I gather Eric Perkins won this partially for playing tennis for 36 straight hours for a charity. Could NBC put him on this task indefinitely?

Like almost everyone, I hate NBC for their inept and insulting Olympics coverage. I want to see world-class athletes from not just the U.S. competing in real time every second I look at a screen, not commentators making small talk and making observations that a three-year-old child could state from looking at the television: “She fell down!”

I don’t want to hear how inarticulate the U.S. girl gymnasts (watch the interview, they’re not women) are in interviews with the banal, unqualified Ryan Seacrest. The network wants to show us, “Hey, these are just girls like your kids.”

But they’re not. They’re elite athletes who’ve foregone the better part of most kids’ childhoods to make the Olympic team. Don’t show me how they’re like the girl next door.

Show me how they’re not.

Just when I think that NBC cannot sink lower with with drivel from Matt Lauer and Meredith Viera, we have a local Minnesota correspondent to help us vicariously experience London and the Games. In the Twin Cities, that means our NBC affiliate KARE-11 has sent its sports director over – once again – to behave as an obnoxious, ignorant tourist and deliver what someone somewhere considers to be laffs.

Instead of presenting us with Olympic contenders as the girls next door, Eric Perkins insists that you take the trip to London along with him as a regular Joe.

Why can’t we send someone exceptional who will show us he is not a regular Joe? I don’t want jokes from a very, very unfunny sportscaster. I want a constant feed of information that I don’t already know or can’t plainly see being played out in front of me.

Please take this sample of his sportscaster comedy routine and time how long it takes you to cry uncle.

Instead of laughing, I am hurling hateful epithets and invectives at the screen. This is why I do not watch local news. How could such an onscreen idiot be a leader at a network station? Worse still, is he really reflective of his audience?

Do they think this joke is funny?:

“What happens if I stand by the top of that big clock, Big Ben, and ask, what time is it?”

Well, I watched the local news, heaven help me, and that’s just what he did, over and over and over, humiliating the United States with his stupidity set on repeat – a nauseating attempt at the American everyman on the street of London. “Do you know what time it is?” People look at their phones or watches instead of Big Ben. Then Eric Perkins looks at the camera in disbelief at what we’re asked to view as the dumbness of the pedestrians in his pathetic prank.

That’s the joke. We have reached the Idiocracy “Oh, my balls!” moment before, but now it’s sticking.


This is this dipshit’s fifth time to go to the Olympics. Maybe he does know sports, but there’s no hint of it here. And maybe he knows his audience, which is upsetting to me, because then the audience is as stupid as he comes off as.

He’s purposefully disseminating and even escalating the foreign assumption that Americans celebrate ignorance and idiocy. In fact, if he’s who we send to five different Olympics, we’re even rewarding it.

Londoners for Eric Perkins: He could also have an encounter with Luther‘s Alice. I’ll bet she mixes a mean drink.

A professional sportscaster who takes world-class athletic competition seriously deserves to be the correspondent. And I deserve to have a viewing experience that does not force my mind into the dark place, this time an irrepressible, unfortunate scenario with Eric Perkins practicing his idiot American tourist routine whilst stepping into the wrong alley of London, popping out some line in his supposedly comical British accent like, “Oh dear, a hooligan!” before one of the more twisted psychopaths from Luther pulls his own trick with something shiny, sharp, and silver, and then slips Perkins’ slippery, still warm vocal cords into a jar labelled “American.” I don’t want Perkins to die; I want him to irretrievably lose the power of speech.

I know, it’s horrible. But it’s Eric Perkins’ only chance to make me laugh.