Oh for god’s sakes here we go again with another episode of Wicked Tuna. Listen I’m sure most of these guys are interesting in real life, but this show is pretty much the least compelling thing on TV besides whatever’s on C-Span. Anyway this season is the midway point, which means soon enough I can stop watching this show. Hooray! I’m literally a month behind because my internet is spotty out here in no man’s land. I’m sure you’re all just chomping at the bit for me to catch up. So here we go. A collective sigh.
We start off with bagpipes. Why? Why? I’m Irish and I’ve lived within 30 miles or closer of Boston my whole life and NOT MANY PEOPLE HERE LISTEN TO BAGPIPES ON THE REGS. But it’s like, sunrise, so I guess they’re going for something dramatic. I guess.
Oh there’s Dramaboat with that dreamy dudecaptainguy! Woo! Now I’m paying attention. Whoa, whoa, whoa, Tyler on StonahBoat has cut his hair. Whoa. Up is down, down is up, cats and dogs are living together in sin.
Who is this well-coiffed young man telling me about ways of the sea? I actually like shaggy hair, because I am a weird person, so I am a bit sad. But you look good, Tyler, don’t worry. His crewmember, David, is lamenting that he isn’t getting enough time with his two young kids and his wife, who is undoubtedly at her wit’s end. He’s like “this is hard”, and I completely understand. It’s almost like fishing really isn’t the best job when you have little kids, because you’re away for like 8 days at a time. He realizes exactly that, and has to figure out his options. I feel you, man. Seriously, I’m not even being snarky. I own two small children myself. That shit’s harrrd.
Oh, hello, suddenly we are transported over to HotBoat. I know I mentioned this last time, but damn if the producers of Wicked Tuna didn’t say “hey, this show is filled with some real 3/10’s, let’s get a box of hot in here.” Why, thank you, now I’ll watch only 80% ironically. Okay, hotstuff, what’s coming out of your facehole? Oh, words about fishing and shit. They tried to catch a fish and failed at the last minute. They’re mad. They needed that fish, it turns out.
With reggae music comes Stonerboat, who lost a fish due to “faulty tackle” which sounds a lot like a problem our contributor Adam has dealt with.
All of a sudden there’s another boat, the Bounty Hunter, which I swear to god has to be docked where I see it every day because I know I’ve seen that name and people wearing the shirts, but I literally do not pay attention to anything at all unless it’s food so who knows.
I know, tuna is food. Shush.
Anyway this boat now has one of the harpoon guys on it. “Hey, let’s do more reality TV!” said someone for some reason. Hooray. This part of the episode is basically “aging, pudgy white guys yell a lot and swear.” You people get on my case about my profanity, but this is like, TV. National Geographic. A formerly distinguished nature and science channel. Now we watch guys in dad socks scream “bitch” at the ocean. Awesome.
“I don’t think there’s any worse feeling than when you fight this fish and see that rod pop up and know you lost it.” Dude, really? REALLY? I know this is Dramz For the TVz but that would be like me saying “The worst feeling in the world is when WordPress eats one of my blog posts.” Not like, death, or loss, or the creeping spectre of global warming’s catastrophic outcomes, but a rod snapping. Cool.
[At this point, I actually ragequit the episode. I just can’t. Not without strong drugs.]
Can it be any worse than 90% of the rest of the reality shows? There is enough garbage on cable to fill the Pacific Ocean – I say Pacific because the Atlantic has enough garbage of its’ own already.