Dear Adult Swim #1,

Thursday, 20 April 2006

No one has any interest whatsoever in seeing either Elizabeth Berkley or Tiffani Thiessen with clothes on. No one. Not even heterosexual women. I personally have even less interest in seeing any of Dustin Diamond, Mario López, or even Mark-Paul Gosselaar outside the pages of The Smoking Gun or next year’s hot new HBO title, Celebrity Autopsies.

What the fuck is the matter with you guys? You used to have dignity. Savoir-faire. Your stupidity was affected, it wasn’t genuine. It was cool. You could watch an hour of Space Ghost Coast to Coast without needing to get high.

Was The Herculoids prohibitively priced? Was Snyder holding out for more money to re-syndicate Dr. Katz?

Does it actually cost more than $50 and take more than 2 hours to produce an episode of 12 Oz Mouse or Tom Goes to the Mayor?

And another thing: program directors are not editors. Editors edit things—rejecting or correcting that which isn’t up to scratch. Program directors sort through whatever pile of tapes their budget bequeaths in a frantic bid to keep their jobs for another six months. Good news everyone: UPN is looking for interns.

Happy Hitler Day indeed.

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