(Sunday Spunday)

The flea bellies up to the crusted mic, turns, and gives a half-moldy smile to her warriors as if they were her bloodline.

Her mood is jubilant and canned, as if she knows the script by heart, because, honey, she wrote it in crayon on a napkin three days ago and has been rehearsing in the shower.

shocking

She reports on her relaxing yet busy day and hints to her listeners that, as usual, a lot is happening behind the scenes in The Villages.

(So basically, just another hint in the wind that smells like flatulence and sour cabbage yet still tastes flat and stale all at the same time. Face it, another typical night in the gar-tudio. The air itself is filing a formal complaint.)

The flea fodder finally gets to the Goober news, and the news is that ‘Goober is great,’ but before she takes a breath, she lets it slip from her cuppa inconsistencies that “They just continued his case, so no hearing on Tuesday.”

(And if you believe that, I have a large island in the south of France I can sell ya for a mere buck or two. Comes with a free bridge and a lifetime supply of “trust me, bro.”)

eye roll

Her co-panelist to start the evening is Kim Chest (sp), who sits quietly off in the corner just waiting for her chance in the Flea Show.

(Could she be the fleas’ new roommate since Goobsy is still in the clinker? Asking for a friend who enjoys watching train wrecks in real time.)

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The flea is stammering this evening as she reads her ”hellos” thrown her way from the Den of Warriorism, all as if she is grasping for thoughts that apparently packed up and left without a forwarding address.

She clears her thick, mucus-covered craw with a small cough and hesitation.
Next thing ya know, she claims she thought she would be going to Daytona. “But it turns out, I am not going to.”

(I think I’d better start taking a tally of how many times the flea will attempt to gaslight our thoughts with all her snippets that Goober won’t have court on Tuesday (at 8:30 AM). So far, the tally is 2 and counting. Somebody get this woman a bingo card.)

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The flea begins to play a semi-sad wife as she states, “Oh well, another week won’t kill me.” She swallows hard and sighs, “It is what it is.”

eye roll that could power a small wind turbine

Is she concerned that us Looky-lurkers will be there and laugh, or that the Warriors may watch and realize that Goober is indeed guilty, as we say?

(Spoiler: both. The cognitive dissonance is doing Olympic-level gymnastics over there.)

She quickly jumps from the Goobertrain before too many questions are asked and attaches her words to Lipzy LaRue’s special show that aired just a mere 30 minutes before WTH$’s Sunday Spunday.

The flea touts Lipzy’s premiere as ‘A Pre-Hodunk Season Two kick-off,’ as if there were red carpets and popcorn at the door. “She had a pre-show before Germs show tonight,” she slowly spat out.

The flea wranglers up a slimy giggle and claimed that “They knew that one or two things would happen…He is either going to attack everybody in a major way, or he’s going to IGNORE because he doesn’t want to prove us right.”

Oh, for the love of new socks, how ignorant are her Warriors who believe this spewed stew of words she is cookin’ in her Otter Creek hot plate?)
She promises them sweets, but in reality, it’s just B.S. dipped in chocolate cream and sprinkled with hate.

(Honestly, does she plot behind the scenes to conjure up her nightly drama, keeping things spicy to her level, and not give a lick of a care who she burns along the way?)

heck-ya

She quickens her speech and plays it off like her scheme made sure no one was attacked on her side, because after all, she seems to think she can control the Germ with her own plots and games.

But she starts backtracking her words and blames the special stunt of ‘watching Germ through a microscope’ on Lipzy, not herself.

(Yet, there was a poll on the Flea’s YouTube post page encouraging her Warriors to place their bets and win stupid prizes. The cognitive backflip was Olympic-caliber.)

eye roll

She then changes her mind again, claiming ownership of the stunt once again, and says they, or the Flea herself, based it on an old drinking game.

“I said, let’s take a shot every time he lies, but then everybody would be ‘chit-faced’ by the end of his show,” the flea touted. She then said she changed it to the prediction game, ya know, for the sake of saving her warriors the hangover the next day.

So basically, every time Germ did something, it was to be counted. But the Warriors needed to get their guesses in early to be eligible for those prizes, directly from the flea’s own ‘death pile’ of goods stored behind her acrylic peens.
“Whoever is most correct with their predictions, I will do a giveaway.”

She then delves deeper into the plot of the game and states, “Lipzy went on with her pre-show, and I did a post asking you guys to predict, you know, what you think was going to happen, like who was he going to attack the most?”

She continues with the game’s parameters and explains further and further what scenes could be predicted and what Germ would do in his show.
Her voice turns gravely, growly, and full of vitriol, malice, and spice, like a boiled potato that just found out a better potato replaced it.

The flea quickly shoots a text off to Ms. LaRue to ask if she received any answers that were to be thrown in the pot of answers so they could declare a winner.

She soon turns her sights on Germ’s Sunday Funday and reports that it was a nothingburger from the get-go because he started with this “big journalist thing and nuclear bombshell and stuff…which was again, DUDS!”

(Oh, it sure seems like the flea is jealous of laughter and sunshine. The green-eyed monster is currently renting space in her living room and leaving dirty dishes in the sink.)

blink

She squirrels her big buttinksi into her chair of doom and complains again that it was all just duds because there was no bombshell to be found on his stream.
“He basically had his minions interview him, ya know, because they are all journalists,” she growled from her full bowels.

She gets snarkier as she hisses that “there is not one journalist on there or even any self-proclaimed ones, actually.”

She takes her angst out on Germ, claiming that ‘his minions’ are nationally known because she too would be considered nationally known. After all, she has watchers too, from Australia and the U.K and uh, Canada. “So yeah, we’re internationally known.”

(Boy howdy, the flea hates it that Germ’s show was funny, well thought out, and full of sunshine. It’s as if she were one big jelly-filled glob of envy. Someone get this woman a spoon and a therapist.)

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The flea checks “her messages” and then begins to break down what she perceives as a Germy ploy for attention.

She complains and claims she was perplexed that “Germ didn’t even mention any filings that were filed this week… or the dismissals.”

She twists the scene to tell her spongy Warriors that Germ usually doesn’t mention things when he’s been a loser or was debunked when the truth comes out not in his favor. “He will say nothing, NOTHING!” she spits out, with little chunks of chewed food flying across the gar-tudio.

She turns her attention to Kim, her co-host, and announces that they’ll go live at 1 PM to do a show selling crystals, clothes, and other used goodies.

Lipzy soon pipes in from beyond who knows what and asks if Fleasa and her Warriors want to see the “Hodunk Promos” that she produced.

The flea turns to her Warriors and asks if they want to see all three or four of them played? She smacks her grease-laden lips and promises that after that they will delve back into the Germ summary.

Of course, the Warriors all squeal with delight to appease the musty old flea.
Eye roll wider than a flea’s big arse.

When a Warrior mentions from their hard bench that Germ doesn’t like to talk about things that are bad for him, so that his stupid Minions will soon forget the facts, the flea swallows hard and declares that ‘bible’ truth will always be kept alive and spoken about on her channel.

(Lorty-bee, her theories are gettin’ thicker than a bowl of Grandma’s grits on a cold morning. And twice as lumpy.)

thick

She doubles down and claims Germ can’t deny it when they happen to debunk his lies and the hatred he uses against people, and again stresses that she is basically doing these debunkings for humanity’s sake, all from her “channel of truth.”

eye roll

The flea finally promises to pull up the LaRue production promos of the Hodunks for this up-and-coming season, season two, to play for the masses that missed Lipzy’s ‘pre-show’.

dead air

fumbling sounds

more dead air

“Hold on,” the flea flustery says to her Warriors.

• double-checking*

hold on

Finally, the flea figures out how to hit the play button, and we get to view the promos as if it were a Hollywood hit.

(Who made the cast other than Jeremy? Will there be breakout stars? Will fame be bestowed upon new Minions? Asking for a friend who still has standards.)

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I put on my best Eber’esque hat and Siskel’esque glasses and settle in to watch the promos. Of course, honest reviews will be given, as it’s my duty, right?

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Right off the bat, I seem to deem the production two-bit at best.

The cinematography lacks focus and clarity, as if the characters are all out of focus. Is it intentional, or laziness from the film crew? (Plot twist: both. It’s a feature, not a bug, apparently, maybe?

Jeremy is dressed in overalls, wearing a crown and some dollar-store glasses.
His overalls tout his Season Two persona, stitched across the front reading “King of Hodunks”

The background players are all overly large people also dressed in ‘bibs’ to give a real country hoedown feel.

(Still out of focus and lacking any artistic appeal. The camera operator was clearly paid in exposure and regret.)

Soon, we can almost make out some of this season’s stars and see Megan dressed in a blue Speedo with her name MEG across her plump but perky bosom.

Soon, Tug is dancing behind the ‘Hodunk King,’ who is sporting a polo and jeans.
All the while, there are bare-chested background dancers all donning bibs and an attitude.

The scene changes again as quickly as diarrhea arrives after Taco Bell, and the voice the production crew chose lacks sincerity and believability.

The voices change from King to Queen in a split second, which can baffle any average viewer.

blink

Ahh, now this ‘King’ is warning the audience not to trust Lipzy and fall into her trap.

I am stymied and befuddled that this is a promo for a Grammy-nominated show. I start to get a headache from the out-of-focus script. (The only thing focused here is the pure, uncut amateur hour energy.)

With a blink of a crusted eye, the director changes the scene to the King in cartoon form, now extra plump and speaking with a Cockney accent as if he came directly from having tea with the Queen.

Amateurish, out of focus, and almost, I mean ALMOST...as idiotic as Jay Hip as a donkey in season one.

(Almost, but hard to judge due to the simplistic and sophomoric cinematic choice she is making for season two. The bar was on the floor, and they still tripped over it.)

eye roll

Next scene shows Tug perhaps plunking away at an outdated computer, bare-chested, wearing bibs.
Soon it cuts to Megan in front of her mirror checking her ‘turkey neck’ while wearing her monogrammed Speedo.
Next, Shizzy appears in the promo, in sunglasses, drinking a tall one and laughing at a computer screen.

Back to Megan, thighs looking thick.

Lipzy appears, looking freakishly and falsely sane, speaking to someone on her phone. Camera angles switch again, and it’s Fleasa on a couch on the phone, laughing it up as she talks to Lipzy.

Good God, she has a full mouth of teeth; now we know for sure this production is AI-generated.

(My head is spinning as this plays on…and on. But I hang in there to bring you the whole cast of characters and my honest opinion. Today, I feel as though I should receive a medal or at least a cookie or two due to mental health concerns)

Right, Michael?

Promo three soon starts, and it’s Megan telling The Lipz that she hates her in front of a stone church.
Poor Megan looks like her eye is swollen shut as she argues with the Lipz about facts and truth. Megan finally gets arrested.

Again, out of focus, and way out of reality.

(Perhaps we should rename the director Lipzy Looney LaRue?)

perhaps indeedy

Fourth promo doesn’t skip a beat and appears on the screen with a group of Hodunks and one lone Hodunk speaking to the audience.
Evidently, by the looks of this L.L.L. Production, flying cigarettes are normal.

(Is that supposed to be Shizzy with long hair or another unrecognizable Hodunk hillbilly?)

Fifth promo starts, fingers crossed that it’s the last…

A group of Hodunks doing a country jig, all dressed in bibs and overly rotund and uncultured.

(Again, out of focus! At this point the blurriness is the main character.)

King Hodunk appears again, promising shenanigans against his enemies while speaking in a new accent of unknown identity.

The last clip shows some more characters, and I can make out a leprechaun, Tug, Debbie Florio, and another woman whose name escapes me, but Lipz has been harassing her too.

(Wait, is the leprechaun Mr. Coop with a full beard and red hair?)

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Well, I think clearly and hard, and conclude that I have to give this 👎 👎.

Maybe if it were funnier and more focused, the review would be more favorable.
But face it, it’s not ‘Donkey Man level’ like last year’s season.

Save your sanity, your popcorn, and I warn the Warriors: don’t pay good money for Season Two, as the producer needs glasses and a big dose of something that this upcoming season seems to be lacking. Clearly, this producer lacks vision, sanity, and direction.

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Okay, after that, I get antsy and start to question my own sanity for the third or fourth time.

(The bar for self-doubt has officially been raised. Or lowered. Honestly, who’s counting anymore?)

sigh

Later in the stream, the Flea brings up Tuesday’s Goober event being moved to the following Tuesday, bringing the count to three.
But near the end of the stream, she basically warns people that if they show up to the Zoom hearing, they will be kicked out as harassers, since she already seems to have warned the courts.

Seems the court count is up to four for sure.

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Of course, the flea mocks and makes fun of Jeremy’s Sunday stream and tears all his panelists’ a new…err, um, let’s say, she didn’t give them good reviews.

(Understatement of the century. Those reviews were delivered with the subtlety of a sledgehammer made of pure spite.)

Later again in the stream, Lipzy and Dicky Lickman join the Flea panel as the flea f