Mike Sinkovich Tells You How It Is

Late Night Cable Will Steal Your Soul

Hey kids, ever look up at the sky at night and consider the huge, theoretically infinite space that surrounds our tiny insignificant planet as it spins on its imminently destructive orbit of a giant thermal time bomb? Feel confused or scared as to what the fuck is going on? Wish you could talk to some supreme being who will solve all your questions with worryingly vague answers as "Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation: the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak" ? Well fear not my fuckpuppies, God TV is here!

That's right, the motherfucker has his own motherfucking channel. Switch to cable 279 for all your god-fearing needs and requirements. Want to know why your crops aren't growing this year? It's because you haven't given enough fucking money to godtv.com you schmuck, give them more money and god will be happy. I know, I know, you have two major questions here:

1) If money is the root of all evil, why does god want my money?

2) If god wants money, and he created man, the universe, and everything, ever, why doesn't he just make some more money for himself?

Well just stop thinking you inquisitive fuck, give them your money, god is going to seriously fuck you up if you don't give him your money. Look at the guy on the screen, he's a reputable voice for all omnipresent supreme beings, and he's telling you how it is. Don't be concerned by the his questionable hair piece, the banks of disreputable phone operators, the basic psychological manipulation of the human condition in order to prise your hard earned money from your fingers in order to perpetuate the disgustingly rich lifestyles of the heads of one of the largest organised religions on the planet. Just shut up and give them your fucking money you godless bastard. I don't think you understand what's going on here, god, right, who technically owns you, is going to send you to hell if you don't do this. You will suffer forever if you don't....

...hey there's tits on bravo, fucking sweet.

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I just phoned God TV on 0870 60 70 445 to make a pledge, and I swear to the big motherfucker in the sky himself this is the conversation I had:

Operator: Hello God TV may I take your pledge?

Mike: Yes hello, I'd like to pledge my soul.

Operator:...your....

Mike: Yes my soul, I'd like to pledge my soul to god, this is God TV right?

Operator: Yes this is God TV...

Mike: Yes, I want to pledge my soul to god.

Operator:.....I can only take pound sterling pledges sir.

Mike: Sorry, I'm a little confused, I just want to pledge my sould to god.

Operator: I can only take pound sterling pledges sir.

Mike: But if god wants money, surely my soul is worth more than any amount of money, or are you saying my soul is worth a finite sum of money?

Operator:......sir?

Mike: I mean, how much money do you want for my soul?

Operator: I can only take pound sterling pledges sir.

Mike: How much could I get for my soul then?

Operator: I don't know.

Mike: What's the current rate for a well used, and maybe slightly abused soul, I have taken the lords name in vein a couple of times, I have to admit.

Operator: I don't know.

Mike: Okay, well, I'm gunna go find out how much I can get for my sould in pound sterling and pledge that, would that be okay, do you reckon god would like that?

Operator: That's fine sir.

Mike: Okay, well, I'll be back in a minute.

 

Contains Mongolian Goat Jizz, It Might Make You Fly, Buy It

TV is a remarkable invention, the intricate sub-atomic level of detail of the whole thing should be enough for everyone to denounce any god they fear and declare science as the true force to be terrified of.

But in a similar way to the idea of god, television was conceived and ever since certain groups have taken it upon themselves to use and abuse the power it yields across the planet. I'm not saying television corporations are the same as organised religion. They're far fucking worse than the groups that dispense complex, contradictory rules to follow just in case there really is a giant superior being who has nothing better to do than note that you didn't tell the clerk he gave you too much change and devise horrific punishments to last an eternity.

At least some real imagination went into it, they wrote a fucking book on god (huge glaring inconsistencies and the occasional un-documented number of decades aside) which just shows you how much time went into the whole deal. And I guess there's the whole "religion helps people deal with life" which is fine by me, whatever gets you through the day buddy, but I'll be going down the booze and porn path if that's all the same. It's easier, your Sundays are free and besides there are worse things going on in the world than a pissed-up skinny white boy beating off a half mast and shouting at the "models". I truly doubt any god would care.

It's not that advertisements were ever the gospel truth (a confusing phrase) but they used to try a lot harder as I seem to remember. Gone are the days we see in stock footage of 1950's housewives with cracked smiles, blatantly buzzing on a huge amphetamine high while telling the public why this particular corned beef "keeps little Jimmy just spiff-spaff-spiffing" (my knowledge of 50's slang isn't too great).
No not anymore, even humour has been reduced to the smallest fraction of adverts we are subjected to every fucking second of the day. We have the idiots from the "you've been tango-ed" fiasco who ran around slamming their hands over everyones head to thank for that. I never saw anyone laugh after having that done to them....

WHACK
"Hahaha you've been TANGOWD!"
"Hahahaha, nice one Dave, I can't hear a fucking thing but I assume you shouted the Tango line? Hah of course you did. I have to sit down for a little bit now Dave, I can only see in black and white."

...all it took was four kids and a baby to lose 20% of their vision and a little bit of brain activity and it was decided that everyone would be safer if the big orange man kissed everyone. Thank you government, now I have face herpes but I'm so much safer.

Now we have entered the era of complete, fictitious, bullshit adverts that make spurious comments while dancing round the paper thin law between "false advertising" and "we're not claiming but it might kinda, probably will but there's no promises". There's so many adverts that have just made shit up to make it sound like they have banks of scientists in a lab huddled round an electron microscope muttering...

"Fuck me, we've done it, we've isolated it....in a pure form....it's more beautiful than I ever imagined....gentlemen I give you...vitamin.....Q10!!"

....no fuck off, you made it up for shitsake. You can't just take something you mixed and make up scientific sounding names for it to make it sound impressive, no matter how many cellular diagrams you show me of a follicle cell repairing itself and upgrading to a "fuck me now" standard.

Biffidus Digestivum, you can fuck off with that too. Mankind has been studying bacteria for centuries and no-one has ever come up with a classification so fucking idiotic as "digestivum", you can just hear the marketing meeting as they cackle with delight over their new addition to their tiny pots of redundant bull semen. We can't blind them with science because there is none, fuck it, let's make this shit up, no-one will know.

Truly amazing is the "whole wheat COULD give you a healthy heart" well punch me in the balls if that isn't the most specific statement I've ever heard as a hook to sell me something. Apparently people with healthy hearts tend to eat more whole wheat.
Let's look at that in a bit more detail..."tend" to eat more whole wheat. So your research, no matter how hard you fiddled the figures, didn't provide a clear statistical correlation. If it did it would say "80% of people who eat whole wheat have healthier hearts, and get laid more than you". So there goes the tiny tenuous piece of science they're clinging onto.

But hey fuck it, slam it on a box and scare the shit out of everyone who didn't have their recommended portions of fruit and veg for the week, at any point in their life, and get them to run screaming into waitrose to buy every piece of whole wheat they can get their cold, blue, cholesterol-choked hands on. I got news for you wheat boy, you're as dead as me or anyone else on this planet. Why don't you try to spend some of your time eating something that tastes nice.

Well as long as we're playing that game, sucking my cock might reduce your chances of breast cancer to 0%. Please please ladies, form an orderly line. Actually, sod it, first come first serve. Get it? Yeah? Oh fine, I thought it was funny.

I Give Up On Documentaries

I don't mind the usual nature documentaries, there's always a good laugh to be had from watching something eat something, or hump something. Sometimes, if it's a really good one, something small and furry in its first few seconds of life will get it's shit totally ruined by something one hundred times its size.

I laughed for half an hour the first time I saw those killer whales smacking that dead seal back and forth as its siblings watched in horror from the coast. I love killer whales, I hope I come back as one.

What is truly, mind bendingly irritating is sitting down to watch a social documentary with a highly intriguing title like "The Man Who's Head Shot Off To Mars...", after seeing weeks of tantalising four second trailers of fuzzy-focused camera shots while short soundbites of rednecks are played over the top, saying things like...

"His heyad.....it jus'....laak flew awf....laak..."

and

"I jus remembar screaman....'Jim-Baab,Jim-Baab'...but his heyad was jus'...gawn"

...I mean, holy fuck there is no way I am missing that. The guy's head flew off to Mars, and there's people talking about it happening, that sounds awesome. If we get lucky, there will be some amateur camera footage.
But somehow it'll end up being about some guy who ate some dodgy shrimps, tripped out, put his head in his t-shirt and staggered around outside screaming about the sneezepuppies and how they had show him the way to Wallmart. Disappointed. Channel 4, you owe me a video of one random decapitation, with interstellar projection of the detached appendage.

Case in point. I just watched a documentary entitled "The Man Who Slept For Twenty Years". The trailers described a man who went into a coma in 1984, and woke up 19 years later. That's pretty specific, I don't see how they could wangle their way out of that one. Coma, 19 years, wakes up. Okay I'm interested.

With visions of some guy running around New York, dressed in a shell suit, clutching a copy of Hit Factory while grabbing commuters and screaming "What year is this?!! Who's the president?!! Arrrrrrhhhh!!" I sat down to watch some hardcore TV.

While the story was about a guy who was in a 19 year coma then woke up, the poor bastard had destroyed his frontal lobes in the car accident that precipitated the coma. Even though it gave a fascinating insight into what happens when your brain is smashed around like an egg in a biscuit tin, the disturbing scenes I imagined of someone coming to terms with losing twenty years of their life  were nowhere to be seen, since his short term memory was destroyed, the effort of coming to terms with facts like his daughter now being the same age as him when she was conceived, then forgetting them the next day, seemed pretty futile.

Tricking me into watching something is bad enough, but the people who put these things together seem to have written the commentary on the back of a napkin. As the story unfolds, the same facts are re-hashed and told to you over, and over, and over again so that when a new piece of information comes in that completely changes the situation as you understand it, it's time for the adverts. These are beautifully crafted to make you watch the ensuing hour of crap you are told you need, just to see the outcome...

"Jim Bob's head was inside his t-shirt...but knowing little about the static properties of polyester...the worst was to come..."

...Oh man, his head is going to explode, or he'll charge himself up so much he'll discharge through his trailer home killing everyone in a hundred meter radius, man I can't fucking wait.

Upon returning, the narrator will lead you through every fact you listened to over the past fifteen minutes as you anxiously wait for the horrible tragedy to be unveiled. But no, with a feeling of betrayal similar to a child who was duped into thinking their rubella jab would make them invincible, you are told that the static charge made him feel queasy and induced violent vomiting which expelled the shrimp from his colon.

Fuck.

So I give up, I'm sticking to documentaries that do exactly what they say on the tin. 'Sex in the 70's', a highly informative piece of film depicting the slow evolution of adult films over the decade. I'm guessing there will be breasts involved with some spurious commentary over the top, just to remove that ridiculous thought that this is just an excuse to put tits on late at night, and provide any horny teenagers spaffing one out an excellent get-out should his mam come in to see what the slapping noise was all about.

Hey look I was right, waddaya know.

Kids TV: The Lame Future

Kids are becoming more and more lame. Be it through the ever expanding nanny state that wants to ban conkers due to "health and safety" reasons, or the sudden increase in over-protective parents who bleach anything that comes near their baby then wonder why they grow up to be allergic to oxygen. Tough break kid, maybe if you were toughened up a bit when you were younger, or you were allowed to find out why it's a bad idea to try and jump off the climbing frame blindfolded, you wouldn't be the pasty-ass giant wussy you are today.

The main cause? Kids TV shows. You can't help but notice how lame these shows are compared to the hardcore shit that used to be around. But don't take my word for it (although you should really), here's some comparisons for you to consider...

 

VERSUS

Well for starters, puppets fucking rock. Compared to the schmaltzy animation used in Bob-everythingisgreat-The Builder, Fraggle has a badass gritty feel to the whole thing that creates the healthy feeling that maybe things aren't as great as they seem. They live underground in fear of the massive-evil bastards outside that will eat them for fuck sake. You get the impression that at any minute one of the fraggles is going to flip out and start screaming "I can't take it anymore, this fucking cave, man, I can't handle this shit man, we're all fucking dead.Game over man, game fucking over!". But they keep singing bad-ass tunes anyway.

Meanwhile Bob and his "can we fix it, yes we can" is disgustingly optimistic, filling the kids with the ill-founded opinion that everything will be okay. No-one ever has a near death experience, and everyone carries on pottering about, never wondering what will happen when Bob gets too old to fix everyones shit anymore.

Plus the doozers are infuckingcredible, there are millions of them, they build all the goddamn time, and they join in with the hardcore tunes that are smashed out throughout the whole doomed ordeal. Doozers could out-build anything Bob could ever think about building, and in half the time.

 

VERSUS 

Just look at the cover art. Tracy Beaker, "oooh I'm an orphan, so sad and angry, watch my touching tale of my hard life in the world as I come to grips with..." oh shuttup you whiny self-indulgent craptart. Jayce has to escape from the garden of evil. A garden of goddamn evil, can you imagine how hardcore he has to be to do that as a kid? You never saw Jayce sit around, pissing about the trials and pitfalls of the foster-parent system did you? No, he got a car with a goddamn grappling arm on it and set off across the universe, ruining peoples shit so he could find his dad. I suggest you take a leaf out of Jayce's book Beaker. And learn to drive for a start, you fucking timewaster.

VERSUS
Now I know there's not a direct link between these two but Mona the Vampire is the closest kids TV comes to a horror-based cartoon these days, which just serves to prove my point further.
Mona is a kid with a vivid imagination, in which she sees herself as a vampire. Sounds cool at first but she never attacks anyone in order to feed. Watching an 8 year old vampire launch herself screaming from the shadows onto an OAP's throat, tearing and ripping at the paper-thin skin to reveal the crimson flow of blood she desires would rock hard. Instead she "solves mysteries" that don't even fucking exist, because she imagines them. She is a disgrace to vampires.

Bert, however, lives in a nightmare dimension in a fucking dungeon. His only friend is a talking skull, which is possibly the coolest thing ever since it dispenses sarcastic comments in public-school teacher tones at Bert, just as the shit has hit the fan. The tension is two fold as Bert has to keep the giant evil bastard upstairs happy, while keeping the evil from coming up through the trapdoor. You would have thought Bert could deal with most things evil, since he lives in a dungeon, but imagine how fucked up the things that are kept below the dungeon are if Bert is scared of them. Even the title sequence is terrifying, "don't you open that trap dooooooor!". Christ man, no bloody way am I opening that trap door, no need to worry about that.

Kids are pussies.

We Ran Out Of Good Ideas So Let's All Remember When Things Were Good

"Dumbing down" is a great phrase, and is used across the media as an acceptable term for "everyone is getting stupid because we dropped standards so low, even adults are reading Harry Potter, so we made everything shit to stop people feeling like the retards they are".

They stooped to new levels of stunning crap with "I'm a celebrity....", kept the drooling masses happy with N series of "Big Brother" and scraped the big-barrel-o-shit-ideas with real gems like "Britain's Worst Celebrity Driver" (which, to my disappointment, did not feature ego-filled fourth rate talentless fuckfaces being injected with AIDS, put in tiny cars and forced to drive into on-coming traffic). How do they get away with the endless slurry of arse dribble that is spread over every channel?

To keep the burburry masses confused and everyone else happily paying their license fees, every few months we get a "100 Greatest....." series to remind us of how TV, music and comedy (amongst others) were before 'golf studies' became a legitimate academic course *.

These horrible charades of nostalgia make an acid martini look appealing. Every ball-faced hack who even thought about being on TV comes out of the woodwork for these fucking things, just to describe to us 10 second clips of stock footage that are shown shortly after their "hilarious" attempts to re-enact them. They sit in some minimalistic studio and direct their inane, redundant dialogue behind the camera as if they're having a great fucking time with some interviewer and divulge amazing facts that no-one knew....

"Oh god, yeah, yeah top-gun, yeah, the planes (quick 1 second cut from the film of a plane flying) oh and do you remember the sunglasses? God yeah Tom Cruise wearing those sunglasses (quick 1 second cut of Tom Cruise in aviators) yeah HAHAHAHAHAHA"

(camera cuts to another talentless wank stain as last one finds it so funny)

"yeah yeah yeah and he says..(cut to Tom Cruise saying 'bullshit you can be mine')...bullshit you can  be mine!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA"

Oh god just make their brains suddenly and violently run out of their nose, but let them be conscious until the end, please god, please just make them fucking die.

Pissbucket programmes like that were bad enough, but some marketing genius in their dark underground bunker had an idea...

"Hey, I bet these fucktards will phone up and vote on this shite"

And so it was born, not only is this shit here to stay but now whoever "wins" one of these things is now regarded as the penultimate champion of that category. Sun readers everywhere will be walking around shouting "Na na na, John Lennon's 'Imagine' IS the best song of all time innit, it won the vote on 100 greatest songs of all time innit". Oh really? Wow I didn't realise the whole nation voted, I thought it was just idiot puss brains like yourself who actually cared enough to spend money phoning in? Well you win then, I can't argue with that.

Hey since the winners title is set in stone I tell you what I would watch..

"Top 100 celebrities I'd like to see set on fire and put out then set on fire and put out continuously until dead".

BRRR BRRR.....BRRR BRRR....CLICK

"Yeah hi Mike Sinkovich here, I'd like to place a vote for Graham Norton, yeah, yeah, well just make sure he lasts yeah? If he passes out just wake his annoying ass up before you start up again right? I want him to feel this shit. Okay great, thanks, byeee"

NB *Sorry if you "study" this subject, but you are being ripped off. A thousand pounds a year to learn about golf? You kidding? You fell for that? I tell you what, I'm running a discount course at my house called "Breathing Studies". It is recognised worldwide and can be studied at any level. Fees start at a reasonable 800 quid a year. Applications to email above.