Like shooting fish in a wheel chair.

Practical joke shows are a hoot. Hell, just lying in general is fun. Which really, when you think about it, is all a practical joke is: a group of people coming together for the sole purpose of deceiving someone into believing something that they had no reason to doubt. Ultimately shattering their mark’s belief in the goodness of others, and making it impossible for them to ever trust another human being again, all for their own sick amusement and entertainment. And really, what’s more fun than that?

But prank shows have been fraught with tragedy throughout the years. Ed McMahon: dead. Dick Clark: might as well be. Even Ashton Kutcher it seems was unable to correctly answer the hobgoblin’s insidious riddles, forcing him to marry it. I believe this all to be even-handed retribution for their sins.

With the premier of Reality Hell on the Entertainment Exclamation Point channel we are presented with a Top Modelesque set up and introduced to an empty headed aspiring mannequin who wants so desperately to be a reality TV star, while seemingly having no concept of how these shows generally work. The reality format has been around for a couple years now, and since she auditioned for what she thought was a reality show, it would stand to reason that she had probably at one time seen one and would therefore understand that they customarily have more than four people competing in them.

All of which seems to indicate that this show, based entirely on lying to its contestant may also be lying to it’s viewers. For us to believe that SHE believes that this poorly set up scenario is a real reality show is a pretty tall glass of “reality” to choke down. Unless of course at some point I auditioned to be an audience member for a reality show not knowing that I was applying to be lied to, in which case, well played Punctuation Station.

Finally, we end (as all new practical joke shows do) with the clumsy awkwardness that is always the most entertaining moment of the program for me, as the host announces to their “star” that they have fallen victim to the diabolical cleverness of the evil geniuses of “Bingo and Stu’s Morning Zoo Crew”. Of course, with it being a brand new show that no one will have ever heard of before it doesn’t matter how loudly and excitedly you yell the name of the REAL show it’s not going to make someone who’s never heard of it understand any better. Especially when in the case of this show, it’s hidden within a fucking riddle.

“You have put me through hell, you have put my show through hell, and Kelly, you know what? We just put you through Reality Hell.”

“… I know, right?”

We all understand what’s going on, there’s no need to be cute, just come right out with it.

“We’ve just wasted thousands of dollars lying to you for no good reason on our brand new, soon to be canceled lie show: Reality Shmiality!”

“Oh… you guys are dicks.”

And we can all go home and get on with our lives.

Now, while I’m all for mocking people who want to be famous for no good reason, (I believe literally that’s all I’m for, that seems to be all I’m doing lately) when at the end of your show I feel more sorry for those involved with making the show than the jerk they’ve been screwing with, well, that’s when we as a species all lose. For realsies.

I like to think I’m a pretty good friend. And while there aren’t many to corroborate that hypothesis, I’m pretty certain that those you could find would back me up on that. So with that in mind, let’s get hypothetical.

Let’s say my very bestest friend that there is in the whole wide worldy, were laying in his death bed, wracked with pain, writhing in agony, only moment from the end of his tragically short life. And let’s further postulate that he were to ask me in a shaky, fragile whisper, as a final dieing request, that I do nothing more than simply sit at his bed side for an hour and watch with him home movies of the trip he took to Yosimestone National Tree Yard and Gift Shop with his family last Summer. And after making this oh so tiny request of me, his attending doctor leans over to tell me that by simply watching this video with my dearly beloved, nearly dead friend, it would somehow miraculously restore his vitality and grant him another sixty years of pain free, vibrant existence. With all of that hypothetically said I would of course, without hesitation, simply shake my head solemnly at the injustice of it all and gently hold my bosomest pal’s hand in mine, cursing that there was simply nothing that could be done differently, as the last wisps of life quietly slipped past his lips.

Great American Road Trip, hosted by Reno "Hey, aren't you Andy Richter" Collier

Which brings me to NBC’s Great American Road Trip. There’s nothing good about someone else’s vacation slides. Even if you try to tell me it’s a “reality competition” program for fabulous cash prizes and fire engine rides over the Mississippi river. It’s still motor homes full of people who aren’t me being recorded for no good reason and shared with the world for even less.

Great American Road Trip takes all of the best things about shows like Amazing Race, packs them neatly into a suit case and absentmindedly leaves it sitting on the roof of the car as it pulls out of the drive way, sending it sliding off the back and left laying in the middle of the road, unnoticed until someone goes looking for a bag of ratings or a bottle of viewer interest only to finally realize their tragic mistake. So rather than contestants with any sort of inspiring or interesting story or reason for being on your television screen, Great American Road Trip simply pulls seven stereotypes from a hat, stuffs them into a fleet of RVs and sets them loose on middle America.

Watch as the little Puerto Rican kids scream and whine over who gets the last gummy worm. Marvel at the hilarious regional differences as the family from Yonkers debates the Arkansas rednecks over the proper mispronunciation for referencing multiple people: “y’all” or “yous”. Be astounded by the ridiculously convoluted games based loosely around the American Presidential electoral system and debasing national landmarks like the St. Louis Gateway Arch, by treating it like a giant croquet wicket in the most painfully boring competitions ever conceived.

So ultimately the Great American Road Trip ends up being exactly like the Amazing Race. Except without the exotic foreign locales, or the compelling character stories and well thought out region specific challenges, or the Amazingness. Oh, and it’s not a race either. But other than that though, just like Amazing Race.

All of us have an embarrassing period in our lives where we looked and dressed like something that should be punched repeatedly in the face. If you’re not sure what I mean, I apologize for interrupting the sculpting of that magnificent faux hawk of yours. The point is that most of us grew out of that phase, and that our entire being wasn’t permanently defined by the single most ridiculous period in our lives. Unfortunately, for Stanley Burrell, he’s not most of us.

We of course know Stanley more commonly as a man literally 2 Legit 2 cease doing what ever it was he was doing at any given moment. So legit was he in fact, that the second the family friendly persona that bought him a gold-dipped mansion, high above Oakland, begin to fall out of favor, he immediately abandoned it in favor of a thugged out gangsta image in a desperate attempt to cling onto relevancy. And really, what’s more legit than pretending to be a street tough in order to pay for your grotesque opulence? But now Hammer is back with his latest display of unwavering legitimacy: a twitter sprinkled reality show, effectively combining two things that coveted demographics love with a star that fans of both have never heard of.

It's Hammert-DANCINGMAN!-me...

In catching up with the Hammersons, it seems that after buying everyone in Oakland a pony, then mysteriously finding himself with nothing left to show for 50 million albums sold, Hammer took refuge in Tracy, California. Ya see, Oakland’s cool and all when you’re young and buying diamond studded weed for your posse, but when it’s all over and all you have left are Addams Family movie residuals, it’s time to pack up the backup dancers and move it to Tracy. And now Stanley is just like us, with regular, every day problems that are just as boring and un-watchable as yours and mine!

It seems that Hammer’s middle child, Jeremiah, is struggling at school and brings home a report card with a D in mathematics. Stanley then visits young Jeremiah’s school for a conveniently timed “bring your father to work day” in which clever editing makes it look like the other children, in young Jeremiah’s class, hadn’t even the slightest idea who Mr. Burrell was or that they had any more interest in him than the electrician dad before him.

Following a brief consultation with his child’s teacher, which boiled down to “be active in the upbringing of your child, dipshit”, Stanley took young Jeremiah home and read him one sentence about the human rib cage; which resulted in a 90.9% on a test of the human skeleton a week later. How that relates to a D in math – I’m not entirely sure – unless the test was to count the number of bones in the human body, in which case it’s entirely relevant and I’m an asshole.

Ultimately, “Hammertime” is just another “slice of life” look at the every day exploits of the happy home life of a former celebrity, suitable for the whole family. Unless of course it’s not well received by the public, in which case it will suddenly, without warning and for no good reason, become a show about bitches and money on the mean streets of Tracy, California. T-ville all up in this piece, biZznatch! That is, if you don’t mind terribly. Thanks so much.