Tourette’s Week

PAT:

Welcome back. And if you’re just joining us, we’re still on our very first puzzle of Tourette’s Week. I kid you not. All the consonants and vowels have been in place since Monday, and it’s—well, I wanted to say it’s just a matter of reading what’s up there, but just just doesn’t seem to be the case.

VANNA:
Amen to that! Hah!

JOAN:
Whore! Whore! Whore! Whore! SLUT!

PAT:

Heh-heh. There we go again, heh-heh. We can’t seem to get past—what’s it called again, Charlie?

CHARLIE:
It’s called cop-ruh-LAAAAAY-lee-uh, Pat. Coprolalia!

PAT:

By Jove! I think he’s got it. Coprolalia. Good ol’ coprolalia. Okay. So, how’s about it, Justin? We’re around to you again. Think you can just read what’s up there this time? Remember, just read what’s up there.

VANNA:
Please! For the love of almighty God!

JUSTIN:
Okay. Here goes, Pat. All’s ... well ... that ... FUCK ... ends ... well. Shit!

PAT:

Uh ... gee whiz. No, Justin, that’s not quite right once again. Joan? How about it? Feelin’ lucky? Can you just read what’s up there this time? You’ve got a cool eight grand and a fabulous weekend getaway in the Pocono Mountains riding on, as I’ve said so many times, just reading what’s up there. That’s all there is to it, seriously, in all seriousness, that’s all it’s gonna take to win here.

JOAN:
Penis! Fart! Ballsack! Melons!

VANNA:
You BITCH!

PAT:

Easy, Vanna. Heh-heh. Who’da thunk coprolalia could be contagious? And speaking of ‘thunk’—who in the name of all things holy thunk up this theme week? Was it you, Charlie?

CHARLIE:
Not me, Pat! Not in a miiiillll-yun years.

PAT:

Well, a venti raspberry mocha with a double-pump of strychnine for whoever did. All right. Let’s take a slightly different tack with Sheila. Sheila, it’s down to you—for what? your twentieth try?—and this time I just want you to repeat after me. Just say each word right after I say it, okay? And don’t say anything else. I repeat: Do not say anything else. Got it? Think you can do that? Heh-heh.

SHEILA:
Yes, Pat, I’m ... ASSWIPE ... pretty sure I ca ... PRICK!

JUSTIN:
Scrotum!

JOAN:
Ballsack! Penis! Fart!

VANNA:
Jesus!

CHARLIE:

Will everybody puuuuuh-LEEZ shut the fuck up! All yours, Pat.

PAT:

Aaannnd thank you, Charlie! Very much. Now, Sheila. Sheila! Over here. Look right here—at me. That’s it. Ready? Okay, say all’s. ...

SHEILA:
All’s ...

PAT:
well ...

SHEILA:
well ...

PAT:
that ...

SHEILA:
that ...

PAT:
ends ...

SHEILA:
ends ...

PAT:
... well.

SHEILA:
... well. BASTARD!

VANNA:
You fucking WHORE!

PAT:

She wins, Charlie, right? She said the whole thing, right? Bastard doesn’t count, right? For the love of Christ—somebody tell me BASTARD doesn’t count!

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© 2009

I have big problems

... with Wheel of Fortune. Problems I'd like to share with you.

First off, the producers are cheapskates. They go out of their way to make sure contestants don't get to take home all that much coin. In support of this thesis I offer the following particulars:

1. Prize placards cover the dollar values on too many of the wheel's wedges. A contestant gets to pluck the placard if he or she calls a letter that's in the puzzle, but receives zero dollars for doing so. A big ouch! when there's like five T's.

2. There are way too many BANKRUPT spins. This not only holds down the cash awards by regularly erasing accumulated sums, but makes contestants leery of trying to spin their way to big bucks. They routinely jump straight to solving for fear of losing even the meager monies amassed to that point.

3. Eighty percent of the time, spinning the bonus wheel at the end of the show yields the bottom-level prize ($25,000 or $30,000 depending on how recent the episode). That's because, even though they make the bonus puzzle ridiculously difficult with off-the-wall solutions like ZINC COATED, the producers urgently want no one to win more than the minimum cash award if humanly possible. Which turns out to be very humanly possible, in most cases, for those relatively rare, uncommonly creative thinkers who can indeed sort out ...

_ _ N _

_ _ATED

... within ten seconds.

Next, the contestants themselves. My main problem with the contestants themselves, apart from the intimidating (and therefore excitement-extinguishing) effect all those BANKRUPT spaces have on them, is that even when they obviously know a puzzle's solution they'll frequently go ahead and buy another vowel and wastefully shave another $250 off their potential haul. Or worse still, they'll call a letter that appears just once in the puzzle instead of an equally obvious letter appearing two or three times, thereby earning only a thousand dollars, say, instead of two thousand or three thousand for the spin. In other words, they too often shoot selves in feet.

Finally, my biggest Wheel of Fortune beef of all: THE INCESSANT, POINTLESS CLAPPING.

Man! Every damn time a contestant spins the damn wheel they all stand there clapping like trained seals until it stops spinning. Clapping for what? FOR WHAT? I ask. Why do you clap, people? WHY? Why not pop and lock until the spinning stops? The Pavlovian clapping would be delightfully bizarre were it not so freaking annoying.

As for Vanna White, I have no problems at all with Vanna White.

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