Before information was free and plentiful, mankind was forced to slowly acquire specialized skills from VHS instructional videos. They're how we learned to sweat to the oldies, fight from wheelchairs and strike dragons. But not all instructional tapes were helpful. Here are four that are of no possible use to any living thing.
If you're anything like me, you'll watch Flirting With Magic hoping that the host is a creepy nerd surrounded by uncomfortable amateur bikini models. You're hoping that he talks about sex like he's still not sure what a couple parts of his genitals do. You're hoping that you're about to receive dating advice from someone who thinks second base with a girl is masturbating to a drawing of her. Well holy shit, you are not going to be disappointed:
What's handy about these tricks is that if you perform them as Michael Jeffreys demonstrates, they legally count as informing a stranger of your status as a sex offender. He talks to women the same way a clown talks to an erection he keeps in a jar. You can tell from his innuendoes that the closest he's ever come to getting sex with magic is hearing someone's mom flush a toilet at a birthday party. Here are some of my favorites:
Learning how to perform magic to pick up women is like learning how to perform blowjobs to pick up women. For example, this magician is so bad with girls that I think he might be trying to get free pepper spray out of her. If it wasn't clearly explained that this was flirting, I'd swear I was seeing a sorcerer give a woman a hysterectomy.
The easiest part of getting a divorce is explaining to your children that they weren't enough to save a relationship. They'll get the idea when your car's taillights are nearly out of sight and the howling of the wolves is closing in. But if you're looking for an even easier method, you can leave them in front of this tape.
You have to be extremely careful when dealing with hurt children, so the tape is hosted by sensitive TV dad Alan Thicke and ... surprise: Orko.
Orko is the shrieking pile of clothes from He-Man, and the first thing it does is ask the parents to leave the room. After all, why shouldn't they? We're only dealing with the emotional trauma of a confused child, and here's everything they know about this Orko thing: It conjures dark forces, it's clinically retarded, it's the only character on a show about bodybuilders having sex that kids call "the gay one" and all it wants is to be alone with their children. Either those are the exact qualities you're looking for in a child psychologist, or I'm thinking of the word "molester."
In a surprise twist, the reason Orko wanted you to watch this tape alone isn't so he could discorporate your pants. It's so your parents wouldn't find out they spent $19.95 on a VHS therapist that is just fruity music videos cut together with preteen emotional breakdowns. When Mom & Dad Break Up isn't therapeutic -- it's what you give your kids when you want them to grow up to be sanitary napkins.
The first song is called "Where Will I Keep My Toys?" It features a little girl asking her teddy bear where she'll live, how she will store all her things, where her birthday party will be held, who's going to be hold her all through the night ... if you weren't paralyzed with panic before she started singing, you will be by the end of it. This song was written for one reason only: to destroy self-centered children. Oh, were you watching this tape for comfort? Well, suck it up. They couldn't afford Orko and comfort.
The next song is called "WE GOT FEELINGS! (WE GOT FEELINGS! WE GOT FEELINGS!)" I think it's about the dangers of leaving horse adrenaline where children can find it. Orko transforms two kids into a divorce video producer's idea of rock stars, and what happens next is beyond all enthusiasm. The children sing about feelings as if the only feeling they've ever known is burning alive. I'm not exaggerating. Any doctor would look at these two kids perform and tell you that their hearts are exploding. They dance the same way a demon tells you it's now occupying what was once your daughter.
Before the third song begins, Orko plays a montage of kids telling you that you shouldn't feel bad about being mad or sad. See if you can spot the children from the last video screaming in pain from the jazziest corner of hell. It's as if this fruitball script were written by feeding Alpha-Bits to Care Bears and calling them fat until they purged. Speaking of vomit, this third song is fucked. Bad actors pretend to love each other and rub cookie dough on one another, and the music sounds like the adult contemporary genre selected a champion to go out into the world and destroy all music. If there is an elevator in Phil Collins' mouth, this is what the penises trapped inside it hate listening to. My parents have been divorced for almost 30 years, and this song was the first time I ever considered killing myself over it.
It's finally time to deal with the issue of your parents' divorce being your fault. Orko says it's not, but Orko has never been right about anything. That's the entire point of Orko.
The fourth music video, "What if I Had Cleaned My Room?" features two divorcees arguing directly into their son's ears. As you've probably guessed, he can only express himself through music and lip syncs the first song written entirely by a falcon being turned inside out by a dildo. The prop master handed the kid a football, probably to help viewers identify the chirping shape as a boy, but the way he holds it only makes the actor hired to play his father that much more disappointed in him.
Orko was wrong again, kid. You are the reason for everything.
The one lesson When Mom & Dad Break Up wants to impart more than any other is that there's nothing you can do to reunite your divorced parents. Nothing. I guess we have to believe him, but for someone with a space magician for a sidekick, Alan Thicke seems pretty quick to give in to the impossible.
Does childhood depression really need a big musical finish? This is so pointlessly insane that I'm starting to think When Mom & Dad Break Up was only made in a desperate attempt to salvage some asshole's album of divorce songs.