tv shows – Pinkie's Paradise

American Idol: Songs of Sorrow

Being the newest staff member I may have not properly introduced myself or my history to long time readers. There are several unofficial accounts about how and why I ended up on Paradise and this is one of those stories. The following is all true and not based in fantasy or fiction at all.

“You are total rubbish. You’ve made a mockery of the human voice with your tone deaf crooning. Now bugger off.” Almost as soon as I had arrived to perform I was being whisked away by producers and security guards. A woman with a headset and a clipboard had her other hand on my back guiding me through the winding labyrinth of Fox Television studios. Disembodied hands handed me an American Idol water bottle and T-Shirt as they steered me towards a long hallway with a door to the outside already propped open. They said something about me owning none of the intellectual property or my own likeness on the show, pushing me through the fire escape door and closing it behind me. I looked around the back parking lot I was ushered out to with no fanfare. From the front of the building I could still hear tweens screaming for Ryan Seacrest even though he’s like 60 years old now. I could feel the rumble of the bass from inside the building. I looked straight ahead over a chain link fence and saw a Taco Bell. I needed comfort food with no delay. Little did I know that in less than a year I would be in Paradise. At the very least they wouldn’t ask me to sing.

I had tried out for American Idol and became a laughing stock. I had only did it to try to meet Gwen Stefani and realized last second that she is actually on that other singing show. I was destroyed by the judges. My audition video went viral. People threw snowballs and big gulps at me in the streets. Women would point and laugh as I walked past. I had destroyed my own life and it seemed that redemption was an impossible task. So I boarded a raft and set sail to Paradise Island. Where other than the suspicious looks I get from Foovay I am basically left to my own devices.

But one night as I was brewing up another batch of moonshine I like to make with the day’s unused chlorine reserves I heard a knock at the door. Nervous I was caught siphoning chemicals from the resort I peaked out the window slowly… but no one was there. My pet seal (and only friend) Cookie – barked apprehensively. I opened the door looking out into the bush, seemingly set ablaze by the setting sun’s crimson glow.

The porch empty, the twilight quiet with only the hushed sound of waves crashing on the beach. But at my feet lay a sapphire case. With three faces I knew all too well gracing the cover smiling smugly. Paula, Simon and Randy. I may have been done with American Idol but American Idol wasn’t done with me.

American Idol was developed by the now defunct Hot House Creations. Based out of the United Kingdom they were best known for developing the game, Gangsters: Organized Crime.

It was published by Codemasters – who is one of Britain’s oldest video game publishing companies. Mostly known for its racing titles.

The game isn’t really that bad. It’s your typical rhythm and timing game. Press X, O, [] or ^ when it reaches the middle of the screen. Time it to the music and you’ll do fine- press it too early and it’ll sound like Alvin & The Chimpmunks singing.

It’s full of songs that were monster hits back in the early 2000’s. Your typical 90’s boy bands, Britney, Christina. I stuck closer to adult alternative with Sixpence None The Richer and Al Green songs but as I advanced through the rounds it began to feel pretty weightless. The game doesn’t convey the feeling of urgency to perform well or the intoxication of competition. It just sort of feels like you’re pressing buttons listening to a song. Which is exactly what you’re doing, ofcourse. But the game does a poor job at distracting you from that reality.

As I played the game, blasting through each round (it only takes about a half an hour to complete the “career”) I began to sweat a bit. I was playing the game fine, Cookie barking applause after every perfect play through but it’s almost as if I could feel a current pulsing through me. Soon it became too much – it was like a bolt of lightning from the top of my head.

And then all went dark.

“Lord Winkle? Are you quite alright, Lord Winkle?” I opened my eyes and momentarily slunk back into the chair. “It’s me, Lord. You gave me quite a scare. It seems your Family Man Chair gave you a bit of a shock again!” The man dressed as a butler was fanning himself looking deeply relieved.

“My…Family Man Chair…?” I meeked out.

“Yes. The special chair you had NASA construct you to see what your life would have been had you not won American Idol and become the most powerful man on Earth. I believe you named it after the popular Nicolas Cage film, The Family Man.” The butler seemed to sigh and continue on, “Although I don’t know why you must tamper with such things. You do know the next time you use the Family Man Chair it will be the last. You will have to stay there forever and give up all of this” he says with a shrug and a wave around the small room.

“What’s ‘all this’?” I ask gesturing towards the small shed I was in. The butler laughs, “Your memory must be hazy from the chair.” As he opens the door of the shed to reveal a palace made of pure gold. With lush trees and flying limousines hovering over a traditional drive way. The lush green even more eye popping in contrast to the black sky and the Earth as a backdrop.”

“It’s the moon, sir. They built a glass dome around it and gave it to you. Surely you remember. Right after you liberated the North Korean people and secured world peace with your beautiful rendition of, “Love Fool” by The Cardigans?”

Dumbstruck, I find it impossible to answer as I remove the chair helmet and stagger towards the doorway gaping at the Earth in awe. “…The…Moon..?”

“The Moon, Sir. Ever since you performed, “Hit Me Baby One More Time” that fateful September night. You’ve accomplished everything you ever wanted to but unfortunately, I fear, at a great cost.”

“At what cost, do you mean?” I asked bewildered.

The butler frowned and seemed to contemplate his reply.

“ A terminal loneliness, my lord. You’re emotionally damaged. Although you’re physically fulfilled – men and women from both Earth and Mars have been eager to court you – it seems as though you have made a trade off. Despite all of your personal and professional accomplishments a paranoid insecurity has sunk in. You have convinced yourself that you are unloveable and your past experiences have only justified that self prejudice.”

“What do you mean?” Confused and overwhelmed I pleaded. My stomach turning at the stress.

“The last woman you fell for asked you to sing the Batman Forever soundtrack eight times in a row! The one before that? ‘Bye, Bye, Bye’ twelve times. I mean, people love your voice. Not you.”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo” I scream as I struggle to strap back into the Family Man Chair. “I must go back!”

“Sir, No!” The butler screams trying to unwrangle me from the chair. “You have eliminated world hunger!”

“I don’t care!” I yell flailing, hitting him in the back as he tries to lift me up.

“Lord Winkle. You mustn’t do this! There is world peace now! If you leave all of this will vanish”

“I don’t care! Leave me alone!”

“But they made your rendition of, ‘Genie In A Bottle’ America’s new national anthem!”

“Enough! I’m going back!”

The butler resigns winded. “Fine. If you must go I won’t stop you but I ask one favor of you. Just one.”

As I strap the chairs helmet to my head I give in. “What is it?”

“Before you leave… can you please sing that one Eagle-Eye Cherry song? Please, Lord Winkle. For me.”

I agree to.

“You are total rubbish. You’ve made a mockery of the human voice with your tone deaf crooning. Now bugger off.” As soon as I had arrived to perform I was being whisked away by producers and security guards. A woman with a headset and a clipboard had her other hand on my back guiding me through the winding labyrinth of Fox Television studios. Disembodied hands handed me an American Idol water bottle and T-Shirt as they steered me towards a long hallway with a door to the outside already propped open. They said something about me owning none of the intellectual property or my own likeness on the show, pushing me through the fire escape door and closing it behind me. I looked around the back parking lot I was ushered out to with no fanfare. From the front of the building I could still hear tweens screaming for Ryan Seacrest even though he’s like 60 years old now. I could feel the rumble of the bass from inside the building. I looked straight ahead over a chain link fence and saw a Taco Bell. I needed comfort food with no delay. Little did I know that in less than a year I would be in Paradise. At the very least they wouldn’t ask me to sing.

(DEFINITELY DON’T) PEE IN THE POOL*

The usual culprits had something to say about the game via Twitter

* I was served a seize and desist order for encouraging others to “pee in the pool”.

Periwinkle’s Lowing Hanging Fruit Punch Ingredients

1.) A small chunk of fur from Parka (Cold Winter)

2.) A thimble of Jack Bauer’s sweat (24: The Game)

3.) A can of Reservoir Dog Food (Reservoir Dogs)

4.) A handlebar mustache (American Chopper)

5.) Blood of a Backstreet Boy (American Idol)

All Vroom And No Boom Makes Periwinkle A Dull Boy.

The pool remains unskimmed. Banana leafs float around aimlessly in the usually meticulous reserve. The brush and lawn overgrown. Visitors have even reported a man late at night somewhere on the edges of the island, arms outstretched in front of him, knees bent as if he were sitting on a bike making guttural puttering noises, only interrupted when he begins bending his right wrists and wailing, “VROOM VROOM” at onlookers while slowly plodding along knees bent and arms still out.

SUNDAY

It all began weeks ago when doing my usual rounds on the beach. A walk on a warm, windy night when suddenly my eyes were averted towards the dark shore amid a thunderous boom. A storm rolling in off the coast I mused, as the wind swept through my hair, nearly blinding me with loose sand. I held my arm over my eyes trying to get a better glimpse at the orbs of light racing towards me from the shore. This was no ship. It was moving too fast. It was too loud. I looked to my left and then to my right to see if anyone else was around to witness this vulgar display of force. But I realized I was alone. But I wouldn’t be for long.

As the lights and roaring thunder neared I realized it was no storm. No angry maiden of the high seas, no sea monster nor ghost ship. It was a motorcycle. An American Chopper. Treading on the surface of the ocean like Jesus on steel wheels.

Upon my horrific realization I spun around and began running back towards the resort but the Chopper ran ashore too fast, leaving pure glass tire trails on the beach sand in its wake. Knowing it was no use I turned around to confront my faceless enemy as the phantom cycle drove right through me and disappeared. Leaving only a copy of American Chopper still warm in my hands. Singed on the edges. Both Paul Teutal and his son Paulie’s faces beckoning me to begin my career as a motorcycle designer.

For the first time in my life I hadn’t chose a game.

It chose me.

MONDAY

American Chopper for the PlayStation 2 was released on June 15th 2006. Developed by Creat Studios based out of St. Petersburg and Published by Activision.

The game itself is based on the popular reality tv series, American Chopper created by The Discovery Channel. American Chopper followed a custom motor cycle shop that was run by a father-son team (Paul and Paul Jr. Teutul) in the early 2000’s. They had gained national recognition for their skillfully crafted custom motorcycles and were also reality tv darlings for their constant father/son power struggles and explosive arguments over creative direction.

While the show was a critical and commercial success for a majority of its television run little can be said about the brands misadventures in the video game industry.

American Chopper is the bastard child of some board room hack that honestly should be put in prison.

The games plot begins with you being the new hire at OCC. Being low man on the totem pole you are required to do everything both Paulie and his father ask of you. The voice acting even though done by the real Teutals is painfully sad to hear. I have never heard more unenthused men play themselves in a video game. It’s almost as if they had played the game before they did the voice acting for it and were ashamed to be associated with this crime against humanity.

As the plot moves forward you go from mundane tasks like picking up spare parts for their bikes to basically motorcycle warfare with rival biker gangs. Even after all of this – pushing and kicking other bikers head on into the paths of Semi Trucks and murdering everything in your site upon completion of the mission you are generally only greeted by a small cut scene of Paul Sr still being disappointed with you.

I could be facing back to back life sentences for the things you people have ordered me to do. The least you could do is be nice to me.

More frustrating than the lack of recognition or approval from your employers is the general control scheme as a whole. I have never rode a chopper. Or any large motorcycle for that matter. But I can safely assume that the turn radius of any sort of motorcycle is better than say I don’t know THE TITANIC? The bike handling is so ridiculous that it feels as if you’re trying to navigate a freighter through narrow city streets at stupid speeds. Almost every mission is timed and the learning curve is brutal.

One mission is particularly devastating as it requires near perfection at high speeds for a really long stretch of time. Slipping and sliding in between traffic, hard curves, and friendly bikers that constantly crash into you (which is held against you) – the mission itself has you white knuckling your controller for nearly 15 minutes straight. And it was then, friends that your boy, Periwinkle had reached a revelation.

TUESDAY

All Vroom and no boom makes Peri a dull boy. All Vroom and no boom makes Peri a dull boy. All Vroom and no boom makes Peri a dull boy. All Vroom and no boom makes Peri a dull boy. All Vroom and no boom makes Peri a dull boy. All Vroom and no boom makes Peri a dull boy.

WEDNESDAY

Has it been days? Weeks? A feverish trance. At some point while playing the unbelievably redundant game it hit me. The pattern. Go to the motorcycle shop. Get yelled at. Get told what to do. Do it. Go to the motorcycle shop. Get yelled at. Get told what to do and do it again. Over and over. I began looking up to the Tuetals. Was I a Tuetal? Is Paul Sr. My dad? Handlebar mustaches are pretty cool.

THURSDAY

I am not a Tuetal. I am something more. I am a motorcycle.

FRIDAY

Like a dream upon wakening. Before I open my eyes I lay silently with my eyes closed. I can sense someone around me watching. I hear the waves crashing on the shore. I feel the warm sun beating on me and someone ask aloud, “Is he going to be okay?”

I open my eyes. Resort visitors surround me looking stunned and relieved. A doctor is kneeling next to me his back turned rummaging through his physician bag. I ask him weakly what happened to me? He turns to face me. It’s a motor cycle in a doctors coat.

SATURDAY

I watch the screen as the credits roll and enjoy the only good part of the game. A Thornley song. (Shoooout ouuut to the Canadian readers. Big Wreck fan for life). I haven’t showered or ate in a week. I’ve lost weight. A weak five o’ clock shadow barely and the smell of piss. I must have soiled myself. I eject the disc and shut the PlayStation off. It is a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon on Paradise. The monster slayed – the hex broken- the trance lifted. I place the cursed disc back in its case (still hot to the touch) and I make my way back to the beach where it all began.

I stand at the edge of the water looking into a seemingly endless blue. I toss the case back into the ocean as the water sizzles. A strong gust of air blows off the ocean through my hair. I smile. – Periwinkle

PEE IN THE POOL

It was hard to find anyone that had actually *Played* the game itself but it almost universally was assumed it was terrible. Here are some interactions from my boy, Kyle, Pinkie trying to defend the motorcycle game genre, and me trying to save Heather’s fiancé from a similar fate that found me.

Periwinkle’s Lowing Hanging Fruit Punch Ingredients (In order of how enjoyable.)

1.) A small chunk of fur from Parka (Cold Winter)

2.) A thimble of Jack Bauer’s sweat (24: The Game)

3.) A can of Reservoir Dog Food (Reservoir Dogs)

4.) A handlebar mustache (American Chopper)

Dear Periwinkle! The manager would like to remind you to please not encourage guests to play in the pool? Perhaps create a Hot-Takes-Tub instead?! Sunny will be asked to clean the mess while you recover from the Vroooms! Much love from Manager San!

Are You Ice Cold Counter Terrorist Special Agent Jack Bauer? Take The Quiz To Find Out!

As A Pool Boy, I often have to wade through pool water, when the heating is broken, or late at night to reclaim what Island Guests, have lost! As a Result I am often very cold… Ice Cold! Are You Ice Cold Counter Terrorist Special Agent Jack Bauer? Take The Quiz To Find Out!Chances are you aren’t. I had to find out that I wasn’t special agent Jack Bauer myself the hard way. The hardest way one person can find out. By playing 24: The Game.

Anyone who has ever said that life is short has never played 24: The Game. Based on the hugely successful American television program, 24 the game takes place in between the TV shows third and fourth season. Filling in plot holes, adding additional context and content for hardcore fans. That kind of thing.

For those that have never watched the show – myself included (I was well aware of the show while it was on I just didn’t have a desire to watch Keifer Sutherland bust up terrorist scum back then) the show follows special agent Jack Bauer during his work day which apparently lasts twenty four hours? Because Terrorists never clock out.

Anyways, he shoots people, interrogates and tortures them like some sort of one man Guantanamo Bay. All to save Los Angeles or the Liberty Bell or whatever. You get the idea.

24: The Game picks up between the third and fourth seasons of the show but it really doesn’t matter. It’s not rocket science. It’s pretty easy to figure out what is happening upon starting the game. It’s a third person shooter, with all sorts of puzzles, driving and interrogation mini games. The “fun” police work I guess, considering that all the mini games are much more fun then the actual missions of running around screaming at people to put their hands up and killing them anyways.

24 was Developed by SCE Studio Cambridge – later restructured as Guerilla Cambridge most known for its MediEvil series (and shut down in 2017) during 2005.

It was published by 2k Games for the PlayStation 2 and released February 27th 2006. Essentially the game starts as Jack Bauer and his counter terrorism unit foils a plot to assassinate the Vice President. One thing leads to another and you learn a bit more about the man behind all of these nefarious plans and his connection to Jack Bauer in the past. I won’t really go into it because I’d hate to spoil a fifteen year old video game based on a twenty year old show for you.

And besides. That’s not why you’re here! You’re here for the quiz! The one thing that unites all internet users regardless of race, religion, gender, sexuality or political affiliation. We all want to know more about ourselves and I think that’s admirable. Even cute. Anyways the, “ARE YOU ICE COLD COUNTER TERRORIST SPECIAL AGENT JACK BAUER” quiz will be divided into three parts.

1.) The Basics. This is where a lot of expert quiz makers put basic questions. Yes, that was obnoxious sarcasm.

2.) Physical Fitness. This is the part of the quiz where we’ll gauge if you, the quiz taker, are as physically gifted as Special Agent Jack Bauer.

And finally my favorite section: THE QUOTES. On a scale from one to five we’ll access how much or how little you agree or disagree with a Jack Bauer quote (or a, ‘Bauerism’ as I like to refer to them by)

But before we begin the quiz I do have a new regular section to announce called, “PEE IN THE POOL”. Generally in theory it will consist of me choosing a subject – maybe asking a question about it to vast internet and everyone answering and all of us being amazed and blown away by how similar we really all are especially when sharing a love for something.

Which leads me to my current bone to pick with society as a whole. Twitter specifically. In the week leading up to and during writing this entry I canvassed the harsh terrains of Twitter and Instagram in the search for hardcore 24 fans. Feeling inadequate at fairly explaining the protagonist’s badassery I figured I’d hand the mic over to some true Jack Bauer fans and let them sound off and shut all the haters up for good.

But it never happened. Despite asking nicely, coercion, threats and begging no one would respond to my tweets. Some sympathy likes and retweets here and there but the response was clear. No one gives a shit about Perwinkle The Pool Boy and/or the world has moved on from Jack Bauer.

But I can’t accept that.

It’s much more believable no one answered any of my Tweets because I was coming off like a weird lunatic. Which is true – I was. BUT what I find completely unbelievable is that the country would turn its back on a true American hero so callously. Today – Jack Bauer – tomorrow – George Washington??

The only two people who get any sort of recognition for interacting with my fever pitch tweeting looking for super fans is, Anthony Cox (@AJC2424) and Pinkie herself, who let me know quite proudly that she has over six billion plushed unicorns. So thank you, Anthony and Pinkie.

Welcome to the, Are You Ice Cold Counter Terrorist Special Agent Jack Bauer? QUIZ

Every “Yes” answer during the first section will add 5 Points each in your total score.

THE BASICS

1.) Is your name Jack Bauer?

2.) Do you have a steely cold stare that can hesitate even the most volatile of criminals?

3.) Does your day start with a countdown clock?

4.) Are you a Federal Agent in any capacity?

5.) Has the Canadian actor, Keifer Sutherland ever portrayed you in a television series or movie?

Part 2: Physical Fitness

Again, Every “Yes” answer during the first section will add 5 Points each in your total score.

1.) Are you Canada’s sexiest export?

2.) Can you sprint for an unlimited amount of time?

3.) Does your voice sound like old country road gravel in a glass jar of warm whiskey?

4.) Do you yell the word, “Dammit!” 80-90 times a day?

5.) Can you carry all of America on your back so it can sleep soundly safe from it’s almost infinite amount of enemies?

On a sliding scale from 1-5 – choose the number based on how much you relate or, “feel” this quote. 5 being the most possible relation – you have possibly said this before or will soon. You feel this quote to the bone.

Quotes:

1.) “I’m federal agent Jack Bauer and this is the longest day of my life.”

2.) “I have killed two people since midnight, I haven’t slept in over 24 hours. So maybe… maybe you should be a little more afraid of me than you are right now.”

3.) “If you hurt my daughter I will kill you!”

4.) “You probably don’t think I could force this towel down your throat, but trust me I can. All the way. Except that I’d hold onto this little bit at the end. When your stomach starts to digest the towel, I pull it out. Taking your stomach lining with it. Most people probably take about a week to die. It’s very painful.”

5.) “Shut up, stupid! You just fired at a federal agent!”

6.) “I’m done talking with you, you understand me? You’ve read my file. The first thing I’m going to do is take out your right eye, and then I’m gonna move over and take out your left, and then I’m going to cut you. I’m gonna keep cutting you until you give me the information that I need. Do you understand me? So for the last time, where is the nerve gas?”

7.) “Our government has no integrity!”

8.) “By order of the President of The United States, PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON!”

9.) “So help me God I will kill you, and you will stay dead this time.”

10.) “By the time I’m finished with you, you’re gonna wish you felt this good again.”

SCORECARD:

0-25 Jack Bauer Points: You are basically a terrorist. You don’t believe in freedom, America or the long arm of the law. You are a criminal.

25-50 Jack Bauer Points: You are a well adjusted adult. Much more well adjusted then the guy that spent a week writing a blog post about 24

50-99: You are basically a walking Kid Rock song. You drink Liberty from a fountain of kick ass. You sew American flags together to make it heavier in case you need to use them as a weapon. You are Paul Revere on steroids.

100: You are Keifer Sutherland.

Make sure to post your points in the comments below or hit me up @buffaloretro on Twitter to participate in the next mind numbingly dumb Periwinkle Pool Boy post

AND – before I go: I was going to start to list a bit of ingredients as we go on in honor of the games we’ve covered. This list of ingredients should be able to make you the perfect Periwinkle’s Low Hanging Fruit Punch.

1.) A small chunk of fur from Parka (Cold Winter)

2.) A thimble of Jack Bauer’s sweat (24: The Game)

Until next time – thank you to Pinkie and all of the other writers for letting me pollute their space – I’ve read articles by everyone else on the resort staff and they are all very talented writers. I think they just felt bad for me and let me aboard. But I’ll take the sympathy. 😘 – Perwinkle