11 December 2006
tell your friends...
Words by Sean Moeller//Illustration by Abby Rodriguez
Father and son talks on “The Brak Show” are not exactly the dispensations of hokey wisdom that Mike Brady doled out to Marcia, Jan, Cindy, Greg, Peter and Bobby. It’s closer to the two ‘90s film adaptation’s parodies of those speeches, but they’re most like the deep thoughts that Jack Handey would recite on old episodes of “Saturday Night Live.” Handey’s pearls such as, “Too bad there’s not such a thing as a golden skunk, because you’d probably be proud to be sprayed by one” and “I think somebody should come up with a way to breed a very large shrimp. That way, you could ride him, then, after you camped at night, you could eat him. How about it, science?” Tell me the vice president of chocolate Eugene Mirman doesn’t watch Brak and I’ll call you a liar with his pants raging like a California forest fire. Brak’s pint-sized Cuban father, who routinely raises a flexed fist to show emphasis, never makes any sense and for that – if this was live-action – he would be the breakout star. He would be Dwight Schrute. There is a tao for Brak’s father and it’s to be completely deluded to any form of reality. His monologues are wacky and they are served with a “Days of Our Lives” swell of mood music to make them sound more proper. He gives advice about buttery little lobsters that isn’t helpful for anyone. He approves pumpkin pie and bosoms and has a secret lair below the kitchen floor where he’s trying to formulate a plan of attack to stop the giant killer ants mentioned yesterday. It’s some fucked up shit. It’s like Cheech or Chong with a pan of pot brownies collaborating with The Far Side’s Gary Larson, Pearls Before Swine’s Stephan Pastis and Rodney Dangerfield.
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