Recap: American Inventor: British Man Croaks!

British Man, we hardly liked ye. RIP.

This week on American Inventor: Holy crap! British Man was attacked and shot by a psychotic (and potentially rabid) contestant who just couldn’t cope with the rejection! ABC’s rating skyrocketed through the roof, and the show’s been canceled to pay the ensuing legal fees!Err…or not. It’s opposite day here in T.Voland, and I sometimes imagine what it’d be like to recap a show that you all watch. But it got you to page two, didn’t it?

It’s TVGasm tradition that the worse the show is, the better the recap. But I just had to be the one to break with time-honored tradition, didn’t I? Don’t leave me, please. I’ve resigned myself to “one comment” no-man’s land of the suck, but I swear my fall recaps will rock you off your couch. Or your money back. Me love you long time.

Look Ma, no legs!

Four cities down, two more to go. We’ve locked in the SF, LA, Chicago, and NY finalists – just the “scorching hot plains” of Houston and the “sandy shores” of Tampa left. We learn everything we need to know in the opening montage, as usual.

I wouldn’t have figured that one out without ABC’s helpful graphic.

In the world of bizarre laws:

Houston, Texas: You’re not allowed to buy Limburger cheese, goose liver, or rye bread on a Sunday.
Tampa, Florida: You may not fart in a public place after 6 PM. Also, sexual relations with a porcupine is illegal. Fascists!

We’re in Texas, the home of Shiner Bock ice cream (okay, that’s technically Austin). In what appears to be a room of musical chairs for retards, thousands of inventors anxiously await immediate rejection and public humiliation.

Everyone’s a winner! Not.

61-year-old Charles Amyx has worked for three years and has spent 4700 dollars on a school bus driver’s salary. He’s waited a year to show them his Cool It Top, a hat/cap combination that keeps your head from sweating.

Charles has a Cletus the Slack-Jawed Yokel vibe going on: “Ah ‘ave an ahmayzin’ ‘vention, reckon it’s firs’ of it’s kind.”

It also ensures that you will be shunned by everyone around you.
Made out of two layers of foam and various doodads to indicate themes such as “cafeteria worker” (hair netting), “sports fan” (baseballs), Charles hits the jackpot with his interpretation of Halloween:

The perfect centerpiece for your shrunken head collection.

“Ah’ told ya I was the next Ah-merican inventah, but ah’m not.” Aww.

Sri Lankan Evan Balasuriya, 65, is about to reverse the aging process. No, not with copious amounts of the obscenely expensive Cream de La Mer, whose company freely admits that they know nothing about its miraculous properties: “Even now, it is not entirely clear how Crème de la Mer works. For us schooled in logic, it is something of a jolt to the imagination.” Man, unborn fetuses must be a super-expensive ingredient.

No, it’s the one-minute wonder, the Double Chin Buster!

The personal chef demonstrates with something that looks like a foot massager/plastic retainer from hell. You can even make the kissy face at yourself every morning. Evan doesn’t quite understand the concept of “before” and “after” pictures, as it’s just a whole lotta “after.”

After and After.

SPANX: “I think your device is reversing the aging process.” She’s on crack, don’t listen to her.
Pat points out that by pursing your lips, you’re exercising and toning the muscles in your neck and chin. Rejected by everyone, Evan decides to go peddle some Cream La Mer in the end.

Nick Smith thinks he’s so clever, tying in this show with a shoutout to another ABC reality snoozer: “Thousands are still waiting to show that their invention is the Next Best Thing.”

In the land of expensively ugly taste, we have Pat Croce’s magically color-changing shirt, everybody!

Now you see it —

Now you don’t!

New Yorker Jeff Miller spent $20K perfecting his invention. Mmm, should’ve put it into some mutual funds, buddy. This 57-year-old writer – wait, how does a writer have $20K just lying around? I’m a writer and I don’t get paid for any of the writing I do lately. In fact, I am making negative dollars as I type this. There. That was a quarter lost. Perhaps he’s got a sugar momma like the writer in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

The Squirrel Circus turns pests into performers and will end the war on terror, Jeff tells us. “Our yard is full of acrobats; all they need is a chance to perform.” It’s better than training flea-bitten rats who could be potentially carrying the plague, but marginally so. The Squirrel Circus is a backyard playset for Chip ‘N Dale, consisting of swings and ropes and corncobs. I’m sure it’ll coordinate nicely with your backyard furniture – if you live in a trailer park.

Kamikaze squirrels were a big problem at my school when I was in college, and I assume not much has changed in the year after graduation. Lush greenery, abundant trees, and nuts aplenty just weren’t enough for them – they wanted to get their kicks by propelling themselves off branches and into the spokes of your bike. Combine that with super-intelligent kids who can’t ride a bike to save their lives…and yeah. It wasn’t pretty.

What’s better than getting rid of the squirrels in your yard? Inviting them ALL over for a snack.

Jeff closes his pitch with this winning line: “I sold two of these to a psychiatric hospital in Idaho.”

British Man: “To the psychiatrist or the patients? Nuts. No.” Au revoir, Squirrel Circus!

We switch to Tampa, one of the world’s leading exporters of phosphates.

Marsia Tucci, 37, originally from Philadelphia, is a Dean of Students at Pornography University. She has not slept since 1995. “I had a breast augmentation and cannot sleep. There’s nowhere for these girls to go.” I cannot identify with this problem at all. Why can’t Chesty LaRue just sleep upright and rest her head on her boob shelf?

They probably cost as much as a Tempur-Pedic.

Her invention is a mattress that features breast support panels that are softer in density, so you can sleep face down and lock your torpedoes in some cushy quarters. Say goodbye to spooning.

I can just imagine the commercials on QVC now: “That’s right, ladies, just practice that corpse pose you’ve been perfecting in yoga, but as though you’re floating face down. In the pool. Drowning, despite those massive flotation devices you’re lugging around.”

Followed by the ever popular late-night knife infomercial: “It’s got a dragon on the blade. Right. On. The blade.”

Pat desperately wants to say yes to her tits. He air-grabs them:

George tactfully says , “You’ve come in and you look nice, but you didn’t try to impress us with that. You impressed us with this [motions to his head]. I say yes.” Then Chesty busts out a victory dance in which her ta-ta’s are absolutely motionless, and George quickly retracts his comment: “Now you went back the other way!”

SPANX says it must be a legitimate problem for larger breasted women and says yes. British Man can’t believe that she’s gotten that far, he can’t quite go there and gives her a no. “Holes in a bed for your breasts?”

Pat: Do you see mass appeal there?
George: Yeah, there are big women out there. And they’re getting bigger and they buy themselves bigger. Somethin’ like that. Next!

Speaking of sexual innuendo: Air Force plumber Rodney Skinner endorses Quickies. At least his t-shirt does. He’s created the Quickie mouth cleaner, for you know, your post-fellatio needs. Oh. And for when you’ve got plaque buildup.

“This idea will…will…um…” he stammers. Great presentation skills, this one.
“Clean your mouth?” supplies SPANX.

“Will it be digestable?” asks George.
“What happens if you accidentally swallow it?” chimes in SPANX.
“It’ll pass. You add a little brush to your tongue and you’re in business,” insists Rodney.

It’s like you’ve got a canker sore on your tongue.

“It’s not good at all,” British Man. No from George. “I worry about people swallowing it, so no,” says SPANX. Dirty! “No,” says Pat.

“I’m completely shocked,” Rodney says. He’s so perplexed with their lack of comprehension, I almost feel bad for him.

Tampa fails to deliver. Do I sense a recurring motif?

26-year-old Ben Hausbach claims that he’s taken IQ tests that make him a certified genius, top 1% in the country (perhaps that’s not saying much). Then why are you a table waiter? He must be an idiot savant. He’s also slightly reclusive, Emily Dickinson-style.

Well, he’s got the anti-social part down.

Wishful thinking, exhibit 1: “I see myself someday on the cover of every magazine…I want to be known as the modern day Einstein.”

Ben is a skinny, pale white guy, which is his first problem. He can’t even manage to tan properly, even with the aid of a tanning bed. Ben fails at life.

He’s betting his success on the “theory” that your skin turns orange after eating too many carrots. The more sophisticated explanation is that you can develop carotenemia or carotenodermia (yellow-orangish pigmentation of the skin from ingesting too much carotene from carrots and similar vegetables). Did you know you can technically overdose on carrots, because your body slowly converts carotene into Vitamin A?

George Foreman has no use for this color pill.

Wishful thinking, exhibit 2:
Pat: Do you have the pill?
Ben: I wish I did. But let me explain how it’s going to work.

“I know that a botanist can change the color gene of carrots, you can make them light brown, brown, green…beta carotene.”

So if I eat enough genetically enhanced brown carrots, will I lean like a cholo? Elbows up, bounce side to side, elbows up, bounce side to side – like a cholo! The song by Down, a.k.a. Kilo, promises that if “I’m brown, I get down.” LEAN LIKE A CHOLO!

But alas, I’m resigned to be like Nuprin: little, yellow, different. I tried finding an Anne Geddes photo of babies stuffed into carrot outfits, but the best I could do was this:

For a green pill, you can be a leprechaun for Halloween. Ben should have said the Invisible Hulk, because I really don’t see any leprechaun outfits flying off the shelves. It’s not as ridiculous as other inventions on this show, although it is pretty non-existent at the moment. This is a nation that Mystic Tans excessively and pumps Botox into their armpits to prevent sweating, after all.

“I’m starting to believe that you’re mad,” says British man. “No.”
The rest of the Gang of Four jump on the no bandwagon. It’s over!

Ben suddenly becomes effeminate in his post-rejection interview.

“Whatevah, they can’t get it, then they can’t get anything… whoever that English guy thinks he’s a lot smarter than everyone else is, and he can’t catch onto a simple idea and how it works…I didn’t get through and it’s not the end for me I’ve got, like, 78 more inventions.”

And then British Man comes busting through the door as Ben’s about to talk some more smack.
Awkward Turtle.

I suspect that British Man pees sitting down.

“You can call him the Donald Trump of England or whatever, I personally just call him a jackass.”

TAMPA HAS BEEN AN ENORMOUS LETDOWN, says Nick Smith. Hmm. And by Tampa you mean this entire show, right? Gah.

80-year-old Furney Eubanks has made the trek from North Carolina with his youngest son, Randy. A World War II veteran, he’s spent the last 58 years developing his idea.

An exercise in deciphering dialects:
“When youse folks go a’fishinnn, I go lookin’ for sumpin’ newwww to help mannnnnkind, so y’don’t have to work so as ‘ard to get the same job done an’ enjoy it morreee!”

And then I lose my ability to understand him at all, because his heavy Southern accent undulates in pitch, up and down – going up when I assume it’ll go down, and vice versa. It’s like listening to a grown up Forrest Gump with peanut butter in his mouth.

The gals at the nursing home think my mower’s sexy.

“Oh yeahhh…it’s Easy Mower! You slide back an’ forth, and drive it like ah’ car, and yer do dis and do that.” Man, he’s spry.

“He’s flirted with every woman here,” confides his son. What a pimp.
“Matters of fact, I like her! I think she’s pretty!” says Furney about SPANX. “I’m 80, an’ about fifteen on the inside!”

We’ve already had versatile lawnmowers on this show, but they like his pep and spirit. Everyone except British Man says yes. To have that kind of energy at 80? Thank Viagra.

You’re a Tampax, err, Tampa, finalist!

The American Dream continues.

Process operator Mike Kelly, 38, brought the Revolutions exercise machine. It uses counter-rotating motion to work the inner and outer thighs. “It means possibilities, my kids can get braces without financing the house. We can do the dreams. They don’t have to struggle.”

Glenda and Richard Jackson, 38 and 47, have everything including their life savings on the line. The dry your shoe holder has a high density magnet and plastic to keep your shoes from clanking around in the dryer.

Handyman Richard McFee has invented the Pop Up Party Table, which is nothing like Dick in a Box or Pinata Filled with Liquor. It lets you have several rising tiers to a table, wedding cake style. I am thoroughly disappointed.

“How would you feel if you got a yes?” George asks.

Dick McFee’s O-face.

“Oh God,” Dick says. “That’d be the third greatest moment of my life. The first is when my son was born, the second would be marrying my wife.”

Yes’es to everybody!

It’s a given that George can always envision the inventions selling like hotcakes, but British Man?

“I’m trying to find reasons to doubt the product and the sale of the produce, but I can’t,” admits British Man. He’s totally losing it.

Dick McFee also cops to going crazy, and then jumps into the lake.

Houston, we have a problem:

Mike and Joe Miller, both 59, are from the sleepy town of Sullivan, Missouri. They’ve built ever since they were little boys together, and have been working on their creation for six years.

Their invention is the food wrap dispenser called Wrapaway. It holds three rolls and had cutting edges so you can easily get your plastic wrap, wax paper, and aluminum foil using both hands. They demonstrate the model that fits under a kitchen cabinet.

“So you’ve invented a compartmentalized drawer?” snarks British Man.

“I did, a compartmentalized drawer would be this model here,” says Mike, producing a drawer version. The patent cost them about $20K, together.

“You’re both 59? Are you twins?” ask the judges.
“We’re not twins — we’re Catholics.”

The Pope forbids condoms, but Saran Wrap works in a pinch.

Their poor mom. Pat and George are charmed, but British Man flatly rejects it. SPANX thinks she would buy the attachment for the drawer, and says yes.

Call center Michael Osayi, 53, is originally from Nigeria. He’s spent 21 years and $11K on his invention. Scramblers 10 is Scrabble dressed up as Sudoku. You just take five number tiles and try to add up sums of 10 on the board. It matches Scrabble down to the silver bag the tiles come in.

Mickey (as his friends call him) plays the game of denial with Pat:

“Is this a ripoff of Scrabble?
“Scrabble is limited by language, numbers are universal.”
“Didn’t you just use numbers instead of letters?”
“It’s similar, but it’s a game of numbers.”
“On a board just like Scrabble, but it’s numbers?”
“It’s arranged on an existent theme, that’s all it is
“Is it legal?”
“I got my patent in Legos, Nigeria.”

A place where Scrabble most likely doesn’t exist.
“Please, get legal advice,” says Pat.
“I’m gonna be a champ with this game!” proclaims Mickey.

Watching Mickey insist that his game will be a hit is like watching a puppy get hit by a Hummer. In slow motion.

Back in Tampa Bay, Virginia Gentile thinks her creation will make her America’s next Inventress. Her off-the-shoulder dress reeks of Prom 1991, and it doesn’t help that she’s 60. Where’s my hair crimper?

It’s a magic act gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Virginia’s invention is a giant Tupperware container, but she calls it the “Pet Jacuzzi.” She places her adorable dog Sookie into the bin and snaps a lid with cutouts over her pet. Virginia insists that baby boomer dogs love it, that your hot tub jet can pump into the tub filled with bath bubbles.

In Korea, I believe this is dinner to go.

SPANX is about to vomit at the sight of this prom flashback, and asks why Virginia is wearing that getup. It’s just a gag to prove that you can wash your dog and stay pristine even while wearing ridiculously hideous dresses.

No’s from Pat, George, and SPANX. “I’m going to give you a no, I think it’s absolutely ridiculous, ” retorts British Man.

Next up is a tech support supervisor (for Dell, I’m assuming). His faithful assistant is his 5-year-old son Waleed, who helped with the gluing. His son does not appear to like him very much. “I integrated some of your toys into this, we’re a team,” says the dad.

Khaled Abusaif, 38, has created the Car Zoogler. A tracking device for women (and men) that gives you a visual indicator of where your car is. The problem of locating your car in a parking lot is solved…at the cost of looking stupider than an AzN tricked out rice rocket with a ginormous spoiler. It starts rising in the air at the touch of a button, to the ever-epic “Ride of the Valkyries.” Celebrity Jeopardy Sean Connery just called, and he wants his Penis Mightier back.

So THAT’s where Waleed’s slinky went.

Peter craps himself. “You think anyone will one of these things on their car?” he spits.

“I can see this thing taking off,” comments George. “Yes!” Hee.

But he gets a “snowballs’ chance in hell no” from Pat, British Man, and SPANX.

And then an inappropriate phallic moment. Waleed is handed the remote, and even a five-year-old realizes how wrong this looks:

Ah yes. Watching “American Inventor” is kind of like having pity sex with the world’s most predictable man. Only it takes an agonizing hour, not the usual six minutes.

Finally, the disappointing and mawkish climax you’ve been waiting for.
Carlos Reid, 44, is a builder who has much more at stake than just his own personal gain. In fact, he already has a super nice view of the beach from his house.

Life is so hard.

His aunt lost her house in Hurricane Katrina, a feeling Carlos could identify with because he lost his first home as a baby in diapers. He’s intent on building safe homes so that nobody else will have to go through that trauma.

Carlos’ invention is Rebuilding Blocks, shaped like giant Lincoln logs and Legos, to make houses indestructible. You stack the blocks, using glue and sand – you can even cover them with vinyl siding. Martha Stewart is cringing. He explains that plastics would burn before because they were made of hydrocarbons, but temperature-set plastics won’t melt.

“So your invention is the Lego House,” says British Man. Dude, have you ever seen a broken Lego? I wouldn’t be so quick to judge.

Carlos demonstrates his mastery of the program SolidWorks.

Merits of the Lego House:
* it’s cheap
* it’s strong
* it’s flood-proof
* it’s termite-proof
* it looks like this:

The housing market is really in a slump right now.

“Why are you doing this?”
“‘Cause of Katrina. I wanna be a hero.”

SPANX is impressed, because she hates termites. Yes. George votes yes. Pat likes the idea, but thinks it has too far to go – his usual excuse for saying no. I agree.

At this point, my mechanical engineer of a boyfriend points out that thermoset plastics must still cost a whole ton.

British Man is struggling to see how plastic hollow bricks are the next great invention. But Carlos is ready for him, lip quivering and everything:

“You could change the whole world, I mean, your children may never have a mortgage, if we can fix New Orleans, we can fix America. Let’s give them a home and a chance and a hope and give them an American dream. Let’s rediscover our dream, let’s liberate our children and let’s make it happen, be a hero, it’s a shot, nobody else is going to give you a chance in your life time — the world is waiting: Don’t quit, don’t give up, just go for it, we’ll change the world!”

The first time I heard the excerpt from Carlos’ “I have a dream” speech, I thought he was a member of NAMBLA.

Maya Angelou says: “That was too wordy to put on a Hallmark card, son.”

Cue dramatic music and timpani!

“You want to become a hero, I’m going to say yes and give you that chance.” British Man is on crack.
“We’re going to save the world, we’re going to change everything!” exults a triumphant Carlos, as his wife jumps into his arms.

“Isn’t that beautiful? They want to be a hero,” grins George Foreman.

This week’s episode was ghost-directed by Michael Bay.
We cut to the credits, which are accompanied this week by Dr. Phil’s doppelganger, a terrible white rapper. He’s surrounded by African-American guys who are trying to not to laugh.

While he makes a good effort, he’s not as legit as my friend John.

Next week: We are one week closer to another mass-produced invention that will be quickly forgotten after the show ends. How are the stakes higher than ever? I imagine the stakes remain the same, unless ABC amputates a limb from every contestant who doesn’t receive unanimous approval. If you’re flat out rejected, off with the arms and legs! If you get one yes, you lose an arm and an ear. If you get two yes’es you lose your right hand. If you get three yes’es, you lose only your pinky toe. Now that would be something to write about.

Is anybody out there? Bueller?

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