"Bye bye comedy."

“Bye-bye comedy.”


Anyone with the misfortune of watching a lot of ESPN lately has been forced to endure a laughless bombardment of corny commercials for an abomination of a new show called Black-ish, and personally my throat’s still sore from vomiting.  ABC’s new soon-to-be cancelled shitcom is not only repetitive, hopelessly unfunny, and about fifteen years past the point of any of the jokes being the least bit original, but the show also appallingly fancies itself as having some kinda edgy social commentary like they’re a goddman Richard Pryor special.

Humorless gap-toothed fatass and show star Anthony Anderson was ruining First Take the other day—a show more than capable of ruining itself—by pontificating about this lame douchefest like it was fuckin Twelve Years A Slave.  You would have thought they were interviewing Sidney Poitier the way the dumbstruck hosts pretended Anderson wasn’t speaking directly from his anus.

This tool shed actually had the nerve to compare his antiquated recycled garbage with the muthafuckin Cosby Show!  At one point Anderson gushed, “Hopefully thirty years from now people will still be talking about Blackish.”  Nigga please, thirty seconds from now people won’t be talking about that slop.

Nelson Mandela of the small screen was jam-packed with hunks of dung trying to pass them off as pearls of wisdom.  When questioned about the meaning of the asinine title of the program Anderson rambled, “My ‘ish’ is differnt than your ‘ish.’  We all have to find our own ‘ish.'”  What the fuck?  Exactly which old white guy in a suit came up with that incoherent drivel?

The idea of some lame-ass watered-down sitcom exploring race is so cliched in 2014.  The show’s not tackling issues, it’s re-hashing dated concepts and poorly executing old jokes.  The Laurence Fishburne character looks and sounds like he came straight off of either a Tyler Perry set or a D.W. Griffith film.  Then again, judging by Fish’s disturbingly identical daughter’s revolting sex tape, I guess he can’t play any worse of a father on TV than he did in real life.  At one point in the nine thousand commercials ESPN has soiled the screen with, the wife on the show is told that since she’s a halfsy, she’s not “really black.”

She witlessly responds, “If I’m not really black would someone please tell my hair and my ass?”

If that’s really funny would someone please tell my eyes and my ears?




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