Viewers call into The Gorgeous George Show to insult its homophobic, scatologically-obsessed host Gorgeous George. George's rebuttals are usually ineloquent versions of "I know what you are, but what am I"--accusations that the caller has been sexually molested or has diarrhoea. This is never as painful to watch as one might presume, as Gorgeous George is: (1) Not charismatic enough to engender our sympathy; and (2) Cocky, self-assured, and very, very resilient. Without the prank calls, the tension built up by the show's rambling self-help monologues (blended with, in complete episodes, rambling comedic skits, rambling music videos, and interviews with people so lonely and emotionally-stunted that they'd guest on The Gorgeous George Show) might indeed be too much to bear.

Still, I find it difficult to fully resolve my feelings towards this. It's terrible, but in such a subterranean and atrophied fashion that it's sort of an alien experience. The insults don't really help: they're not very witty and they inspire Gorgeous George to come back with those strange rebuttals. No real communication has taken place--there remains this blockade between George and the viewer. And then there's the "Tribute to Sue" tacked on at the end of each episode. Sue is Gorgeous George's girlfriend in Las Vegas. The previous year, he had to bail her out of jail for possession of crystal meth. He then proposed to her and gave her a ring, which she sold to buy more meth. Yeah, but he clearly adores her and his tribute to her, backed by Elton John's "Something About the Way You Look Tonight" and interspersed with footage of George dancing in a pimp costume, is heart-breakingly pathetic.

Between taping these promo spots circa 1987, Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert ruthlessly attack one another on their competency in reading the teleprompter before the Jewish Siskel launches into a tirade about how WASPs "own everything" and "run the country." These outtakes have the same kind of heat as Uncle Don muttering "That outta hold the little bastards" into an open mike. Because Ebert is such an iconic figure in the world of film criticism, both easy to denigrate and awesome to behold, it's great fun to simply see him with his pants down. (This may be why the seemingly foolproof outtakes of "Full House", featuring Bob Saget and Dave Coulier making dirty wisecracks, never get off the ground. Since we've never respected these people in the first place, it doesn't mean much to see them disrespected.) But there is also an interesting bit of shock value to it. Ebert has a carefully-coifed public persona; one reviewer called him the "Santa Claus" of film critics, referencing not only his generosity in handing out praise, but also, I think, his harmless, teddy-bear cuddliness. Who woulda thought the old man had teeth?

I guess I'm enough of a moral relativist to reject the implied thesis of this 1998 video in which Palestinian children recite anti-Israel propaganda. It seems to be saying that the other side is especially evil, since they're corrupting children with their beliefs as opposed to the U.S. and Israel, who educate their children with, what, a balanced view of the Israel/Palestine conflict? As a satirical attack on black-and-white dogmatism in general, however, I find Kill the Jews to be deeply hilarious. It's similar to those bits on "The Daily Show" where John Stewart has kids read transcripts of "Hannity and Colmes," only it works even better. For one thing, the clip has a goofiness that Stewart, try as he might, could never duplicate--look at the image of that gap-toothed boy preaching, "How I suffer with chains imposed by the Jews." You acknowledge that the level of discourse never evolves beyond schoolyard chants while wincing a little at how hard the documentarians are putting the screws on you. The video manages to indict its makers along with their targets for oversimplifying a complex issue.

I have to admit, I laugh hysterically every time I watch Drive-by Insults. I think it's more of a laughing-at than a laughing-with, if that justifies my endorsement. The video consists of a car full of teenage boys screaming random insults at passersby like, "Nice blue shorts, you heathen fucker!" This is youthful stupidity at its most deliciously nonsensical. The prank is intrinsically nasty, but the green grass, bright sunshine, and use of Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Bad Moon Rising" on the soundtrack distract you from thinking it through that far. Besides, as far as cures for teenage boredom go, this is better than paint-balling bystanders or setting fire to opposums. From one wasteland to another, there is the not-nearly-as-exciting-but-perhaps-far-more-interesting Car Shootings in Iraq, in which British security contractors open fire on what appear to be Iraqi civilian automobiles. Parallels between this and Drive-by Insults are easily drawn: the Iraq we see here looks more like suburbia than like a barren desert and the use of Elvis Presley's "Mystery Train" gives it the feeling of a casual joy ride. No laughter or fun to be read on the part of the contractors, but at the very least the video depicts the act of war as so routine, dull, and deadening that it has to be livened up with a soundtrack.

Preaching the worthwhile message that "If you wouldn't get away with it here, then you shouldn't get away with it at home," this anti-domestic violence PSA from Home Front in Calgary, Alberta never fails to deliver a hard punch no matter how many times I see it. Illustrating its point through potent, Serling-esque absurdism, the ad is breezy but unflinching. Home Front was possibly inspired PETA's borderline brilliant "Fur is Dead" ad, but I'll be damned if they didn't actually improve on it. Brilliant piece of sinny, folks.

With the help of her friends, a college-aged girl has rubbing alcohol applied to her breasts then sets them ablaze. Her friends mention "Jackass" by name and indeed the stunt deserves to be mentioned in the same breath as that great series. This isn't just dumb shit, this is dumb shit that rises to the level of abstract art. Note that the video effectively duplicates a lost image from David Lynch's Blue Velvet and mirrors the title sequence of Miranda July's Me and You and Everyone We Know (where John Hawkes does the same trick, only on his hand and using lighter fluid). I don't know what it's saying, but it's brilliant! For some reason, watching people burn always results in an intriguing visual, as evidenced by the "Related Stuff" on offer from host COLLEGE HUMOR. My only caveat is that I wished it lasted longer, maybe gave us a slow-motion replay before the breasts are smothered with a towel.

Harmony Korine's Gummo was probably the first movie I ever saw that didn't aestheticize the poor as noble, but rather as alien. Korine applies his personal icon Werner Herzog's dictum of the universe being ruled by chaos to America's underclass: the actions of his characters are not governed by anything approaching rational thought and--from our perspective, at least--seem arbitrary and random. There isn't any common ground between us and them and so how is empathy possible? This video portrays a lisping, obese woman screaming at some skaters for taking "illegal photographs" of her. She says that she has her photo taken by photographers who use the photos to "get at people." She demands their cameras, film, and "calling cards." When one asks her if she is Aborigine (which would explain why she is opposed to having her photograph taken) she barks, "You've insulted me before." Our response is to laugh at this, I guess, but it's unnerving how evasive her mindset is. Why does she not want her photograph taken? How did she get like this? Why is she demanding their calling cards? The answers to those questions appear to be forever outside our grasp. There is no music and there are no opticals, it's all coldly clinical and objective. Luck would have it that this happened near the last bit of magic hour, giving the video an eerie, ephemeral quality that accents Crazy Lady's lizard-brained rantings. The video has a strange poetry to it.

A bunch of filmmakers from something called Kalamazoo Films meet a homeless man named Carlos. He tells them they should do a documentary on his people, the Homeless, before launching into Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean." They sing and dance along with him and then, off-camera (I later learned), give him the loose change they have in their pockets, which amounts to about two dollars. The video is hardly easy to watch: Carlos offers himself up for exploitation and these assclowns take him up on it. The final credit is brutally cruel, telling Carlos to remember them when he makes it big. Still, it's probably too easy to cluck our tongues at the Kalamazoo crew. Assuming that Carlos doesn't understand how he is being viewed hardly reflects well on us; Carlos' preamble suggests that, by dancing for quarters, he is in fact rubbing his homelessness in our faces and forcing us to acknowledge it. The video rather lucidly embodies the conundrum of minority representation in the media: is it better to be present and exploited or invisible and ennobled?

I fully understand if you don't want to check out this compilation of snuff footage--and I'll understand if you send me hate mail for viewing it and praising it as the year's "second-best Internet video." Should you decide to click the link, I can promise you that you won't necessarily be rewarded for it. The piece consists of a lot of relatively recent war footage (one of which is the iconic 1968 execution of Viet Cong Captain Nguyen Van Lem), car crashes, accidents, and suicides. The video's haunting centerpiece depicts a black teenager hugging his girlfriend goodbye as she gets into an elevator. As soon as the doors close and she ascends out of his life, he casually pulls a gun out of his coat pocket, puts the barrel in his mouth, and fires. Soon after, the editor just shows us stills of severed body parts, cynically serving up whatever it was we were looking for. This is all scored by Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb," which implicates us the audience through its chorus yet lends the footage a sadness that neutralizes any attempt towards hip detachment. Of course, the only thing worse than watching this video is not watching it. I'm of the opinion that there is nothing Man was not meant to know or see. Furthermore, one cannot fully conceptualize death, sacrifice, war, suicide, and the like until you get a good rat's-eye view of it. This video isn't easy to watch, but I believe it's a necessary rite of passage in any human being's visual education.

Finally, on a much lighter note, here is my favourite viral video of 2005: the Battle of Algiers-inspired water balloon commercial for Microsoft's Xbox 360. The backlash has already set in, but for the record I think it's brilliant. I can say without hyperbole that I like it better than any feature film I saw last year: it's a bundle of pure cinematic energy whose lack of notable subtext leaves little else for me to add but that it's a kinetic and vivid reminder of why I love movies in the first place.