“Why are you wasting your time?”. . . “What in God’s name is wrong with you?” . . . “You disgust me to no end,” and “Please move your things out of my basement and leave my house by tomorrow morning,” are just a few of the remarks you’d assume someone who writes for a website called Adventures in Poor Taste to hear on a daily basis from his loved ones. And you’d be absolutely right in those assumptions.
But whether your strait-laced loved ones want to admit it or not, wasting time will always be a necessary evil. Hell, everyone needs a break now and then; to keep one’s sanity amidst the stress of the work week or to merely satisfy life’s curiosities. This internet thingamabob has made wasting time easier than ever, with a surfeit of information and stimuli perpetually and literally a finger waggle away. Although greater access to knowledge means higher expectations placed on productivity, there will always be a need for the pointless and irrelevant. And that’s where we step in. If Adventures in Poor Taste were a college and “wasting time” a major, we’d have graduated summa cum laude and had several campus libraries named in our honor. Hell, I’d be some bespectacled and highly coveted professor lecturing on the daily about the most effective and pleasurable time wasting activities while lascivious, doe-eyed school girls wearing plaid mini-skirts and their hair in pigtails stayed late after class, contorting all over my desk with an apple strategically saddled amidst their loins for just the slightest chance to partake in my vast wisdom.
“Professor Whiting, please tell us how you spent that entire day just sitting around in your boxers writing articles for a website no one will ever see again? Pretty please?”
So it should come as no surprise then that the Dean of Dawdling himself, our very own Patrick Ross, stumbled upon an internet forum that epitomizes the phrase “waste of time,” and decided to share it in all its splendor with me. The site specialized in antiquated sitcoms from the days of yore; a derelict website that seemed to have gone defunct sometime around 2006. One message board in particular caught our attention; one devoted entirely to the popular late 80s-mid 90s sitcom Full House. By the way, Pat didn’t want me to divulge the name of the site for fear that such knowledge in the wrong hands could be devastating, but he did say that they were quite Crazy About TV! (.com).
There could be no name more fitting. That is, when you say the participants of this Full House message board are crazy about television, there is not one iota of hyperbole being used in that statement. These people aren’t just crazy about TV the way your little sister is “crazy” about cupcakes and ice cream or even the way your uncle Fred is “crazy” about dressing up in women’s undergarments when no one is around. These people are literally mentally imbalanced when it comes to talking about Full House. Take our good friend krukowski here for instance:
krukowski: Full House is funny. Joey and Jesse change Michelle’s diaper. They give her medicine. Danny likes to clean. He sweeps and vacuums. DJ and Stephanie grab the cereal box. They put the hole on the wall. The museum is funny. The dinosaur bones were not toys. I like Full House.
Am I the only one who read that in a Borat voice the entire time? This krukowski character may in fact be a hidden gem; a visionary comic genius decades ahead of his time and the inspiration for the Borat character a full ten years before the mockumentary ever hit theaters to boot. Or upon further inspection, more likely just an eight year old kid with a Polish sounding last name that really derives pleasure from watching Full House and doesn’t deserve to be ridiculed in any way, shape, or form. Oops, sorry kiddo. But these articles don’t write themselves.
So krukowski is either just starting to learn the English language or a misunderstood poet expressing his undying love for the Tanner family through Haiku, though not necessarily crazy. But what about the following deranged individuals who actually address the Full House actors by their characters’ names? As if they really believe that Uncle Jesse, Joey Gladstone, and Danny Tanner, after a long day of writing songs for the Rippers, watching Rocky and Bullwinkle reruns, and rehearsing lines for “Wake Up, San Francisco,” are going to hunker down in front of the computer screen and answer the pleas of complete strangers that can somehow observe every moment of their waking and nonwaking lives? As if the message board is some strange medium through which they invoke the reality altering genies that are Uncle Jesse and Joey Gladstone? Disclaimer: The following excerpts are copied exactly as they appeared in the original message board posts, spelling and all:
kenia trejo: I think joey is really funny :D. I wish I could meat you guys . I fell in luv with jesse. sorry :\ becky but you have a cute man I love you guys. good luck with the show 😉
baby girl: hii you guys. 😀 am a cute girl saying hii I luv you guys XD bye 😉
Cindy: I really wish that i could meet you guys !!!!well good luck withyur life!! 😀
Alright, so kenia trejo, the cleverly named baby girl, and Cindy are a bunch of f-----g idiots. Or maybe this enigmatic trio is the real reason behind the site’s closure all those years ago. Perhaps in posting they accidentally unlocked some surreal dream dimension or Bizarro World where the lines of reality are blurred; where every D.J. tear is real, where Danny Tanner’s incessant cleaning actually leaves the household unsoiled, where every disparaging and snide remark towards Kimmy Gibbler stings palpably.
Imagine this world of marvel and wonder; a world where, sure, hardships and misfortunes and hazards exist, but can always be ameliorated with a hearty hug and a moral lecture from Danny Tanner. A world where you could watch Jesse and the Rippers tear it up on stage; where Joey Gladstone is the funniest man alive; where race and skin color are irrelevant, religious beliefs are universally honored and social and financial statuses don’t matter; where the collective differences of the earth’s population are always solved by the scrolling of end credits. A veritable utopia.
Yeah right. Instead, that world would probably end up more like this (With people making detailed floor plans of the Tanner household so they can “just make sure Michelle is saying her Hail Marys before bed, is that such a crime?”):
“So Danny, mind telling me where that Unknown Hallway leads? Or do I have to come find out for myself?”
“I’d just like to take a moment to thank my little munchkin Michelle, and all the good people at ‘Wake Up, San Francisco'”
“Whatever happened to predictability?”
Or even this:
Dear Uncle Hermes, Jesse, whatever you are calling yourself these days,
If every word I wrote, could make you hard, I’d write forever. Lol. Just kidding man! Unless you don’t want me to be. That’s enough small talk for now, though. There’s just one inscrutable element about you that’s been tormenting me as of late: How the heck do you get your hair to stay like that? So darkly glossed and lubricious looking? I’ve tried everything. Last night while… stroking myself to your sizzling hot video “I’d Laugh Forever,” I used the superfluous love juice which had overflowed from my clenched fists and into my palms and applied it to my eager and awaiting mane as a sort of makeshift man-mousse. Let me tell you, by carefully daubing those cream colored love smatterings throughout I was able to achieve a sort of breathtaking windswept look. Of course it wasn’t quite the same…no, not even close to your luxuriant locks.
It’s the last obstacle in my dream of looking more like you. Well, exactly like you really. Rofl, now before you label me as some kind of weirdo, it’s not like I’m breaking into your house so that I can murder you to create a bodysuit comprised from the knife carved skinpatches. (I’ve already had so many surgical alterations that such a notion would never be necessary. And I’d never bring harm to you like those Phantom of the Opera-esque weirdos out there, Lol). I even went and snatched some of the errant hairs you left on your pillow last night back to my house for further analysis. Believe me, that took a lot of work. LO freaking L. Danny is a good cleaner, Jesse. But not that good. LOL, well hit me back man. I’ll be waiting. Forever.
Are you the actual author of the message board posts featured and want to explain yourself? Have a letter you’ve written to a fictitious character that you, for some strange reason, want to share with us? Send me a line over at firstname.lastname@example.org.