My roommate once left our Foreman Grill on for three days. Since then, TV Land has deemed George Foreman and the antics of his twelve-person family television worthy. I think we’re supposed to imagine that that many people in one house behave like tumbling kittens and George the Original trying to tame everyone a la Cheaper By the Dozen. And to be fair, America wants to know. Are his five sons, all named George, referred to by a serial number or perhaps an adorable nickname?
The two-minute preview focuses on George’s love for his family. But this is sounding not only disingenuous, but also a bit familiar. A bit like Run’s House (the reruns of which once kept me only semi-unwillingly in my house for an entire Saturday). If Run’s House was The Osbournes without the profanity, Family Foreman is like Run’s House without the charm or the gorilla suits.
George’s self-evident advice like, “If you can be the best, no one will stop you,” makes me miss sugarplum visions of Rev Run, all sudsy and warm in his bathtub and his sage, end-credit monologues. I want to tickle him under the chin just thinking about it.
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