say “Wow. I’m. So. Hot. Make. It. Stop.” Oh, wait, they’re zooming in - wow, a scene showing nothing but boobs, but oh darn, they’re clothed. I’m so disappointed.

Mentally, I ask myself, “Are cartoon nipples allowed under broadcast regulations?” but my thought was interrupted by Jeff who, after recovering breath from explosive laughter, says, “I bet every opening title sequence is set up so that she never manages to get her top off.”

Then the screen is filled with a shot of a generous cartoon ass not covered by a very skimpy cartoon g-string, and we howl with laughter for another couple of minutes. In that time, we are hammered with Plot Points A through D, and we get to see another cartoon stripper in the cartoon club. ….oh my. Look, Mommy! The cartoon stripper has her cartoon top off, and … they’re blurring out bare cartoon tits? What are they afraid of, that a boy will see a nipple while he’s under the age of consent? It’s not as if they bite…

All intelligent life in this house convulsed in laughter at this point. We had to hit ‘rewind’ to see it again. Just for the cackle value.

Jeff and I momentarily shared our brain, as spouses are often wont to do. We looked at each other and realized in horror what this breathy vehicle for Pamela Anderson’s cup size was: softcore pr0n for boys whose parents don’t order any flavor of spank-o-vision from the local cable company and whose access to the interweb is now controlled by strict pr0n filters.

We watched the rest of the show in slackjawed amusement. It goes something like this:

1. Provide obvious plot point.
2. Oooh, a breast!
3. Provide obvious plot point.
4. Oooh, the other breast!
5. Commercial break.
6. More breasts.
7. Commercial break.
8. Obvious plot - oooh, breasts!
9. Obv - ooh, BREASTS!
10. BREASTS!
11. BREASTS!BREASTS!BREASTS!BREASTS!BREASTS!BREASTS!BREASTS!
12. end credits

It’s like a whirling vortex. Only with more breasts.

Here’s to the breast empowerment of deprived thirteen-year-old boys everywhere.

Current music: the Eagles, Greatest Hits volume 1 and volume 2

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