Don LePre, Get Out of My Head (and take the little steamers with you)

For those of you blessed with 57 channels and an expensive new bird roost on your roof, allow me to share what you're missing on broadcast television at one o'clock in the morning. There are people steaming things, people using ladders as origami performance art, people learning how to sniff out desperate homeowners, and one very enthusiastic 35 year old Eagle Scout selling the GREATEST...VITAMIN...in the WORLD! It's a movable feast of electronic hucksterism. But wait, there's more. If you read this in the next ten minutes, I'll knock off one paragraph absolutely free.

When I was a child, I knew the broadcast day had come to a halt when an old grainy film of the Star Spangled Banner would play and an Indian's face appeared on a test screen. No more Hoolihan and Big Chuck for this cowpoke, time for bed. That farewell signal has now been replaced by an informercial showing people steam stuff. When they break out the steamers, my television has officially died.

My thoughts on the steam cleaning craze are similar to ones I had back in the days of the Water Pik. All that water has to go somewhere, but they never showed shots of Water Pik users looking for a place to spit or drown. Sure, scalding hot steam will clean even the most stubborn dirt (or essential caulking or adhesive), but steam also becomes water again. Steam cleaner users now have puddles of filthy water around their hardboiled countertops and sinks. I'm surprised they don't offer absorbent terry cloth towels for just a few dollars more. My personal theory is that the steam cleaners should be free but burn cream will cost three easy payments of $33.35.

Then there's the newest addition to the soft-core exercise video market. I kid you not, welcome to the jiggly world of Yoga Booty Ballet. That's right, I said booty. Booty, booty, booty. Not content to exploit the ancient torture test of yoga or the classic artistry of ballet, this video addresses the seriously underreported world of the booty. Exercisers begin with a satisfying and artistic yoga pose, then gracefully segue in a classic series of refined ballet stretches. Each routine ends with a jarring version of 'Can't Touch This' and a series of finger points and neck rolls which fairly scream "Oh No, he DI'INT!" and "You Best be Steppin' Off!" Watch the pounds drop off yer booty.

I'd thought I'd seen everything on latenight television, but a few months ago I saw an ad for a ear drying machine. I used to own an ear drying machine myself, but I called it a Q-Tip. Apparently my water-soaked ears are prime candidates for all sorts of nastiness unless I order the weakest hair dryer in the world in the next 30 minutes. Now this is where marketing genius takes over. In my head, I had a retail price of MAYBE $14.95. An ear expert with only a dream and an informercial needs to eat too. The announcer started out with that first price, which you just know is a blowoff. $99.95. A hundred dollars for an electronic ear blower. To sweeten the deal, the manufacturer offered four additional ear pieces. Ear-drying party at my house- we'll all be color-coded. The announcer then generously offered to reduce the price by one payment- now we're down to 66 bucks. Here was a problem I didn't know I had, solved by a product I didn't know existed, and priced to move. Genius, pure genius.

It's not so bad, though. At least I have a case of the World's Greatest Vitamins to keep me healthy, from my dry ears to my righteous booty.