TV Database South Park (1997)

And this is why South Park is the greatest animated series, period, bar none. Not even BoJack could match the sheer insanity, creativity, and most of all, audacity of South Park. The anime sequences were hilarious, but it's the amazingly crude and self-mocking lyrics that officially sealed this animated series as "The American Gintama", which pulled this kind of self-aware mockery on other anime while also imitating their artstyle all the time. lmao

And Jesus Christ, I believe this might have been the first time Stan and his friends were involved in an actual serious crime, not even a quirky or unrealistic prank, but a misdemeanor you could picture real kids being stupid enough to pull. You know you screwed up when Cartman calls you out on your act being screwed up, Kenny. lmao Poor Butters. I was actually as horrified by their acts as the kids.

Cartman at his absolute worst again, but at least he gets punished this episode.

Also, I love that they use "Push It to the Limit" for the training montage instead of something like "Eye of the Tiger" or "Gonna Fly Now", considering Scarface and its themes.

"In a negative review, Slate magazine's David Edelstein called it "a two-hour-and-six-minute snuff movie", and Jami Bernard of the New York Daily News felt it was "the most virulently anti-Semitic movie made since the German propaganda films of World War II"." - Wikipedia

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"Poe's Law" in its simplest definition is essentially that an extreme satire can be hard to be distinguished from a genuine expression. When "Passion of the Christ" was released back in 2004, I was a mere teenager who had not seen the film (nor will I ever), but even then, a Singaporean like me did hear rumors of how violent it supposedly was, and even my mum, the hardcore Christian, was disturbed.

So yeah, I could totally buy that many out there thought it's a snuff film. It's also very believable that the actually antisemitic Cartman would take the most extreme viewpoint from his experience of the film.

Poor Kyle though, having to hang out with a dick like Cartman and then ended up admitting he was right. At least Cartman got some great karmic vengeance (or should we say "divine interference") this time.

Every dance movie, ever. I love the playing of the tropes. It feels like Step Up meets 8 Mile meets Karate Kid (you could even hear a sample of "Lose Yourself" when Randy told Stan, "Give 'em hell, kid.").

And that ending is just classic South Park, because how else would the Orange County Crew get served?

As the Joker said, "YOU GET WHAT YOU F***ING DESERVE!" Finally, Eric Cartman got what's his, and Butters gets to win the day for once.

2004 wasn't a good time for Michael Jackson, or his many (alleged) molested victims. Eminem took a shot at him with "Just Lose It", and now Trey and Matt with this goldmine of an episode.

Though to be fair, South Park has always taken a shot at everybody, including racist cops, as exaggerated in this episode. This was 2004 too, so it shows you how little we've progressed as a society.

That final form of Michael here was creepy af too, but I love how it just ends with a "Heal the World" parody. Damn, you can't listen to anything without thinking about the (alleged) monster Michael was.

I guess an easy way to review this episode is to merely say "This was ahead of its time in terms of calling out the bigotry against those poor, helpless immigrants that our big bad government is oppressing," but that would feel disingenuous and ignoring the other parts of this episode where the left is roasted as well, or the fact that Stan Marsh kinda has a point about everyone having fewer employment opportunities, or the fact that the progressive Randy Marsh stopped being so anti-timecist as soon as it became inconvenient for him, faster than you can say... "DEY TURK ER JERBS!!!"

In Singapore, foreign employment issues is in fact a subject of debate as well, though granted, as a multicultural country, we are less inclined to voice our dissent as aggressively and keep it suppressed under a more civilized (read: performative) narrative. America is slowly catching up to us, but with the recent US election, that has admittedly taken a few more steps back.

But really, the important thing to examine here is that you shouldn't ask about domestic economics, you shouldn't worry about your job security (unless you like getting fired for being racist). No, instead, we need to do better, as Sam Wilson so eloquently put it, to make this a less hateful place and let those immigrants "TURK ER JEBS!!!" as you put it. Be more tolerant, people.

Jokes aside, I like how Trey and Matt actually offered a real solution at the end, that if only both sides would work together with the immigrants somehow (because America loooooves to play Uncle Sam and interfere in foreign policy, after all), there might just be a little less hate. But alas, people will remain their apathetic, self-entitled selves, disinterested in the latest activism as soon as it stops being trendy and just go for the easier and more convenient solutions. Like meme-ing "DEY TURK ER JEBS!!!" on Twitter.

Stan: "Wait a minute, you didn't want me to vote, you wanted me to vote for your guy!"

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It's kinda painful how relevant this episode is, even today. Gotta be honest, if my outsider perspective of American politics paints it as "Giant Douche vs. Turd Sandwich," that's not a good thing to be complacent about, accurate perspective or not (and going by the American comments and reviews of this episode, I'd say I'm more than half-right anyway).

Because just last year, in 2024, we had yet another presidential debate between former US president, Joe Biden and current president, Donald J. Trump, and it was a clown show full of aggressive rhetoric and what might as well be ad hominem, full of "you're despicable" instead of attacking the policies. I watched the debate hoping to be proven wrong, but it far surpassed my expectations, having the same kind of "You're a Turd Sandwich" absurdity that plagued our modern political discourse (especially in mainstream "journalism" like CNN and Fox News). The Kamala debate with Trump was a little better, less cross-talk and more focused on the policies from what little I could picked up (I didn't watch the whole thing), probably because they learned from the previous clown shows, but judging by the comments that mocked how much of an entertainment it still was, I probably missed all the good parts. Ah well.

Meanwhile, PETA is still around, 20 years after this episode aired. I don't know enough about them besides the claims of unethical and unnecessary euthanasia of animals, but I did see enough of their rhetoric to feel the hypocrisy of it all, not just the extremist views of animal rights over human ones. Singapore has SPCA, but it's less extreme and more like a pet adoption shelter, but our Singapore Zoo (which PETA would blindly protest against) is also more like a nature reserve, with documentaries featuring the zookeepers' close relationships with the animals, so take that as you will. I also support the notion that conservation is sometimes even necessary to prevent extinction and to protect endangered animals, so.

As for Diddy though? Racketeering, sex trafficking, allegations of sexual assault and grooming (including one Justin Bieber), not to mention all those "Freak Off" orgy parties of his. It's a whole laundry list of crimes, so the South Park parody of Diddy's "Vote or Die" campaign is far less absurd now than the actual reality.

I also particularly appreciate how Stan Marsh is usually the voice of reason centrist in all of this, just the Lisa Simpson of the show trapped in a town full of buffoons, and that includes Kyle the hypocrite who tried to gaslit Stan into voting for his party, a tactic you would see practiced by both sides of the political spectrum today. It always seemed absurd to me anyway how there's only two candidates for political elections, and how we always ended up griping about the flaws of both potential leaders but unwilling to do anything about the two-party system.

I would also like to take the chance to point out how I relate to Stan's centrist take, how you can't just see the flaws of both sides; you're forced to pick a side or you're painted as part of the problem. I consider myself a former liberal like Amala Ekpunobi, someone who voiced out against Trump's sexual harassment allegations and supported the "March for Our Lives" gun control movement after the '18 Parkland High school shooting, but sometime last year, I guess I just got fed up with all the performative vilifying from the left, disillusioned, if you will. That didn't mean I'm with those Turd Sandwich recaps either, but more leaning towards the party of rationality that doesn't subscribe to tribalism.

If anything, South Park (and Black Mirror) has proven this episode that reality is far more absurd than fiction, or as Jules Feiffer put it in 1959, "Satire doesn't stand a chance against reality anymore."

Living in Singapore, I’ve never experienced Walmart firsthand, but that’s hardly a barrier to appreciating this episode. Because despite the title, this isn’t really about Walmart—it’s about the machinery of late-stage capitalism. Specifically, how mega-corporate chains steamroll local mom-and-pop stores into oblivion. But then, by the end, it turns out even that isn't the core message.

What South Park ultimately exposes is something far more uncomfortable: we are the problem. The corporations don’t destroy small businesses alone—we enable it. Every time we chase a cheaper deal, every time we choose convenience over community, we’re feeding the machine. The show doesn’t bother with subtlety here—when a literal metaphysical Wall-Mart implodes into a steaming pile of corporate waste, it's pretty clear where they’re pointing the finger.

And let’s not kid ourselves: the reason we do it is simple—it’s practical. Of course we’re going to buy the cheaper item, even if it’s mass-produced in exploitative supply chains and shipped halfway across the world in plastic coffins. Bulk-buying economics 101. The show asks us to look in the mirror, and we kind of just shrug and say, “Yeah, but I needed pliers at 9:30 PM.”

Because the truth is, moral clarity dies the moment it inconveniences us. We won’t pay extra for local businesses. Hell, we won’t pay extra to slow climate change or stop deforestation. Why? Because it costs more, and we’re wired for short-term wins. And South Park, in its trademark style, makes damn sure we laugh all the way to the collapse.

While South Park is no stranger to dark humor and moral oblivion, “Preschool” stands out by taking a flamethrower to both—literally and figuratively. The episode opens with a surprising throwback to Stan and the gang’s preschool days, giving us a glimpse into their early sociopathy and solidifying once and for all that their capacity for betrayal and chaos isn’t a learned behavior—it’s congenital.

Though the episode’s title suggests we’re in for a full pre-K adventure, it’s really just a springboard flashback that sets the vengeful tone. And what a tone it is. Miss Claridge's fate—which combines 1960s sci-fi homage with one of the most grotesquely over-the-top gags in the show’s history—is the kind of thing only South Park could pull off without blinking. Yes, the Star Trek parody is hilarious. Yes, it’s also messed up beyond repair.

The real joy comes from watching the boys—eternal masters of bad decisions—try to dodge responsibility for their childhood crimes while the town’s population of teenagers prove once again that puberty and intelligence are mutually exclusive in this universe. The sixth graders are the pinnacle of that dumb, hormonal chaos, duped by arguably the stupidest decoy ever put to paper.

And then there’s Shelly, Stan’s ever-volatile older sister. Her role as backup muscle once again toes the line between protective sibling and domestic war criminal. South Park’s writers always seem to write her with this strange mix of violent wrath and twisted nobility—and honestly? It works.

Ultimately, “Preschool” is a great reminder that no one learns a damn thing in South Park, and that's exactly why we watch. It’s not about lessons—it’s about watching karma miss its mark like a drunk sniper, and chaos mop up the rest. Not one of the show's most iconic episodes, but solidly funny and character-rich.

It’s an old hat for South Park to take a jab at mainstream journalism—especially the kind of jab that, by 2025, has aged like prophetic whiskey. There's a real story here to be mined, a sharp dissection of how media chases spectacle over substance, trading facts for fear, integrity for ratings, and news for whatever keeps the dopamine flowing.

The episode starts strong, setting its sights on the absurdity of school news shows mimicking adult media's worst habits: fake danger, celebrity gossip, forced representation, and of course—dancing pandas. It's classic South Park satire: sharp, irreverent, and uncomfortably close to real-world behavior.

But halfway through, the focus shifts. Instead of building on the media critique, it veers into a self-aware parody of the writing process itself. The satire gives way to self-inflicted mockery, where the boys' struggle to come up with ideas mirrors Trey and Matt’s own creative exhaustion. It’s funny in places, sure, but it doesn’t go anywhere. The narrative drops its scalpel and picks up a bottle of cough syrup—and from there, it’s all fractals and fatigue.

By the end, the episode isn't so much finished as it is abandoned. What could’ve been a tight, vicious dissection of media ends up shrugging its shoulders and saying, “Eh, let’s just bail.”

It’s clever, it’s chaotic, and it starts with promise—but in the end, it fizzles out like a bad high. Still, when the panda bears dance, the ratings soar. And maybe that’s the point.

This is one of those South Park episodes that aged like a banana dipped in formaldehyde—still recognizable, still potent, but with a distinct whiff of "yikes" clinging to some of the edges.

As a Singaporean Chinese man who didn’t grow up steeped in the American celebrity cesspool of the early 2000s, Paris Hilton was more a pop culture rumor than a real figure to me. I never watched The Simple Life or whatever show she was on. I didn’t hate her. I didn’t worship her. She was just this attractive blonde woman floating around in tabloids and gossip sites I didn’t care about—attractive enough, sure, though my tastes always leaned more toward tanned skin and less toward vodka-soaked nihilism. Her aesthetic? Okay. Her attitude? Just not it.

And when the episode is literally about the word “whore,” we kinda have to address the topic, don’t we? Personally, I’ve got zero interest in slut-shaming. I’ve had more solo sessions with porn than I can count—and no, not the missionary-position-with-eye-contact kind either. So no moral high ground here. I’ve explored the world of sexuality as much as anyone with an internet connection and a locked door.

But even with all that, I never found promiscuity sexy. Not once. I didn’t grow up idolizing girls who made sex their identity. I grew up watching Kim Possible flip-kick henchmen with confidence and a smirk, Barbara Gordon outwit criminals, and The Powerpuff Girls drop truth bombs with their fists. Confidence was attractive. Compassion was attractive. The idea that raw sexual exposure alone could equal appeal? That always felt hollow to me. Like trying to fill a hole with glitter.

That’s why this episode’s core message holds up like a concrete pillar in a collapsing pop culture house. Because since it aired, things didn’t cool off—they escalated. What was once parody—little girls pretending to be porn stars with toy playsets—became real life on platforms like OnlyFans and Twitch. Sexuality isn’t just commercialized now—it’s gamified, streamed, and crowdfunded. The satire became prophecy.

And it also predicted the weaponization of double standards. The episode calls out how women began adopting traditionally “toxic male” behaviors—catcalling, objectifying, boasting—and wrapped it in the banner of “empowerment.” And society, ever spineless, applauded it. Because apparently if it’s done in high heels, it’s feminist now. A man says “I’d hit that,” and he’s a creep. A woman says “I’d gargle his marbles,” and it’s liberation. That hypocrisy? This episode hits it like a sledgehammer.

And if you question that logic? If you dare to say “maybe this isn’t great for kids”? Boom—you’re a misogynist. Branded. Dismissed. Cast out. That label’s been weaponized so hard, even people with no issue with women being confident, sexual, or independent—like myself—get lumped in. I don’t hate women. I don’t want to silence them. But I don’t applaud stupidity wrapped in empowerment packaging either. You want to party and live wild? Go for it. Just don’t sell it to 12-year-olds like it’s a life plan.

Worse still, this warped idea of “liberation” has become a tool for ideological grooming, particularly among certain self-appointed "trans activists" who seem obsessed with guiding children toward their “true” sexuality—before the kids even know how taxes work. It’s not about helping confused youth; it’s about projecting adult fixations onto children and then gaslighting anyone who objects as “phobic.” The same people who screech about the dangers of gender stereotypes will then cheer for drag queens doing split-thrusts in elementary school libraries. You can’t say “let kids be kids” anymore without being accused of trying to erase someone’s identity—when all you’re really trying to erase is the predator logic that children should be sexual beings at all.

But here's where the episode pivots into a thornier territory.

For all the sharp commentary and cultural x-rays, there’s an undeniable ugliness to how the episode singles out Paris Hilton as the human punching bag. Satire thrives on exaggeration, but here… it curdles. Trey and Matt didn’t just parody her—they dehumanized her. In their commentary, they flat-out admit it: “F*** Paris Hilton,” and “She’s a dumb bitch.” That’s not satire. That’s not critique. That’s personal venom served as entertainment.

And that leaves a bad taste. Not because Paris is some untouchable icon, but because there’s a difference between mocking stupidity and mutilating someone for sport. I'm not here to protect the feelings of the rich and famous—but I also don’t think entire episodes should be designed to dismantle a real person’s humanity. That’s not comedy. That’s cruelty with a laugh track.

So yeah. This episode is sharp. It’s uncomfortable. And it hits some cultural nerves that deserve to be hit. But it also spirals too far into bile, too far into mean-spirited spectacle. It says something true—but sometimes, it says it with a mouth full of poison.

Overall, the episode is worth watching once. But not without side-eye.

There’s a long, bizarre history in pop culture where psychics and law enforcement team up to solve crimes. From The Dead Zone to Medium to pretty much every “special guest” episode of any mid-2000s procedural, the trope of the psychic detective has been used to lend an otherworldly edge to criminal investigations. The psychic always “sees things” no one else can. The cops are always skeptics... until they're not. And somehow, we’re supposed to accept that someone waving their hands around and getting headaches near crime scenes is legit.

South Park, in all its chaotic wisdom, saw through the nonsense—and Cartman’s Incredible Gift takes a psychic chainsaw to it.

As opposed to the more theme-heavy episodes from this season like Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset or Something Wall-Mart This Way Comes, this one’s a straight-up gag episode. It leans hard into spoof territory, with direct nods to The Dead Zone and Silence of the Lambs. That means you’re not getting the sharpest social commentary here, but what you do get is pure, unfiltered absurdity. And it’s glorious.

The real genius of this episode isn’t just in how it skewers psychic detectives—it’s in how brutally it exposes the real joke: the cops. It’s not that the serial killers are brilliant masterminds; it’s that the cops are hilariously, staggeringly dumb. Their unwavering belief in Cartman’s “visions” (which are just him describing the snacks he’s craving) is peak South Park cynicism. They don’t solve crimes through deduction—they just chase the loudest kid in the room with the dumbest theory and a black eye.

And then there’s the psychic battle scene. My God. If you ever want to see what it looks like when grown adults LARP with invisible magic powers and dead-serious expressions, this is it. The goofy hand gestures. The sound effects. The strained, concentrated faces like they’re constipated Jedi. It’s the most hilariously pathetic display of ego and delusion—and it’s perfect. Watching Cartman out-mindfreak these grifters in what amounts to a playground argument is the kind of satire only South Park can land.

If there’s a critique, it’s that this episode doesn’t hit the same cultural nerve as some of the season’s standouts. It’s not aiming for moral panic, social collapse, or economic critique—it’s just poking fun at idiocy. But honestly? Sometimes that’s exactly what you need.

So no, it may not be an all-timer. But as a razor-sharp takedown of the psychic detective trope wrapped in a fat-suit noir, Cartman’s Incredible Gift delivers the laughs—and maybe a little uncomfortable truth about how easily the dumbest ideas get taken seriously when people are desperate for answers.

I hate Christmas specials. They're always the same nauseating sludge—overly sanitized, painfully hokey, and more saccharine than a Hallmark marathon overdosing on nostalgia. In fact, I’d argue most Christmas media makes the average woke film look subtle and nuanced, which is really saying something. For years, I forced myself to go through the motions: watch the same tired movies, spin the same overplayed songs, hoping to conjure that “holiday spirit” like some seasonal exorcism. But the truth is, most Christmas content just isn’t good. It’s hollow, obligatory, and creatively bankrupt.

Enter South Park. Bless their depraved little hearts—finally, a Christmas special that doesn’t just buck the trend, it drags it into the woods and ritualistically guts it. Woodland Critter Christmas is the kind of unapologetic, blood-soaked antidote I didn’t know I needed. It takes the most cloying clichés of “cute forest animal” Christmas specials and gleefully twists them into a demonic fever dream. And I mean that in the best way possible.

Growing up Christian Methodist with the occasional drag to Sunday school, I managed to shed the dogma early on in my teen years. So when a show decides to playfully eviscerate religious allegory dressed in storybook fluff, I’m more than happy to watch the sparks fly, especially when those woodland critters—designed like something from a twisted PBS fever dream—turn out to be not quite as innocent as they appear. The predator in the story being the actual symbol of salvation? Brilliant reversal. It’s the kind of thematic whiplash that feels more Wild Thornberrys gone satanic than anything else, and it works.

And then there's Cartman. Without spoiling anything, let’s just say that when you realize who’s behind this chaos, it all clicks. His fingerprints are smeared across every depraved turn: antisemitism, gleeful bloodlust, and an uncomfortable amount of focus on infant mortality. The pro-abortion bit? Oh, it's there. And it lingers just long enough to make even the most jaded viewer raise an eyebrow. Because of course Cartman would be behind something that deeply chaotic and casually vile.

To be clear, this episode isn’t deep. It doesn’t really say anything—it just smears the Christmas cheer in blood and entrails. And that’s fine. According to the creators, this episode was cranked out at the tail-end of a hellish production year, and it shows in the best way. It’s chaotic, messy, and has the energy of someone saying, “Screw it, let’s just make a satanic Christmas special and go home.” And yet, that devil-may-care attitude somehow works. It doesn’t need to be profound—it just needs to be South Park.

It’s not their smartest satire, but damn if it isn’t one of the most hilariously unhinged. Woodland Critter Christmas doesn’t restore your faith in the holidays—it burns the nativity scene to the ground and toasts marshmallows over the flames. And honestly? That’s the most festive I’ve felt in years.