The man said his name was Chis Chisholm but I swear to God it sounded like Jizz Jizzum.
That's how he said it: \Hi, I'm Jizz Jizzum and I'm here to talk about The Ultrawave, a convection toaster."" I'm not joking. It was the funniest thing I have ever seen on TV.
My roommate Geiser and I had to share a room for the night in Metropolis, Ill. We were on our way to Tennessee and he wanted to get some gambling in, so we stopped in a riverboat town on the Illinois side of the Ohio River. The casino was apparently pathetic, although I wouldn't know because I wasn't 21 at the time. There were sheriffs guarding the door, and the four of them had arranged their bodies into a defiant Sept. 11-synchronized swimming style. I didn't feel like risking inquisition for sneaking in, so I stayed in the room debating whether to order pornography. It was $10, which I thought was a bit much for hot girl-on-girl action.
I called my compatriot at the roulette table and placed two bets. They were stupid bets, and I lost $20. I could have spent that money on porn. While he was at the casino the clock struck 12 a.m. and I lost my chance to buy beer. So keep in mind that all of this idiocy, which culminated in a man on TV saying Jizz Jizzum' was done sober.
When Geiser and I returned we needed to eat, so we went past the statue of Superman in the town square and headed to Hardee's. There was no one at the counter, and the drive-thru door was open, so I grabbed a root beer. I put it in a big, pretty cup and we left. I was too chicken to cook myself a biscuit, and I think I was right not to do so, because when these two large women finally appeared, they had some coke on their noses. Who knows what a coked-up behemoth of a southern Illinois woman would do to an unexpected biscuit thief? So we went to an all night diner and had some eggs and grits and toast and coffee.
When we got back we started watching infomercials. The point of this whole column, now that I think of it, is that infomercials are the greatest when you are bored and sober. Maybe a little caffeinated. They are so God-awfully stupid. I once saw one that advertised a plastic baking dish. The chef who was in charge of showing the advantages of the product was named ""Chef Tel"" and he spoke with a fake French accent. Currently the big thing is convection cooking, and apparently you can cook brownies in the same pan as fish, and both will be delicious. Convection cooking is so good that Jizz Jizzum can tell that a pork chop is tender before he puts it in his mouth. He just puts a fork in it and says, ""Mmmmmm, that's tender,"" as he lifts it to his mouth.
I admit that infomercials are an easy target, but I love them so much. They're perfect for the sleepover kind of television watching that happens when you have to share a hotel room. When that guy said ""Jizz Jizzum,"" we laughed for about 10 minutes straight. The best part is that his name only was said once more, and the woman made sure to enunciate the ""Ch"" sound.
That's what you get for expecting a lot out of an infomercials, but you still get to see testimonials about steak cooking. Oh, and they inspire such great columns too.
