10 Fake Game Show Host Intro Lines

I created this list for a job that didn't pan out in the past. They wanted a creative marketer, so I undertook this writing challenge and one other. I didn't get the job because I didn't have enough analytical experience--go figure. Note to all future creatives: You can't simply write or design, you have to be useful in other non-related fields. (Let the salt burn the Earth!)

1. It’s America’s favorite show: Tossed Commas and Scrambled Verbs. I’m your host Kelsey Grammar. While we like to abbreviate many things in this life, some things are not meant to be abbreviated. I told my colleagues I had a massive BM last night. It was a Bloody Mary. Anyway…  
2. We’re here for another episode of Sit, Stay, SPEAK—the show where you compete against a dog in basic commands. Tonight we’re brought to you by Boondock St. Bernards. Want a cuddly puppy with a taste for vigilante justice? Get yourself a Boondock St. Bernard. Someone take Beethoven out…for blood! 
3. Hey, gang. My name is Bob Sourbro, and THIS…is Carb or Starve, the trivia show that asks the question: Do you have a gluten allergy? 
4. Welcome to another episode of Cause for Pause—the game show about freezable movie frames. I’m Sebastian Pistachio, certified movie nut. 
5. Welcome to Who’s the Boss, Baby? I’m Bob Wattums. There are a few things coming in hot from my end right now, not the least of which are these trivia questions. 
6. Heather Snawgrass here, and welcome to the biblical quiz show Pope or Nope—the game where you confess your sins or face...YOUR LOCAL CLERGYMAN. 
7. And we’re back with the 100th episode of Romantic Encounter Challenge. I’m your host, Tucker Nepples. Look, my dudes: My dad's gonna stop paying advertisers if I don’t find a suitable mate soon. 
8. And we’re back with another round of Mound Pounders. The game that asks the age-old question: What's better? Almond Joy or Mounds.
9. Welcome back to Spin the Beef. My mom just called and said not to come home. She’s working with raw chicken, and it is Salmonella City there right now. So, sit back and relax because the door’s locked and we gotta kill time or be killed by unwashed meats.
10. Thanks for joining us for another episode of BBQuiz, the cooking game show Guy Fieri refused to host. I’m your host James Schlop. We’re heading right into the palette blaster round. Is the dunk tank ready, Jody?

Trump Tulsa Rally Parody - June 2020

 Scene starts during the Trump rally in Tulsa, Donald Trump walking toward the podium stage, with two commentators near the stage discussing the reactions as if at a sporting event. When the crowd is noted, various shots of raging audiences (growing increasingly bizarre) will be shown.

 [Donald Trump approaches the podium from a very level ramp, his gait slow as the MCs begin.]

DINA

Welcome to the first Trump rally since February. Back then were very different times. Coronavirus was known less offensively as the China virus. And we lost the great institution of Boy Scouts due to bankruptcy and some other minor indiscretions, right Ted?

TED

That’s right, Dina. That was four short months ago, so it’s time to once again congregate and proliferate. I’m looking out in the crowd, and you all are packed like sardines in this stadium, and I couldn’t be more proud. (Shot of crowd waiting for Black Friday store to open) Oh, look, the president is winding up for a strong finish…

[DT trots the last couple steps, cuts to a shot of Bruce Jenner running through the finish line. The crowd goes wild.]

DONALD TRUMP (OUT OF BREATH): 

Thank you, thank you. Did you see that all-out dash at the end? Lamestream media won’t tell you this, but I’m one of the greatest walkers in the world. You know that mom that walks fast around your neighborhood with ankle weights like she has to get to a bathroom toot sweet? She’s no match for Darting Donny. That’s what they called me in gym class. I was part of a kid gang called the Bone Spur Bros.

DINA

OK, hold on a second, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for: President Trump is drinking water. With two…no…ONE HAND. 

[THE CROWD GOES WILD]

TED

This is what the crowd wanted. And he delivered. GOD IS GOOD but Trump is arguably better.

DONALD TRUMP

Well, the great people of Tulsa are here to make America great again… It’s a blowout showing, as usual. Biggest crowd ever assembled in Oklahoma. So big, we had to create a second stage outside, which is now being used as a testing facility for this very event. We have great testing, folks. But if you don’t get tested, you don’t get Covid—it’s simple. (tosses glass of water off stage, breaking /splashing a man, the man weeps happily yet gently with other taking a photo of him)

DINA

The president threw the water glass off stage. And hold on… He’s now eating one of the recently revived five-dollar footlongs from Subway. 

TED

President Trump single handedly created thousands of jobs to support this promotion.

DINA

How many hands around that massive manwich, Ted? Because you can’t single hand a sandwich that big. We know his hands are huge, it’s frankly surprising he ever needs to use both.

TED

You won’t believe this, Dina. He’s not using EITHER HAND. Why tire out those large, powerful hands for holding big, thick bibles when your feet are just as huge. And guess what? Now everyone in America has a foot AND food fetish.

DINA

And that’s already on top of the long tie affixiation fetish.

DONALD TRUMP

Some of you are wearing masks, some choosing not to—I choose not to. I don’t need to because my immune system is so strong. So strong, I have a staff infection. And by that I mean, several of my staff members called off sick today. (Looking over at Dr. Birx.) Could you check on that…check if there’s something going around? Thank you. (A priest approaches the stage.)

TED

OK, we’ve got a priest presenting the Communion wine.

[DT waves both hands away and takes the shot with his mouth. Cut to crowd at Jersey Shore going nuts at a rave.]

DINA

As we know, President Trump does not drink alcohol, but for the Lord, Donald will claim to do anything in his name.

DONALD TRUMP

As you all know, the left-wing extremists didn’t want us here. They’re having their riots, their petitions, their parent teacher conferences, and their hootenannies. Double standard. Double standards from the drifty dems. They’re drifting so far to the left, they want to turn this nation into a Chuck E. Cheese. They want handouts for participating in their silly games. But I won’t let the good name of Pasqually P. Pieplate be tarnished. He’s a hard-working chef and he even lets me play with his balls… The balls in the pit. It’s called a ball pit. That’s what they call it. Hold on, I need to take my daily hydrogen peroxide. (Pops pill)

DINA

Oh, looks like he needs to take some pills. (Trump looks around for something to chase his pills.) But how is he gonna get that down, he threw his glass without his usual divine foresight of knowing it would be needed again.

TED

Look! Someone just threw applesauce on the stage. That’s a nice, thick remedy, and without a spoon it’s best to hold the cup with both hands…and no he’s not doing it!(DT takes shot of applesauce)

MY GOD the crowd can’t handle this. (shot of crowd weeping tears of joy from one of those PBS sermons)

DONALD TRUMP

There are unsubstantiated rumors out there saying that Kpop fans--or as I call them Karate Poppers—bought seats with NO INTENTION of coming. I’m very good friends with the Korean people—they love me and I love their geishas. Yes, the geishas of the orient. A beautiful history. The fake news wants you to believe I have beef with the kpop fans, but the only beef I have is served with broccoli and a side of lo mein.

TED

Looks like the president is about to wrap up.

DONALD TRUMP

I’m looking at this huge crowd (cuts to shot of Phantom Menace opening day at the theater). And the litigious (pronounces light-uh-jis) left wants you to think you’re not here. But you are. And thank you for signing those beautiful pieces of paper saying that you won’t let a cotton swab near your nose for the rest of 2020. The fine print is just that—fine, good-looking words. The best words. And with that, I will now ascend the ramp. God bless these (slurred) reunited cakes.

DINA

And that’s a wrap, Ted. The president putting his money where his mouth is and taking on the difficult journey off the stage, up the ramp, to what we assume is halfway to heaven. 

(Camera on commentators pans to Donald Trump. He climbs into that wheelchair seat that old people take to go up the stairs.)

TED 

Oop, sorry we cut to the wrong feed. (camera pans back) That was President Trump…

DINA

…testing out that wheelchair! He likes to check things out from time to time…

It's Me...Again

CAST: Danny, 37, writes messages to his ex-girlfriend; Alana, 38, ignores messages from her ex-boyfriend.

Setting: In Danny’s living room with a couch, desk, computer, Top Gun poster.

SUMMARY: Danny writes on various devices (phone, computer) in his home to his ex, all while the world around him moves forward.

Danny sits on his couch, phone in hand, as he starts typing, his voiceover plays

DANNY

Hey, Alana! So, it’s been awhile, but I wanted to say hello and see what you’re up to. I know we had some hard times when we were together, but I feel the need to stay friends. If you don’t want me to contact you, let me know and  I won’t. But if you do, I’d love to catch up. Talk to me, Alana. -Danny

Scene fades showing the passage of time, reopens to him with a woman in the background

DANNY

Hello, Alana. So, I randomly decide to see what everyone's fav girl is up to on Facebook and what do I see? A musical reference to the best song from my favorite movie: Top Gun. I know what you’re thinking: Hot Summer Nights and topless volleyball. Well, you’ve been on my mind too. Anywaaaaay, looks like a lot is changing for you, so I just wanted to reach out and say I hope everything is going well. Can you let me know you got this message? TTYL! -Danny

 

Scene fades showing the passage of time, reopens to him with a woman and a dog in the background

DANNY

Hi. So, I can't help but notice you blocked me on Facebook... Does that mean you blocked me on email too? I waited a while to ask to be respectful of your space but hopefully it's been long enough? Can we be friends yet? I ask because I don't want to write a real email only to have it fall on deaf ears. On a lighter note, I got a dog! He’s a real bruiser, and I bet you’d love him. His name: ICEMAN. His influence: you guessed it, Top Gun. You were always so good with animals. Hit me back, please! I want to send you a real note. -Danny

 

Scene fades showing the passage of time, reopens to him with a pregnant woman and dog in the background

DANNY

Alana. I hope you weren’t upset about me getting Iceman. I know you always wanted a dog, and I wasn’t emotionally ready for that kind of responsibility. I’ve changed a lot. I’m a lot more mature. I know what my priorities should be. I can tell you if you let me. I don’t know if you get these emails or not, but I really need to talk to you. Talk to you soon (I hope)! -Danny

Scene fades showing the passage of time, reopens to him typing on his phone with a woman, baby, and dog in the background

DANNY

I wasn’t sure if you got the emails I sent. And I think this is still your phone number… Alana-na~ Remember that nickname? You had one for me too: Danny-boy. Not sure if you called me that because you liked The Shining and felt like you wanted to kill me. Or maybe it’s because I did baby talk too much in bed. Really sorry about that. Talking about your “bweasties” and my “widdle dan-dan noodle” just wasn’t a turn-on for you and I get it. Either way, I was always satisfied. I’m wondering why you never respond to my emails. Respond to my message or lose me forever. -Danny-boy ;D

Scene fades showing the passage of time, reopens to him alone

DANNY

Alana. Soooo, after all those messages, you were getting them. That’s great! But guess what? A response would have been appreciated. It seems you decided to forward our PRIVATE correspondence to my wife. That was low, Alana. A real immature move. I thought you were better than that. That’s not what I meant when I said “get back at me.” Far from it. Well, I hope you’re happy. You ruined my life. You did this. This will be my last message. - Daniel

Scene fades but quickly comes back to prior scene

DANNY

P.S. Let me know you got this. Thanks.

What Was Wrong with Wii Music

Taking an objective—and sometimes subjective—look at why Wii Music failed to resonate with consumers.

In 2006, the Nintendo Wii was released with the now best-selling, single-console game of all time: Wii Sports. Does it count if it was bundled with the Wii system? Apparently, yes. Would 1-2-Switch have "sold" more units if Nintendo bundled it in with the Switch? Absolutely, yes. Following Wii Sports’ success were other iterations in the Wii game series like Wii Fit (43 million units sold) and Wii Play (28 million units sold). There was one game, however, that didn't enjoy the same popularity. Here's a hint:

This wasn't DJ Ravidrums worst gig. He performed at the Make America Great! Welcome Celebration in 2017.

Wii Music sold around 2.5 million units. That number is decent, yes, but when compared to its other Wii series games, Nintendo missed the mark and market on this one. Here are some reasons Wii Music failed to resonate with fans.

Wii Music is not a video game

People see video games as a play activity with clear rules, goals, and feedback. In Wii Music, it is a pretended reality with no clear rules, no goals, nor any feedback; therefore, it is not a video game. Wii Music is a toy. Toys are better suited to young children who simply enjoy the entertainment of something and ignore rules and goals. Perhaps the target audience should have been much different, say to ages 3 - 8, as an alternate to the recorder as an entryway to music.

Wii Music is TOO Casual

Speaking of target audience, Wii Sports was targeted at the casual market ("…even if you have never played a game before") but dumbed down too much. Many casual players pushed the momentum of Rock Band and Guitar Hero’s (hereafter RB/GH) success, and the difficulty options for those games ranged from the complex to mostly simple button combos. The market didn't need a more simple presentation. Part of the joy of learning music is hearing your effort come to life. Wii Music is the equivalent of giving someone a paintbrush, having them shake it around, and getting a Bob Ross landscape without learning how to make the happy trees. Wii Music plays itself for you.

And it's TOO Broad

I think the developers wanted to create an ideal music game that would appeal to everyone. It is not possible to please everyone because everyone does not enjoy the same thing. Games should strive for inclusiveness, not universality. Add one or two unique features to a new game so as to not alienate enthusiasts, with the intent of attracting the interest of people who otherwise wouldn't notice.

Why did we need Wii Music? 

There's a reason kids pick up learning a musical instrument when they're young: it's easy. With the right guidance, most kids can learn how to read music and make a melody on an instrument in a few days if not hours. There's also a reason people played RB/GH games: they entertained people by allowing them to play music to popular songs, and you could play cooperatively for high scores. Wii Music floats in the middle of those two ideas: playing together but with no challenge, and learning to play music, which is already accessible to most people. 

It was released as an inferior product

If it preceded the (at the time) revolutionary RB/GH, it may have had a chance, but the product was the equivalent of Sony and Microsoft's attempts at motion controls after the Wii's release: late to the party, despite better tech. There was no need for consumers to buy this product.

The controls were silly

When people play music games cooperatively with friends, they're emulating a real-life craft. The controllers offered by RB/GH use similar peripherals compared to their real-life counterparts. The Wii Remote and nunchuck don't have that same appeal.

How do I look? 

A lot of people (certainly not me) want to look cool (definitely not me) when performing in front of friends (of which I have MANY), and the Wii Music combo would make Bruno Mars look like a scrub.

Suspension of Disbelief was missing

Wii Music lacked the immersion that RB/GH gave to people: I'm really singing "Since You've Been Gone" into this mic vs. I'm using this plastic remote like a saxophone. Definitely pulling this off... This kind of social immersion was missing in Wii Music.

Where's the Motivation?

Games need to incentivize players to continue playing, and so long as a game keeps offering new things to learn, it remains enjoyable. In Wii Music, what are the goals, what is the feedback? This game provides little of either. The feedback in Wii Music is as complex as pressing a cow button and hearing the cow go moo.

No clear vision

There's an Iwata Asks article about Wii Music, and apparently Mr. Miyamoto tinkered with a musical video game idea in the 64 era. That idea went on for years with no specific goal in mind. A prototype came about with the Wii "conductor's game.” According to the article, the concept seemingly continued to drag. Games that have no clear vision struggle throughout development. The developers did not outright answer the most important question: What is the player going to do? What is their role and what dream is being fulfilled? You're telling people you can become a musical master, but they're not learning those skills. It's like telling potential Mario Kart consumers, "Play this game and it's like driving a car in real life, minus the props.”

If you enjoyed Wii Music, great; but as far as the Wii series library goes, Wii Music is, by far, the “wiikest” link. (Yikes.)

That Dog

I remember Bogey in the laundry room. The cold hardwood floor his bed, no, his world; the dark his constant companion. He couldn't hold his piss like he used to, and that wasn't acceptable to Rob. I turned the light on as I stepped into the room. Either the light or my scent drove him into a frenzy, and he paced around me. I knelt to hold him, to calm him down. Cupping his face, I felt what little fur he had left. His tongue frantically searched the air for a lick of moisture. (Only a few sips of water a day--that ensures fewer messes to clean up for Rob.) How is this moment real? Bogey was a family member for 12 years, both cherished and loved by Rob and the others. But then Bogey grew old. He became an inconvenience. (I think when time's limit starts to noticeably tick, it's louder to those around you.) That dog suffered; Rob watched TV. That dog searched for his pack; Rob knew exactly where he was. I urged Rob to send Bogey away—out of his misery if nothing else. What sort of life is lived trapped in this void? “He’s fine,” Rob said. I wouldn’t relent, though. I reminded Rob every day. Every day. Every day until my persistence was more annoying than that dog that couldn’t contain his bowels. Rob conceded.

The next day, I cradled Bogey, his body tense as I gripped the skeletal ridges of his torso around my arms. Rob would want to say goodbye; after all, he wouldn't come for the farewell. I carried Bogey out to Rob. He looked at the dog with hollow eyes. In this house, Bogey was dead a long time ago. I took him to the veterinarian without Rob. Why am I doing this? He's not even my dog...

My eyes hurt. I couldn't stop the tears. I couldn't hold them in. One by one by one they pushed through--burning my skin--reminding me that Bogey was forever gone.

The hardwood floors...they're clean again.

Sad Times at Outcast High

When I think back to all the cruel words and actions I endured in middle school, many instances come to mind. Here’s a collection of the worst that I remember:

• I was dubbed “Casper the Ugly Ghost.”
• I had a gap in between my teeth, and so boys would do the field goal gesture as they passed me in the hallway.
• I invited all the girls in my class to my birthday party. Only two out of 12 accepted; I overheard the remaining 10 entertain each other with their made-up excuses for not coming.
• I dreaded the dance unit in P.E. class since no boy would dance with me--but someone always got stuck with me. They’d never look at me while we danced, instead looking forward to the moment when it’d be over.
• One girl caused a rumor that I stuffed my bra in sixth grade. (Thanks for that, Katie R.) To this day, I don’t know why she started that false rumor. Puberty hadn’t summoned my chest to rise yet, and I was so flat I wore a sports bra just for kicks--or nips. Whatever. Despite the historically pancake nature of my chest, the whispers didn’t die down for some time. Rumors really suck when they’re not based on the slightest fact. I actually considered stuffing my bra AFTER the rumors since I didn’t realize it was a problem prior. (If I recall correctly, Katie R. never filled out. Hah! Boob karma.)

All of that sucked. I was sad, lonely, and sometimes my thoughts turned...very dark. Desperate to find peace, I entertained the thought of leaving in hopes that a happy life elsewhere awaited. (I credit a specific video game for carrying me out of that Hell and giving me hope and purpose. That’s a different, happy story.)

I eventually gained a few friends in middle school, and those friends transitioned into high school. Around sophomore year, I don’t know what sparked it, but I became brave. I grew confident with my thoughts, my words, my actions, and who I was. I tired of quietly sitting in class, at lunch, in the hallway, on the bus, and every waking moment. I started to crack jokes, make decisions courageously, call out people that were mean or rude, and simply exist outwardly instead of in my head. I know not everyone changes from being the outcast to the accepted. I’m lucky I found a way. That’s not to say I was popular, but no one bullied me any longer.

During my junior year, I learned a different type of hostility. Truly, the crux of this whole piece as it wasn’t a demeaning name or slanderous rumor or lewd gesture. This person f**ked with me. Mental game sh** that I didn’t realize was possible, and to this day astounds me knowing a 16-year-old was capable of such cruelty.

I met Molly on the bus going to and from school. She was a cheerleader that oddly seemed exiled from her teammates. Molly was energetic, enthusiastic, and I enjoyed hanging out with her. We talked about topics most teenage girls chat about including boys we fancied. As she earned my trust, I grew candid with her and mentioned a classmate, Drew, that I found handsome. She told me that they were friends, and she would ask him if he was interested. At this point, I hadn’t so much as kissed or hugged a boy, and so this prospect was exciting!

The next day, Molly told me that Drew liked me. Not only that, he was interested in meeting up after the basketball game on Friday. (Drew played on our high school team.) The school usually held a mixer in the cafeteria after a home game, and we would meet there. I told my other friends about the romantic development as I was over-the-moon thinking we would finally talk. Better yet--he already liked me! It felt like fate, and at the time, I hoped that fate had some place in our world.

I watched the game from the bleachers--and Drew--but couldn’t stop thinking about my night with destiny. Molly left her post cheering on the court to greet me. She told me that all the plans were set and Drew would meet me by the pop machines in the cafeteria at 9:15 p.m. That made sense. He had to shower and get ready after the game. It was our first meeting after all.

I counted down the minutes to the buzzer and excitedly took my place in the cafeteria. Molly swung by to confirm I was in the right spot. She said Drew would be out shortly. At 9:15, I turned away from the door. I decided that I would let him turn me around or tap my shoulder or some other sweet gesture. A few minutes later, I checked the clock and he was late. That’s okay. Probably had to fix his hair or apply extra deodorant. The reasons why he was late grew in number as time continued to pass. I started to ask if anyone around saw Drew. I scanned the room for him, thinking it was possible he got the location wrong. I texted Molly. No answer. I called Molly. No answer. I looked at the clock which reached the tenth hour. He wasn’t coming. He...never was coming. One of his teammates I knew from class verified that he went home with his parents immediately after the game. She fabricated the whole thing. But why? I texted her again when I got home. No response.

On Monday, Molly got on the bus, but she didn’t sit by me like usual. When we arrived at school, I accused her of tricking me for her pleasure. She denied it saying they did talk, but HE probably chickened out last minute. It wasn’t true, though. Certainly I couldn’t confront him; he wasn't aware anything was happening! That’s how foolish the whole scenario was. I believed it was possible that he noticed me like I noticed him, and she would bring us together. I was strung along like a fool.

I cut off Molly completely after that. She tried talking to me a few times as if nothing happened, but I refused to acknowledge her. I didn't understand why she played me. I am now older, wiser and more cynical. I know that humans are capable of cruelty, but why can’t we evolve to be wholly honest and kind to each other? It’s not in our history, and so likely not our fate either.

The Squirrel of Carbs

Many years ago, to compost stale food I would throw the offenders off my balcony into the field behind my apartment. I figured the bugs and animals could do better work than a landfill. One day, I launched a quarter loaf of bread into the yard. I went back inside to check on the laundry, and then grabbed some damp clothes to hang outside. As I’m hanging the shirts, I noticed the loaf is missing in the field. I scanned the space and saw a squirrel grasping the sizable loaf in both his claws. He was hugging it, spooning it, owning it, and just wrapping every ounce of his being into this yeast-infused treasure. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the scene. I returned to my chores without realizing the impact I made on that squirrel’s diet--nay, life.

Click for full-size squirrel on loaf.

As I was locking up my apartment a few days later, I heard a screech behind me. A squirrel was hissing at me. His body tense, his voice shrill--it was the squirrel from the yard! I wasn’t sure how to process the situation, so I left for school knowing I gave that squirrel a taste for bread that couldn’t be sated any longer by weekly scraps. He was addicted to his newfound wheat belly, and I was the dealer responsible for his unnatural desire. The next day, I explored the balcony and found that the squirrel--let’s call him Carb Squirrel--took up residence in a little hole in a brick pillar. What’s better for a critter than a second-floor loft next to an irresponsible human that recklessly flings biscuits out their window?

A couple months later, Carb Squirrel charmed a lady squirrel into moving in with him. Such a sweet story if you remove the part where this doubled the amount of squirrel screaming. As far as terrible neighbors go, I figure two animals that harass you daily for not serving them food ranks pretty high. Eventually, they stopped berating me since I no longer hurled food into the yard after I saw the effect it had on Carb Squirrel.

I suppose that’s the lesson. I went from someone that didn’t think twice about throwing food away in my backyard, to someone who now makes a conscious effort to reduce waste and to properly compost whenever possible. I live clear across the country now, but I wish nothing but the best for Carb Squirrel and his companion. I’m sure they had squirrel babies and told stories of the giant, unfurred gluten dealer that caused their father’s diabetes. But more likely, rest with pieces of croutons, Carb Squirrel. I hope your legacy of doing a bread shotgun lives on in that backyard.