Once in a lifetime, an event comes along that shakes a generation to its foundation. An event that begs us to mark all events as happening either before or after said event. An event that makes us question, rethink, and re-evaluate exactly how much we as a species can truly achieve. An event that makes us say, “My God, we’ve only begun to tap our potential as a race.”
And then there are events such as “The Nick and Jessica Variety Hour”.
This special has been better advertised than “Kill Bill Volume 2”, and if there’s a lesson in there, I don’t want to know it. The cultural apocalypse had been announced, and I had to be there to see it lay waste to Western civilization as we know it. I watch these things so you don’t have to, people.
I’ve broken down the MTV Video Music Awards, I’ve overanalyzed the Grammys, and well, now it’s time to lay close cultural scrutiny to Mr. And Mrs. Jessica. I armed myself with a pen, notebook, bottle of Diet Coke, and a bottle of rum. Figured the only way to get through this Hour of Pain was to drink every time something really terrible happened, and let’s just say I hate the Blue Laws here in Massachusetts for having liquor stores closed, forbidding me from replenishing my supplies. If the CIA were wise, they’d have this special on tape and play it to Saddam Hussein. He’d break before the first commercial.
On with the review, before I go all “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” and have it erased from my memory…
8:58 pm: OK, I’ve poured my first drink. Know how you go to a bar, get a drink, check the opacity, and say to yourself, “There’s no way this drink can end well"? Yea, that’s my drink. I think I’m gonna need it.
9:00 pm: The Gospel of Nick and Jessica: “And the Lord said, on the 3rd day, let the curtain be raised, and let them be in matching turquoise outfits, and let the jokes about potential ‘wardrobe malfunctions’ flow from Ryan’s lips before they have spoken a word.”
9:01 pm: We’re officially underway, using “One” from “A Chorus Line”. I’m transfixed at how both of them are in competition to show off more cleavage.
9:02 pm: Not sure if I want a payoff to all the pole-vaulting references, or if I want to keep drinking and hope they go away.
9:03 pm: We’ve segued into “Age of Aquarius” from “Hair”, as this show is rapidly descending into an all-out assault against musical theatre. Notice how they aren’t doing any Disney-themed shows, eh?
9:04 pm: Cue Jewel, stage right. Guess those royalties checks from Gillette didn’t cover the bills, did they? Your “Intuition” stinks as bad as this medley.
9:06 pm: First comedy sketch. I call it a “comedy sketch” since they were clearly going for comedy, but the laughter is as canned as the ham Jessica appears to be trying to squeeze from her ass every time she sings. Holy Mary Mother of God. My liver’s in a world of trouble. Like Han Solo, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.
9:08 pm: Mr. T just sang Jessica’s song, “With You”. Well, I can check that off my list of “Things I Never Needed to See Before I Died”.
9:11 pm: OK, Jewel’s back, to sing “Who Will Save Your Soul?” with Jessica. You know, I wanna find the interview she did about three years ago where she dismissed this song, saying she’d never play it again, just so I can throw it in her broke self right now. I didn’t know it was possible to give Alaskan yodelers a worse name than “Alaskan yodelers”, and yet she does it with such ease.
9:13 pm: I’ve been slightly transfixed for the past 120 seconds. I coulda sworn Jessica was mocking Jewel and the song, but no, that’s how she really performs. It’s a touch like watching someone completely bomb at your high school talent show, with that person completely unaware how bad they are.
9:14 pm: Jessica just opened up her mouth so wide that I thought she was gonna swallow Jewel whole, burp, say, “Jewel taste yummy!”, turn into a demon, and then go on a killing spree. I want my mommy. And more rum.
9:16 pm: The answer, Jewel, to your song’s title is, “No one…Jessica owns your soul. Thanks for dealing the final blow to Lilith Fair Nation. Yodeling hussy.”
9:18 pm: Boldly showing he’s not the chump of this power duo, Nick gets his duet…with K.I.T.T. Yes, the freakin’ car from “Knight Rider”. These jokes write themselves, people.
9:19 pm: They couldn’t even get the real voice of K.I.T.T. Cheap! Unless the guy who originally did the voice got mauled by a bear, in which case I’d feel bad. But I can’t even really worry about that, because K.I.T.T. and Nick are singing “Just the Two of Us”. OK, who slipped the roofies in my drink? What on EARTH is going on?
9:20 pm: I’m watching Nick, and really, I wonder if this guy has a) absolutely no shame/fear, b) absolutely no self-esteem, or c) absolutely the largest phallus in the Western Hemisphere? One of these three reasons explains why he does the things he does. Let’s get 20/20 on this issue, pronto.
9:21 pm: Hey, a commercial break. Time to fill the glass up again. Hey, a commercial for “13 Going on 30”, a movie about a 13-year old girl, scored to “Dancing with Myself”, a song about masturbation. Since when did R. Kelly start making advertisements?
9:22 pm: Hey, high five for synergy: Disney owns ABC, and Disney insists on a Mickey Mouse Club sketch. I hope this sketch isn’t, say, scored to “I Touch Myself” by The Divinyls or I may have to leap to my death.
9:23 pm: Jess is trash talking younger versions of Britney, Xtina, and Justin. This is probably the closest she’ll ever come to actually talking to these three people.
9:25 pm: I’d report on the rest of the sketch, but I hit myself in the head with a hammer to temporarily knock myself out.
9:26 pm: We’re on costume change #45. I wonder how long this took to tape. The over/under in Vegas is “177 days”.
9:27 pm: Can we call a spade a spade and just rename the show “Jessica’s Variety of Cleavage Shots”? If George Bush wanted to look for weapons of mass destruction, all he had to do was watch this show.
9:28 pm: Let’s all just pretend that “10 Seconds of Awkwardness with Mr. T” never, ever, ever happened. We’ll all be better off that way.
9:28 pm: Oh Sweet Jesus, they are gonna do impressions? Screw the mixers, we’re moving on to shots.
9:29 pm: Say what you will about cryogenic freezing, but my man Kenny Rogers proves it can work. OK, fine, YOU tell me where he’s been since 1987! He’s either been frozen or in possession of the Ring of Power. One Rogers to Rule Them All.
9:30 pm: In case you forgot in the last 3 minutes that Jessica Simpson will give herself black eyes when jogging, they dress her up as Dolly Parton. She amply fills the part. Look, it’s good to know that she can cure 3rd world famine by breast-feeding them all, but honestly, enough’s enough.
9:31 pm: It says something that Kenny Rogers looks like he wishes he could be doing something better at the moment that singing with her. Like, be at the opening of a new Roy Rogers or something. Weak. Back in the chamber with you, Kenny.
9:34 pm: Because we haven’t hit enough 70’s icons yet, let’s bring out the Muppets. Yea, sure. We like the Muppets. And um, OK. And uh, oh bloody hell...*gulps a bottle of lighter fluid*
9:36 pm: Ok, the lighter fluid was a bad idea, because they’ve hit me with a skit called “Nick Leshave”. As in, Nick will come to your house and shave your face. Um. Uh. Hrm. I’m gonna pull a note from the Television Without Pity reviews of “Smallville” and officially dub this the “Gayest Sketch of the Episode”.
9:37 pm: Finally, what’s been nagging me all up erupts to the surface: Nick is simply a poor man’s version of Kyan from “Queer Eye”. That says many things, most of which I’d rather not fully explicate lest I pull an self-immolating version of Alan Strang and blind myself with a spike. (Sorry, “Equus” reference. Had to be done. Won’t happen again.)
9:38 pm: Hey, it’s Johnny Bench. Like the Bud Dry ads said, “Why ask why?” Which was always a great ad, in my mind. Even they were saying, “Yea, we have no clue what this drink is and why you’d wanna buy it. Could you do us a favor and pretty please buy it? C’mon, I have a wife and kids to feed.” I mention all this mostly because it’s freakin’ Johnny Bench on “The Nick and Jessica Variety Hour” and the less actually said about that, the better.
9:40 pm: It takes quite a show to take “10 girls dancing in schoolgirl outfits” and have it not arouse me in the least. So Mazel Tov, “The Nick and Jessica Variety Hour”. You’ve done it splendidly. So much for that fetish.
9:45 pm: Watching Jessica sing “Take My Breath Away” is a bit like watching Max Headroom, if Max were blonde, busty, and standing in front of several wind machines. Her movements are so jerky that she seems like a less fluid agent from “The Matrix”. And yes, I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: she looks like she’s trying to pass a canned ham out of her rectum when she sings.
9:47 pm: She’s officially the anti-Britney. See, I don’t mind so much listening to Jessica on the radio, vocal-wise, but I really, really can’t stand to watch her on television. And Britney, well, the complete opposite is true. I wonder if Nick has a “girl who looks like she’s constipated” fetish. It’s the only explanation.
9:53 pm: Oh great. They are doing slide shows of old photos. Hey, it’s Nick selling his soul in 1983. Hey, it’s Jessica getting her first push-up bra at her 6th birthday party. Hey, it’s me drinking arsenic to escape this program.
9:54 pm: They’re singing “I Got You, Babe (Until MTV Doesn’t Pick Up the Third Season of Newlyweds, in Which Case I Won’t Have You Anymore Since It Won’t Make Fiscal Sense)”.
9:56 pm: Psst, Nick. C’mhere. Yea, I know the show’s almost over. This won’t take long. This is Scott Foley. Scott, Nick. Nick, Scott’s gonna tell you how this story’s gonna end…
9:58 pm: Credits roll. “Producers: Joe Gallen and Joe Simpson”. You now know who to kill, America. Your task is laid before you. Make me proud.
***
Whew. Well, that wasn’t as long as a typical awards show. It only felt that way. Let it never be said I don’t make sacrifices for all of you.
Now I’ve you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a complete blood transfusion and go to bed.