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Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: Heathcliffs, Cocktails, and Hot Dans Ahoy!

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TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: Cocktails 🌭

Cocktails is the trailer for a show that was never made because this world is an unceasing tragic parade of missed opportunities and live-action anime adaptations. It’s a teaser for an epic gay drama made by a man named Ron Merk, who looks like an excommunicated Keebler Elf (the cracker and flatbread elves are a notoriously repressed people). Instead of just shopping an idea around, Merk decided he was going to make a seven minute testament to unintentional comedy. It’s going to seem like Too Many Cooks set in The Stud, but I promise you: This is completely real and totally earnest. Ron Merk is still trying to get this made, and if there’s any justice in this world, he will succeed. 

It’s always recommended that you read Teamworking Days stripped down to your 1-900-🌭 Official Rubber Panties (Unisex) but that’s doubly true today because this article is going to be…

Brockway: Don’t give up in the first few minutes where Ron Merk just tells the extremely boring story behind the inception of Cocktails, which is that he discovered the San Francisco gay bar scene late in life and mistakenly assumed he’d uncovered a secret society, instead of a punchline from a 1997 Bob Saget standup routine. It’s worth watching just to hear Merk reverently tell of that time a friend demanded he call his show about gay bartender stories Cocktails. I don’t know if Ron doesn’t get the pun, or if he thinks the pun is deeper than it is, but he delivers that line with absolutely no humor. He reads that one line so straight that if his family could see it, they’d finally invite him back to the knothole for Elvesgiving. 

Seanbaby: So the entire sizzle reel is a pointless explanation of how this was once a reality show project about gay bartenders. Maybe after seeing how the life of a Castro bartender is a single gasp of air every 700 vodka stingers, the producer thought, “What if we just made a show with actors?” And then he thought, “What if instead of only being about sassy men of leisure, it was about everything.”

The preview then does something I’ve never seen before– instead of setting up the plot or showing exciting moments, it introduces every single character and teases every single one of their mysterious secrets. It is an onslaught of drama without context starring the Bay Area’s most available community theater actors. It is a blinding, unfiltered look inside an uncreative mind’s proudest ideas. By the end, you’ll start to see the show’s plot form, but this seems to be entirely by accident. We should just get started because there are four million of them and the less you know going in the better. Here are The Characters of Cocktails, unedited and in their entirety:

Seanbaby: The very first character we meet is Detective Chuck O’Brien, whose only complications are his uncontrollable horniness and his obsession to catch a serial killer. His eyes dart in every direction. He’s going to get himself San Francisco’s most elusive murderer or a soft-lipped twink, whichever he sees first.

Brockway: That porkpie hat and soul patch combo is also out of control, Chuck. This was filmed in 2011, well past the sexpiration date for husky narcs into Reel Big Fish. I love how Chuck frantically looks in every direction when the subtitles mention a serial killer. Like he’s going to be in eyeshot. Clearly Ron Merk told the City College of San Francisco’s 17th greatest actor to pretend like he’s looking for something, and wisely cut the take where Chuck mimed pulling out a giant spyglass and tracking imaginary footprints. 

Seanbaby: This guy’s backstory is that he fucks too much to be a pop singer. I can’t tell if that’s good writing, or the best writing.

Brockway: Oh man, one of these characters is into hard drugs and sex? What compelling drama! I look forward to exploring his downward spiral as others around him struggle with their own issues, unable to relate to his addictions.

Seanbaby: I bet someone in 1990 would feel comfortable making a joke about the show’s only African American faking a gender transition to trick her drug dealer. All I have to offer is, “You named the black character Jet? Were there no copies of Hype Hair in your cardiologist’s office?”

Brockway: This is what’s beautiful about Cocktails, and also why we have 73 characters left to go. Nothing is left off the page. If there’s a drug dealer hunting Jet, he’s a character. Now he’s in the show. He gets his own two-slide bio that maybe mentions how he left his keys with a valet. Now the valet’s in the show. He wants to be the battleprince of gay roller derby, but his rival, Skate Winslet, will not let that happen. Now Skate Winslet’s in the show, and he’s got a terrible secret, he’s actually Quince Waithwhite, billionaire heir to-

Brockway: ā€œHey, so I only got like four seconds to show this guy haunted by guilt and the suicide of his son. How should I frame this? Just have him standing inches behind a young man and staring intently? Yeah, that’s probably the best way to communicate that complicated emotion in this trailer featuring 47 other gay men staring lustily at each other’s backs.ā€

Seanbaby: “Okay, ladies, that’s three blended margaritas and I miss my boy. You want me to run the card or hold onto it because it’s my fault he’s dead? Cheers, girls, and as memories fade, how much longer will I still hear his voice?”

Brockway: And now you see where Cocktails starts to go off the cockrails. What kind of childhood accident turns you into a smoldering doppelganger? What kind of bartender can only mimic the actions of others? How does anybody get a drink and not just a mocking impression of their own order? I’m being too hard on Skip. Skip is the life of every party, since his Mimic ability allows you to doublecast Meteo. 

Seanbaby: I hope Skip is central to the show. Do his powers only work for celebrity impressions, or could he rob a bank after staring at the world’s greatest safecracker? I’d love it if every episode’s B-plot was Skip stumbling into football games or pit fights. At first he would look confused and helpless, but then the camera would push in on his smirk. He’s seen everything he needs. He could save the bar by making a high-stakes bet against Brian Boitano who would say, “Impossible! W-who taught you how to dance on the ice like that?” And Skip would smirk, “You just did.” Holy shit, maybe his power could also work on motorcycles?

Brockway: I know this show hasn’t even happened yet, but Skip needs his own spin-off. I would absolutely devour the weekly adventures of Skip Slippins: Homosexual Copycat.

Brockway: One of the best things about Cocktails is how they slip a dud in there once in a while just to keep the pacing from going flat. If every single character is slamming dope straight into their eyeballs just to get the energy they need to strip for the Pope, you might get bored with it. You need a break from the drama just so you can appreciate it better. Jed Peterson is here to give you that break.

Seanbaby: Yeah, I didn’t even fucking write a joke for Jed and Austin.

Brockway: I have a theory that most of the duds are here to be cannon fodder to up the stakes. Beau Boudreau will make it to the very last episode on the strength of that name alone, but I promise you Merrick Da Silva will die in episode 3 just to teach Skip that you can mimic a lot of things, but can you mimic… love?

Seanbaby: Let’s say you met a stranger in a men’s room who offered to take you to dinner and then spent the entire meal bringing you to climax with his foot before holding you close all night. If after four days of sharing stories and making love you said, “Buddy, what’s with all the Adam Lambert songs on your playlist? Are we using your girlfriend’s iTunes or something?” you would have better gaydar than MERRICK DA SILVA’s wife.

Brockway: She’s sharing this on Facebook with the caption ā€œmy beautiful man just goofing around with his friends!ā€ She pretends to laugh at all the eggplant emojis, but they haunt her. They do haunt her.

Brockway: So if I’m reading this right, Flavio is a stage persona that itself has a drag queen persona? We’re doing meta-personas? This counts exponentially, Cocktails. This is like sixteen characters. You’ve burned sixteen characters on Mocha De La Creme.

Seanbaby: I’ve never seen a screenshot that so clearly says, “Ay, you know what it’s like growing up gay and Latino with eleven sisters? Snap, what, they treated Flavio exactly like one of the girls! Oh, but they remembered Flavio was a boy when they needed something heavy lifted, right? It’s like, AYUDA AYUDA, FLAVIO! I FELL IN THE TOILET, FLAVIO! Um, heh, that’s not the kind of wet asshole Flavio is interested in, Abuelita! Snap, what? Ay ay ay, THAT’S an hamburguesa con queso. Ay gracias, San Francisco! I’m Flavio! Get home safe, but not before buying a “Snap, what?” shirt by the door! And THAT’S an hamburguesa con queso!” Like if he’s not saying word-for-word –exactly that– in the first screenshot, I will drink this entire can of Mocha De La Creme Ready-to-Drink Wet Asshole Gin Cocktail.

Brockway: I should probably be worried that this is racially insensitive, but mostly I just want to find a way to say I’m on that Duolingo lesson, too. I’ll try to work sandwich de pescado in here somewhere.

Seanbaby: So you’re telling me Jessica’s main personality traits are “Has no idea her husband is gay,” and “Uses drugs and alcohol to cope with how the first one’s not true?” Great. But this casting choice seems to demonstrate how few women the producers know. This actress is a Cat Mom or a Bride’s Friend #7, not a Death-Spiralling Junkie. Her copy should say:

Brockway: Jessica, you’re going to die in episode two in some kind of mechanical bull accident just to show Merrick that being true to yourself is the most important thing of all. And he’s not going to learn that, so he’ll die an episode later to that same bull. You’re both duds. Dead, dead duds.  

Not like this delicious sandwich de pe-

No, I’m forcing it. I’m sorry. It’ll happen organically.

Brockway: He looks like he’s finding out about the second part of his character description right there in that frame. Holy shit, can Dante… can Dante read his own subtitles? Is Dante the fourth-wall breaking Deadpool of the Cocktails universe? Quick, jump down and warn Shimon that the Rabbi suspects! The Rabbi suspects!

Seanbaby: What’s a dream that would require your lover to never sing again? Another vocalist up for a spot in Bearmeat Danny and the Doughy Bad Beards? An aspiring podcaster sharing a studio apartment? Being a guy whose dying wish was for Dante to shut the fuck up? YoU gAve uP a gREat sInGIng caReEr tO MaKe YoUr lOVEr’s drEaM cOme tRUe? Dante, your bio sounds like a Facebook message you wrote after someone from glee club asked if you still sing.

Seanbaby: So Rosa is a lesbian. And her girlfriend, Jet, is a man, but only when she’s hiding from her drug dealer or her in-laws. I guess I get it, but I’m worried the writer doesn’t? This isn’t so much a spectrum of sexuality as a series of puzzles and tricks. Like a corn maze with a nude intruder.

Brockway: No I got it, she’s a lesbian who thinks she’s falling in love with a man and reconsidering her sexuality but she shouldn’t, because that man is a woman so actually — wait, she could think she’s straight but then falls in love with the woman behind the man she… Look, it’s just C-talk, baby.

This is already seven more characters than any show in history. Are we getting close to done?

Seanbaby: We’re not even done with the characters who are also other characters.

Seanbaby: This motherfucker’s real name is the sound Michael Jackson made when he grabbed his dick and he decided to call his shock jock character “SHOCK JOCK?” Who’s your co-host? A guy named Mamasaymamasaw Mamamoosah whose Habesha family doesn’t know he’s “CONTROVERSIAL SIDEKICK?” And who’s your band leader? “CARLOS HORNBLOW? He is the greatest trumpet player in the world… but El Cartel has sworn to kill his daughter if he ever plays again?”

Brockway: I’m not going to make fun. Sometimes when I can’t think of a character name I write a placeholder and forget about it, too. It sucks when you submit a manuscript and the editor tells you she doesn’t get how EXTREMELY HORNY ULTIMATE WARRIOR DON’T FORGET TO FIX THIS is relevant to Janet’s emotional arc.

Seanbaby: Seriously, though, what a revealing look into a lazy writer’s process this is. It’s like the only work he did was an hour of inserting his karaoke friends into a spreadsheet and he’s sure the show is all but made. I feel like I’m reading a sidebar under the words “Meet the characters from Rob Liefeld’s All-New X-N-Forcers, bursting into a comic shop near you in Fall of 1999!”

Brockway: Okay, I’m here now. I’m in the river of characters that is Cocktails. The river that will never end, that will flow forever, the river I was born in and that I float in now and will one day die in, washed until I disintegrate and my bones tumble to pieces so that the fish may feed so that the fisherman may feed on the fish. I am the sandwich de pescado. I am to be devoured and shat and flushed into the river again, because this is all there is. It’s only the river. There has never been anything but the Cocktails roll call.

Seanbaby: Weird. I haven’t noticed any effects from reading all these mysterious twists…

… while on the trail of the shark who knows my father’s real name.

Seanbaby: Great job, MIKE LARSEN. From among this massive group of uninteresting community theater actors, you’re the one that made the director say, “This guy is perfect for the role I didn’t come up with anything cool for.” All of these characters manage a gay bar in San Francisco and have parents who hate them. This is like being introduced with Rob Liefeld’s X-N-Forcers and your only power is “shares an outdoor space with the X-N-Forcers.”

Brockway: What happened here? I feel like a template fucked up. Ron Merk had a spreadsheet with 940 characters and seventeen thousand random personality traits ranging from hard drugs to sex to shapeshifter, and somebody forgot to fill out Mike Larsen. Even his name sucks. Mike Larsen is the guy in front of you at the DMV who wants to know the history of license plates. Mike Larsen is the sound you make as you barely orgasm from difficult masturbation. Mike Larsen is so forgettable that it’s… suspicious. 

Oh. Mike Larsen is the serial killer. Chuck! Look down, you were right! He was within eyeshot! 

Brockway: Holy shit the guy trying to kill Jet is also Rosa’s cousin! Everything is related to everything. This is a nest of snakes eating each other and themselves. This whole show is just a gay remix of the ā€œI’m My Own Grandpaā€ song.

Seanbaby: “Rosa, your new boyfriend… Jet. He seems ah… familiar. He reminds me of a… woman I once knew. And I notice he ah… purchased your tampons quickly as if he knew the type to get and did not have to read the box. Curious. Perhaps it is nothing. Or perhaps I, the murderer hunting a woman with your boyfriend’s face, will pursue this suspicion more and more over the course of the season.”

Brockway: …She’s learning pottery! 

Fucking Cousin Shelly, we have like eighteen gay drug dealing hard murderers living quintuple lives – you cannot be coy with your twist this late in the game.

Seanbaby: She’s the only one not actively abusing drugs or murdering, and in the context of Cocktails that counts as “a wonderful secret.”

Brockway: Wait, was that Cousin Shelley’s wonderful secret? Because that is a starting point for like four characters already. ā€œUsed to be a manā€ is nothing — that’s the setup for the audience to be stunned when slide two reveals you’re actually six drones working the strings of a man-sized puppet in the shape of the hottest bartender at SnaXXX. And Papa Behr gets no description? He’s trying to slide through here on Cousin Shelley’s non-secret? You’re both dead in episode one. Cold open. You’re the victims that send Detective Chuck O’Brien on his quest for justice and just ass.

Seanbaby: Any writer who names the group’s gay patriarch character “Papa Behr” definitely has a men’s choir named “Perfect Har-Men-y.” This is something Rob Liefeld would name a guy with bear hands. I’m surprised Shelley didn’t end up getting called “Mommy Gary.”

Seanbaby: The Amulet of Mill Valley lies unclaimed, for while DJ CALIFORNIA is taking female lovers, no one is working to solve the ancient riddle tattooed on his back.

Brockway: DJ California, the Californian DJ, sat down to write a list of potential DJ names for his gigs in California. It was one entry long. ā€œGuess I’m going with DJ California,ā€ he said, to nobody.

Seanbaby: Hey, Eric Ortiz, if you list how you have sex third in your bio after your side gig? You’re not fucking enough. If I was in Cocktails, it would say “SEANBABY – Power fucks you right in your face and writer. There are no limits to his dreams.”

Brockway: ā€œBROCKWAY: Cries before, during, and after — not for himself, but for the genitals he’s destroyed and writer. Once saw two cats that looked alike!ā€

Seanbaby: That’s it? He’s a drug dealing photographer about to get a killer career opportunity? And “killer” isn’t in quotes? I guess I can solve that mystery then– he’s going to get asked to deal more drugs or take more photographs. John Padderson should team up with Mike Larsen to form some kind of Least Interesting Gays squad. “Mike, I’m home! With good news and Olive Garden. You didn’t finish the puzzle without me, did you? We are having a mild autumn. Did you get my text about the Real Housewives meme but the cat is Garfield.”

Brockway: Okay, now I’m torn. I don’t know much about Ron Merk – I know he knows upwards of fifty-seven gay men willing to be on camera for four seconds each and he’s destined to write this generation’s Gone With the Wind — but I also just feel it to be true that he’s the kind of guy who puts every pun in quotation marks. Maybe also italics, if he’s feeling saucy. If ā€˜killer’ is not a pun, then the twist of this show is that there are actually two serial murderers hiding in plain sight. I hope they hook up.

Seanbaby: You might remember Wayne Doyle from earlier as the daddy haunted by his son’s suicide. Anyway, it’s sweet when an age-inappropriate romance can blossom between a man with crippling son issues and a man with crippling father issues. I think a psychologist would explain this relationship as not unlike a heroin addict fucking heroin’s sister.

Brockway: This is the creepiest and most confusing relationship dynamic since those two basic bitch serial killers found love in the… last section? That was only one section ago? I am losing touch with time. How long have we been here? Are we dead? I feel like Cocktails is trying to subtly tell us that we might be dead so we can move on to the light without excess trauma.  

Brockway: Okay yeah, we’re dead. We’re dead and we’ve accidentally(?) been sent to Gay Limbo. I get it. You didn’t have to make me feel stupid about it, Cocktails. 

Seanbaby: Torch songs are usually about a longing for someone who will never love you back, so I think I’ve figured out why Pearl Lee and her man are having so many problems. Or she just likes to make karaoke less fun? Presumably some of these characters have to be “Mariah Carey fan gay” and not “Cocaine sex kidnapper gay.”

Brockway: I am not at all confident in that presumption. 

Brockway: ā€œMr. The Weasel, your closing statements please.ā€ 

ā€œ[eloquent chittering]ā€

Seanbaby: I fully admit I have lost my mind. I made this:

Brockway: You’re not going to believe me when I tell you I did not make this:

Brockway: Wait. 

Wait.

No, wait.

Wait.

So it goes 27 hard druggin’ hard bangin’ gay men trying to find themselves and then Italian FBI Street Samurai? Where the fuck does Tina Antonucci fit into this dynamic? How is she going to interact with literally any other character? Pearl Lee Gaytes is just good at karaoke. DJ California is the kind of human CalorieMate that plays Semisonic when it’s last call. What the fuck are they going to say to Special Agent Tanya Bushido? ā€œGot any sword polishing tips?ā€ That’s cute one time, Cocktails.

Seanbaby: 

Brockway: So several dozen gay men wrestling with their identities, one razorgirl, and now a psychic archangel of the lord? This took such a hard turn from San Francisco’s Sex In The City straight into homosexual Shadowrun. Wait, was Cocktails not being metaphorical when it called Tina part angel? When it said Pearl Lee Gaytes has been to hell and back?! Holy shit is this the gay Supernatural we’ve always needed but never deserved??? Sorry, I mean the gayer Supernatural we’ve always needed but never deserved???

Seanbaby: It’s some kind of miracle that after 780 characters of escalating derangement, Ron Merk still didn’t come close to setting this up. This is nonsense. The only character who even has a religion is Shock Jock, and it’s the wrong one and only for a couple hours a day. Gabriel’s slide might as well say:

Brockway: THE ACTUAL DEVIL! The final character in Cocktails’ exhaustive list of the colorful San Francisco bar scene is the literal biblical devil. I’m assuming they’re not even being cute about telling us he’s a top. Every pitch should end with ā€œoh yeah, AND THE DEVIL.ā€ You name me one show that is not dramatically approved by the logline ending in unexpected Satan.

During a government experiment into time travel, a scientist finds himself trapped in the past, “leaping” into the bodies of different people on a regular basis and sorting out their problems, while accompanied by his wise-cracking sidekick, THE ACTUAL DEVIL.

Eight year-old orphan Beth Harmon is quiet, sullen, and by all appearances unremarkable. That is, until she plays her first game of chess. Her senses grow sharper, her thinking clearer, and for the first time in her life she feels herself fully in control of THE ACTUAL DEVIL. 

No ordinary teenager; Raven Baxter can see glimpses of the future! Watch her schemes and misadventures as she enlists the help of friends, including best friends Eddie, Chelsea, and THE ACTUAL DEVIL. That’s So Satan, coming this fall!

Seanbaby: 

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Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: The Stickiest Fortnight

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Hot Dog Appreciation Day

Hot Dog Appreciation Day: Do the Bisexual Bob

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TEAMWORKING DAY

Teamworking Day: Photon 🌭

BEFORE THERE WAS TIME, THERE WAS…

PHOTON!

That’s how Photon opens. Well, that and a massive pulsing space cock.

Brockway: Photon was the name of the very first laser tag game back in the early ā€˜80s. Photon was also the name of the tie-in TV show, which explained and promoted laser tag in the least effective way possible. The concept of the game was ā€œchildren can now shoot each other without need for a half-size coffin and a special sermon from Pastor Ted.ā€ The concept for the show was ā€œthere’s a crystal energy force which creates and sustains life in our universe… and we use it to play laser tag.ā€ There was, of course, an evil warlord that wanted to corrupt our precious laser tag mako. What a sinister fiend! What a dire creature!

He kind of looked like somebody strangling a muppet.

Seanbaby: He looks like something that would pop out of Robocop’s chest in a Saturday Night Live Robocop vs. Aliens sketch to say, “Where is the beef, creep.” And then the actual Where’s the Beef lady would walk out in full tactical gear, wait for the applause to die and deliver, “H-hey. robot… Hey, robo-alien. That’s my line.” Then she would fire a prop shotgun at it two seconds before a gun sound effect. “There’s the beef, you bitch,” would scream Jon Lovitz before host Sigourney Weaver walked on to add, “Hey, that’s my line. Ladies and gentlemen… Kenny Loggins!” Hold on, I’m accidentally making this really good. I’m going to go get some of these ideas down, Brockway. I’ll be back in two lazer tag guys!

Brockway: Don’t bring up Kenny Loggins! We’re in the middle of doing a thi-

Yeah, fine. We’re gonna need to give him some Loggins time. Let’s all pretend we don’t know exactly what that means.

All right, well, here are a few of the Warmuppet’s evil henchmen, looking like references I don’t get in the bathroom line at Comic Con.

Brockway: The temptation is toward pity here. Whoever sets out to fight Cybergoth Adam Ant and Reanimated Magikarp better hand out a lot of free swings or they’re going to look like a war criminal. But it’s actually a pretty even battlefield, because here’s our protagonist.

Brockway: Bodhi Li looks like an inspirational story segment in a very special episode of American Gladiators. He fights like he’s joking but he’s worried that your mom is watching and might think he’s serious. He will take every opportunity to do a somersault but he will take zero opportunities to learn how to somersault.

And he is the very best of our squad.

The rest of the hero roll call does not get better. We’ve got…

Pile of Shit in a Hardhat.

Seanbaby: “Ah, thank you for coming in. This is a very wet resume… it says here you’re currently employed as ‘ME FIX THE HOLES IN THE POTTY ON YUGOSLAVIA’S #9 KID’S SHOW.’ What if, Pile of Shit in a Hardhat, I could offer you a position as an assistant laser master? Gassy poop sound? Is that a yes? It is? Great, congratulations!”

Brockway: Yes, this is definitely a Wrong Universe children’s icon. This is what would come back if Bob the Builder went on the Event Horizon ship. He’s the mascot Troom Troom doesn’t know it needs yet.

Next up on our roster of heroes: A Make-A-Wish Kid just now realizing he could have asked for a ride in KITT instead.

Seanbaby: I knew going into this they were going to have a character whose superpower was Being Nine. I don’t know if it’s worth getting to know a character so obviously about to die, and besides, I’m still thinking about Pile of Shit in a Hardhat. His full, wide lips and gentle eyes… I’m wondering if he’s very handsome for a poop monster, or do his people have a grotesque, alien standard of beauty? He’s probably hideous to his own kind. Rising to the very top of a lazer toy game is not a thing you do when you’re a poop monster who fucks.

Brockway: This is crazy. This is pure free association. I can’t even point you to why I think this, much less any kind of evidence this is true. But…

Doesn’t Pile of Shit in a Hardhat kind of look like Rob Lowe?

Like if Rob Lowe banged a caricature artist’s wife and the man’s only impotent path to revenge was through his art?

I don’t mean Rob Lowe looks like a Pile of Shit in a Hardhat! He’s a beautiful man. I just mean that maybe there’s an outside chance that Pile of Shit in a Hardhat is his sewage planet’s Rob Lowe.

Seanbaby: Honestly, I’m glad you disagree because I had no confidence in my take on this. My gut told me this was a poop hunk, but my head told me even in space, you don’t find Rob Lowe playing laser tag.

Brockway: Continuing the roll call, we’ve got some kind of… papier-mache hunchback crocodile pilot?

Brockway: This is a classic case of a failure of imagination meeting one too many things. You wanted to make a cool alien but you started from a boring ā€˜crocodile man’ point and then just kept fucking him up until you wound up with this Swamp Thing Skeksis. This Michael Bay reboot of a beloved Ninja Turtles villain.

Seanbaby: If I built puppet men, this is how you would know I wasn’t handling my divorce well. I bet they had to re-record the first episode because you could hear the father of this costume’s designer screaming “YOU ARE NOT MY SON!” This looks like a courtroom drawing of an alligator on trial for diarrhea crimes. Are there any guys on this team who fuck?

Brockway: A single finger curls on a monkey’s paw. Meet… Robot Lionel Richie.

Seanbaby:Photon Master Bodhi Li! Emergency! Emergency! I got too many panties in my intake filter, baby! Bodhi Li, I need your tiny Earth fingers, baby.” I have no notes on Robot Lionel Richie. He’s fantastic, and he proves my theory that “far too much” is the exact right amount of human hair on a robot.

Brockway: See, this is what that shitty crocodile puppet needs to learn: You only need one amazing hook for an iconic character. Lionel Richie plus one other thing is the secret to making an infinite army of badasses. Lionel Richie plus a robot: Lionel Robotchie rules. Lionel Richie plus a jetpack: Flyionel Richie jams. Lionel Richie plus a luchadore: Luchionel Richadore dominates. Lionel Richie plus a lion: Lionel Richie fucks.

In no way equipped to follow Lionel Robotchie is our mandatory strong, competent woman… who is in constant need of rescuing.

Meet — no shit — Tivia, Princess of Nivia.

Seanbaby: Here’s some trivia: Tivia, Princess of Nivia, suffers from basophilia caught via a pizzeria in space Bolivia.

Brockway: Tivia, Princess of Nivia prefers AMD over Nvidia for the way it renders Geralt of Rivia. She’s off sugar and onto Stevia but she still can’t poop without Activia.

Seanbaby: I don’t know enough about Nivia to know how dumb this name is, but it seems like the king of Luxembourg naming his daughter Truxembourg or the deputy mayor of Hackensack naming his daughter Lenny Hackysack. But maybe it’s a testament to the peaceful rule of Nivia where the king’s royal advisers felt comfortable telling him, “Your majesty, you can’t name our goddamn princess Lenny Hackysack. What about a dumb sound that rhymes with our planet? Like Splbbivia… Tivia? Nevermind, Lenny Hackysack is better.”

Brockway: Lets burn through one of Photon’s typical 15-minute episodes: Deadly Thorns.

We’ll jump to one minute in, and Tivia already needs rescuing because the team landed on the flower planet Zakoo and were immediately beaten into submission by large roses. I am not kidding. I am not skipping anything.

Seanbaby: Can you imagine the black heart of the bastard who could have picked anything as the villain and they chose big flowers? This is a universe where a robot can grow a mustache; where a crocodile mother can drink through her entire pregnancy and still raise a certified lazer pilot; and the writer went with roses. What could have inspired it? Did he walk by a romantic dinner and squeal, “What’s that!? That, you fools! That fucking thing on the table between your loving gazes! It’s perfect! I’ve found my show’s villain!”

Brockway: And they get absolutely savaged by these roses. It is not close. All of their weapons are useless against mean plants. Thirty seconds into the battle our main character, Bodhi Li, panics so hard he just fucking takes off.

Seanbaby: Ha ha Bodhi Li sucks. Just blasting lasers blindly in the direction of his friend before abandoning them and falling down. And if I’m understanding his helmet’s visor correctly, it doesn’t protect his face from rose mist? I’ve never seen anyone fuck up anything this hard and I’m an American.

Brockway: I’m going to assume that’s some kind of deadly pollen, which means Bodhi just got fucking wrecked by weaponized plant jizz. He leaves the woman and child for dead and tries to run off into the forest, but it’s too late. He’s going to die how he lived: Being a pussy on several metaphorical levels.

It’s important that you understand I’m not fucking with you while describing this next part. It all happens exactly like this: While Tivia is lying there unconscious, all the sound cuts out and Stevie Wonder’s ā€œIsn’t She Lovelyā€ starts absolutely blasting. The camera slowly pans over her prone body for and then smash cuts to this guy:

Seanbaby: This is impossible. There’s no way this didn’t occur to everyone reading, but licensing a Stevie Wonder hit had to have cost 70 times more than Photon‘s talent and costume budget combined. This is like hiring Bryan Adams to serenade your masturbation.

Brockway: And that’s why they use all of the song. We just listen to Stevie Wonder for several minutes while a pervert dryad contemplates which level of sexual assault this counts as. Then ā€œIsn’t She Lovelyā€ cuts out. An ominous bass line plays. And he makes this face.

Seanbaby: Was the beautiful song meant to soften this sex crime or add menace? Was it added because test audiences saw the grinning pervert tying up the young girl and weren’t sure if he thought she was pretty? And the best they could come up with was “Isn’t She Lovely?” I mean, I guess I’m glad no one has written a top 40 hit about coming upon an unconscious wom– wait. “Sussudio.” Nevermind.

Brockway: Tivia struggles awake to find out she’s been tied up, while the camera frames her terrified expression against his moldy yay nail.

Seanbaby: Jesus fuck. You know, it just occurred to me no one is going to believe this, but we picked this episode of Photon at random. We said, “This looks like a fun kind of dumb,” and the very first one we watch opens w-with… cocaine rape? Are they all like this? They can’t all be like this.

Brockway: I am unwilling to watch another until I work through my complicated feelings about this one. Anyway, the very strong implication isn’t explicitly followed up on, because this was a children’s show in the 1980s and you could only coyly hint at druidic molestation back then. But playing the song Stevie Wonder wrote for his newborn daughter as a woods pervert vinebangs an unconscious woman offscreen is a level of vicious soundtrack irony that Quentin Tarantino would call ā€œfucking savage my n*****! I can say it with the hard ā€œRā€! Sam Jackson told me I can say it with the hard ā€œRā€ after Jackie Brown!ā€

Seanbaby: To demonstrate his power and increase the stakes, the star pervert commands one of his flowers to lean down and eat a rabbit. There’s something almost innocent about a children’s show writer who looks at the current situation and thinks, “I need to add a bunny crushing so people know this is serious.”

Brockway: The children might think an implied sexual assault is all in good fun. But when a sketchy adult has a woman tied up and makes a bunny disappear? Kids, that’s when you know it’s time to start punching groin and screaming for the police. Sure it might ruin the magic show at your 9th birthday party, but at least you’ll live to see a 10th.

Luckily the Runners Up Cosplay Army jumps in to break the tension, and we get a fight scene choreographed by out of shape children who got too fired up during a Power Rangers commercial break.

Seanbaby: If police found a group of costumed men in the park holding a bound woman hostage next to the smashed remains of a bunny, they might ask, “What’s going on here?” And those men might say, “Shit! I mean, hi, officer! We’re filming a… kid’s show?” And then the cops might say, “Okay, great! Well, don’t let us stop you; go ahead.” If those precise circumstances happened, this, exactly this, is what their panicked improvisation would look like. To which the cops might say, “Looks like a pretty fun show. Do us a favor and put that bunny back together before you go, and have a great day. Great acting, ma’am. Very believable.”

Brockway: Speaking of acting, there is either none here or way too much. Never in between. An example: The bad guys realize they’re losing and start hucking hand grenades into the flowers, so Yay Nail Druid screams ā€œMy roses! Nooo!ā€

I didn’t actually have to transcribe that, because he acts every line like he’s putting on a play for deaf children with bad seats:

Seanbaby: It was a bold acting decision to deliver this line like his dick was stuck in a gopher hole. When this actor signs autographs at conventions he probably whispers, “You want to hear a secret? The director of my most well-known episode of Photon told me to stand up when I delivered the famous line ‘MY ROSES! NOOO!’ But I refused. I laid there, pumping my pelvis into the ground– because I knew The Caretaker of Zaku, even in his moment of greatest defeat, would make sure his garden received its seed. Want to hear another secret? I’m not Dabney Coleman. You’re in terrible danger.”

Brockway: The Photon team stops the flower massacre and it turns out the Yay Nail Druid was just misunderstood all along. I guess vine penetration is how his culture says hello. The good guys win, the flower planet is saved, and you should play laser tag for some reason? The laser tag equipment is barely used and never made to look cool. It loses – so badly – to large flowers in the first scene. Everybody lost their dignity, some their virginity, and we are all worse for having witnessed it. Photon was given fifteen free minutes to sell toy guns to children, the easiest thing to sell to the easiest demographic, and they wrote a morality play about why you should give forest perverts a second chance and how space lasers are no match for big roses.

Not even in their desperate pleas to the affiliates could Photon explain why it was supposed to be awesome:

Seanbaby: What are they going for here with Bhodi Li’s distinguishing characteristics? “SHOULDERS:BROAD?” “EYES: BROWN (AND PENETRATING)?” Are you trying to sell me a toy gun or moisten my grandmother? This ad had to explain what laser tag was to a world without laser tag and it spent literally the entire time talking about how yummy its barely legal teen boy mascot was. If I’m a 1982 arcade owner, I am 99% sure “Photon” is a service that sends escorts over to suck my wife’s toes.

Brockway: It is so important to explain what laser tag is here, too, because without that knowledge it looks like Bodhi Li got lost in a vacuum cleaner. You have to at least explain that the show is plugging this specific equipment, otherwise it looks like you bounced your last check to the costume designer. This whole ad is trying to sell a weird sci-fi show with no information about plot, other characters, or setting — only talk about how badass the hero is. And then they include a Sears photo of him wielding mom’s curling iron and wearing half a British post box.

But at least Photon never lied to you. The show promised that you would look like an utter dipshit while playing it, and they kept their word so hard. Here’s the actual Photon gear.

Seanbaby: A lot of ad copy in the ’80s started this same way.

Brockway: Remember, they wanted this to be a multimedia extravaganza. There weren’t just games, toys, and shows — some poor bastard even had to write full novels around the premise ā€œLaser tag, but 58,998 more words than that!ā€

Seanbaby: If our fathers, maybe the Ultimate Warrior, was here, I think he’d want us to make the rest of this article about the Photon novels.

Brockway: Okay, listen: I know it sucks that they whitewashed both the male and female leads. In theory. But let’s pause for a moment. Would you really want representation here? Like this? I’d argue that replacing the multi-racial cast of Photon with generic whiteys is actually a form of civil rights protest.

Seanbaby: They centered the entire marketing of this phaser toy system around the brown-haired fuckability of its mascot. This is a blonde guy who looks like he should be named Astro Abstinence. A narrator should be explaining how, “Astro’s purity ray zaps away sinful urges, but it may never be turned on himself! His will alone must resist the allure of the beautiful Tivia of Nivia… the curves of her star bra! The silky penis hair of her robot companion, Robot Lionel Richie!”

Brockway: Tivia, Princess of Nivia? A mask does not hide your royal identity when you make it out of fishnet.

Brockway: Oof, I don’t know. I’m not feeling the ā€œhigh stakesā€ here. Orcs lose a little something when you paint them Safety Orange. The ability to ambush, for one. Plus that monster’s wearing quilted slacks and his fingerless glove budget rivals a John Cougar Mellencamp roadie team. If I saw this guy running at me I’d assume he was going to hit me up for gas money because ā€œthe IROC is more like just a regular rock now, you get it? You got a cigarette? I’ve got some Rush. Band or drug, your choice.ā€

Seanbaby: I couldn’t possibly know this about myself for sure, but I think if I was painting the cover for a laser tag book, I wouldn’t have the main character pinned down by a shirtless alien while he gives it a footjob. HIGH STAKES? More like HI, STAKOR-7’S BONER! Seriously, though; I’m sure it makes sense when you get to this part in the book.

Seanbaby: This one feels authentic, like they polled actual laser tag players to find out what challenges they face and the most common answer was, “I lost my mommy.”

Brockway: In this very special Photon adventure, Bodhi Li must go ā€œIn Search of Momā€ to show young children overstimulated by the many sounds of a laser tag game that they should never feel ashamed to ask for an adult.

I’m going to be a buzzkill here: I looked it up and the real answer is that ā€œMOMā€ is the Photon team’s Zordon – the name of the computer that gives them missions. That uh… that doesn’t make it any better, does it?

Seanbaby: When your only job is prioritizing laser rescue missions, I’m not sure it’s heroic or even ethical to put “come save me!” at the top of the queue. But it must be exciting because, and this isn’t a joke, this book is currently priced at seven hundred sixty eight dollars and fifty seven cents on Amazon.

Brockway: I could buy half a scalped Playstation 5, or I could buy In Search of Mom twice. This is why we’re never allowed to get more successful than we are. If you gave me a real budget, I would have to explain a $1500 IN SEARCH OF MOM write-off to an auditor quickly running out of pity.

Seanbaby: Oh, dude. I already bought us each a copy.

Brockway: Look closely. See the little green boot by Bodhi’s gun? We’re looking at tasteful blocking here. Tivia is definitely getting powerful head from Pile of Shit in a Hardhat.

Seanbaby: Now I feel like I need to go back and see if I can spot any possible sex stuff we missed in the last Photon cover.

Brockway: Again, this is just good tie-in practice. Much like a real darkened 1982 laser tag arena, people are jerking off in every secret corner of a Photon book.

Brockway: Say what you will about Photon’s dorky, awkward laser tag gear, it sure does lift and separate titties.

Seanbaby: “Yes, yes, I understand your Photon sensor harness is uncomfortable, ma’am. These toys were designed for seven-year-olds. All I’m authorized to offer you is a coupon for a chicken strip appetizer with the purchase of a full entree and this: your tits do look great. Like a full two feet apart, ma’am.”

Brockway: I like my tits like I like my women: Bright orange and painfully distant.

Seanbaby: The title SKIN DEEP is more menacing when you realize Zxorgaxian skin is famously 11 inches thick.

Brockway: This is like that Men in Black test. Exposing our own xenophobia by seeing if we perceive a threat just because the creature looks alien to us. I know a four-armed snuggle when I see one. And god knows I’ve seen it enough times at the roller derby to recognize ā€œnaked lust barely concealed by clunky safety helmet.ā€

Seanbaby: This is why you’re going to die filled with Zxorgaxian skin eggs.

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PODCASTING DAY

Podcasting Day: People Who Became the Best Parodies of Themselves🌭

Today, in the Dogg Zzone 9000 Podcast, we are joined by our dear friend Jason Pargin, author of Zoey Punches the Future in the Dick. We talk about what happens after a celebrity loses control of their schtick. At what point does a person become a parody of themself? Do they know? Do they care? Who do we blame for Steven Seagal, shown here after you Google his name with the word carrot?

We discuss the rise, fall, fall, fall, fall, and incredible financial success of Dennis Miller– the first and only comedian to be exiled from Twitter for being bad at tweeting after he typed this:

How can that Tweet be? How can our mothers live on a world that allowed it? We do our best to figure it out and Jason and Brockway face off in a Seanbaby’s Book Gameā„¢ where they listen to real Dennis Miller quotes and guess if Sean actually made them up. “THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE,” said participant Jason Pargin!

And speaking of face offs and the impossible, in our bonus episode we talk about the fun version of celebrity self-parody gone out of control: Nicolas Cage. Patrons can listen to it in our Discord, and as you do so, here is the behind-the-scenes shot of John Travolta and Nicolas Cage saying crazy shit to each other during Face/Off. And here is Nicolas Cage when you Google his name with the word jacket:

And, of course, here is Nicolas Cage with all of the patches replaced with Steven Seagal eating a carrot:

Enjoy the podcast! Subscribe! Leave a review! Eat a carrot!