LAST EDITED ON 06-06-07 AT 06:00 AM (EST)

{ On the Lot: Take 104 }

Geez. What is this? David Copperfield, full of disappearing acts and total (dis)illusion?

Or the LA Clippers at home, adding insult to injury by benching 10 aspiring shooters and then having the temerity to ask them which of the 5 on the floor shot the best and worst? Clap-clap, thank you very much for your group opinion you guys, but it won't mean squat to the cheerleading judges, the already exiting fans, or the final score.

And where was Zach, the most talented of these wannabes who couldn't even make it into the Bollywood B's? The benched star might have raised his hand once or twice, or not at all, who knows?

Oh, now we get it. The fans vote - all one of them left, straight from the cellphone of EPMB to jack up the numbers.

Ever see a show commit harikari with its own editing scissors? But without any excitement or credibility, lacking even the least bit of blood and gore?

Train wreck, anybody? Without a dining car? Without a caboose? Without an engine? Oops, scratch that. No train to wreck.

All proudly presented to you guys by a vacuous vamp in black who couldn't find her way out of an Addam's Family sleep-coffin if her undead life depended on it.

You call these clips?

A ring flushed down the crapper? A goldfish, too? And a reality TV show along with them?
A powder puff musical in a bakery? (Oh, this one deserves an American Idol Golden Award mention.)
A comedy act that didn't even have a line, much less a punchline?
And Guess Who's Coming To Serving Dinner in the Bronx?

Ding-dong, who's at the door?

Don't answer it. Your worst nightmare awaits you. Oops, too late --

--- C U T !!! ---

Foo dogs by tribe.

Ah, the sweet scent of burning celluloid.