.
I only cry during Rudy. Period. I can sit through weddings, funerals and painful S&M sessions with nary a thought about tearing up. But pop my well-watched copy of Rudy into the ol’ VCR and you’ve just blown open the dam, mister.
Only Rudy could do that to me. Rudy was special. Until now.
Ty Pennington and ABC’s Extreme Makeover: Home Edition have created a one-hour crybaby-fest. The show finds families with the hardest luck and juices up their lives Mtv Cribs style.
These folks have had the worst things in the world happen – one girl was allergic to light and next week’s show features a boy without bones. To an uplifting soundtrack of pan flutes and violins, the Makeover crew rebuilds the families homes from the ground up and fills the rooms full of plasma TVs, sub-zeros, whirlpools, cars and planes. At the end of the show, a country singer comes out to sing about families and angels and growing corn. The show takes your manhood away before the first commercial and doesn’t give it back until Law & Order comes on.
It is very commercialized, with Ford and Sears stamped on everything that goes inside. But I’m crying to hard to complain. Just like porn, it follows a simple formula and ends in lots of wet tissues.
So damn you Ty and your perfect hair. And damn your perfect show. And damn my wife for calling out your name during sex. How can I hunker down to watch Sunday Night Football all puffy eyed and runny nosed. You’ve turned me into a Sunday night wuss, you big…sniff…douche bag.
