TV tirade

I hid the remote from the humans the other day. I've decided to call them the humans out of respect for my real parents; they were young and couldn't really raise all eight of us. Anyways, I hid the remote for the t.v. under my pillow and man, you should've seen them freak out. It's like they couldn't live without it, freaks. So after a half hour of frantic searching and cursing they find the thing and here we go again- same old, same old. I don't even know why they bother with all the four hundred channels they get when they really only use four. After trying to ignore the stupid noisy picture box I've started to notice a few things:
That English guy who cooks and swears, I think his name is Gordon Ramseed, he's quite a prick but I think he can't help himself and most of the time he's right on.
There's this show, Planet Earth, lots of furry freaks and some HOT felines...MEE-freakin'-OW..
I hate it when the blonde human wants to watch The National... zzzzzz, pillow please.
George Strombolopolus... nice name pal... he's a bit of a tool
Hockey rocks, but the smelly feet human has this loser team that never gets as happy as the other team... and what's with the freak in the jackets that make my sleepy blanket look sharp?
Survivor Man wouldn't stand a chance if I was out there and hungry. I agree though that plants taste awful and can make you puke.
Reality Shows? I mean really people. Maybe you should have a close look at your own lame reality.
Well, smelly feet's got the reggae on and the blonde one is playing with dirt again. They've put the laser beams on, but there seems to be a steady supply of food around so I'm good. Except they put my food in some goddam plastic ball, but that's another story. I'm outta here.