Things That Aren’t That Bad—Another Installment in an Admittedly Erratic Series Dedicated to Life’s Little Pleasures

The careful reader of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” may realize that our “posts” are often rather gloomy. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” whine, bitch, and carry on about some noxious irritant or other, and then we call it a day.

To be sure, there’s much about the contemporary world to get one’s dander up. To take a recent example, members of the mainstream media pronounced themselves astounded that recent pro-illegal immigrant rallies in Los Angeles were so filled with people. They find this astounding? Who the heck didn’t know that there are lots of illegal immigrants in California?

But enough of our caterwauling. In today’s humble “post,” we aim to put on a bit of a happy face. We hope to remind our reader(s) of one of the delightful pleasures that makes the modern world such a pleasure. It’s one of those things that compels you momentarily to forget that your drab, wretched life is dedicated to paying taxes and awaiting death.

Well, now that we’ve cheered you up a bit, we can get on with the “post.” Perhaps, dear reader, you are familiar with a television program on the Comedy Central network called “Distraction.”

In reality, this program—like so much else on the boob tube—is mercilessly inane. A creepy looking British comedian with an odd taste in fashion plays the part of host on the program, which is a game show for the type of people who consider “Press Your Luck” a tad too cerebral.

Honestly, the contestants on “Distraction” are asked questions so ridiculously stupid that Jessica Simpson could probably answer them. To make matters worse, contestants are forced to endure various indignities throughout the course of the game—snakes in their trousers, nudists rubbing up against them, and so forth—in order to make things harder for them. This, the show’s producers must think, makes the program really magical; in reality, it makes it even dumber.

So why, you may reasonably ask yourself, do we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” enjoy “Distraction”? Why would we vouch for the quality of this idiotic program?

The answer, dear reader, is actually quite simple: Pretty women getting smacked in the face with pies.

You see, in one oft-repeated installment of the game, the contestants get nailed with all manner of messy things—cream pies, honey, mustard, rice—upon ringing their buzzers. And when a cute chick gets slammed in the face with such stuff, it’s a real delight. As they might say in a commercial for horrid beer, life just doesn’t get any better than this.

Mind you, dear reader, this only soothes the soul when a really hot chick gets nailed; no one cares about lame guys or some chubby lady.

Why, you ask? Well, that depends upon which members of the crack young staff you ask. As far as the guys on staff are concerned, nothing beats the humiliation of an uppity gal who would never date you. For the gals, watching someone prettier than you make an ass of herself on television is among the most satisfying pleasures in the world.

As a result, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” strongly suggest that the producers of the feculent program “Distraction” drop the whole game show business, and concentrate on a half-hour of slamming hot broads in the face with all kinds of grotesqueries. We could watch that stuff all day.