To give you an idea of how bad it was, Dirty Jobs was featuring an episode in which Mike Rowe was helping exterminators clear out a massive insect infestation at a church. I found that less uncomfortable to watch.
The hell of it was, I actually liked the Geico cavemen in the commercials. I thought the commercials were amusing (I'm both easily amused and distracted). But even I knew that such a thinly running premise wasn't going to work in prime time. In fact, I think the only people who weren't aware of that fact were the people who put that piece of unmitigated excrement on the air.
Now I have to go nip off and shoot myself, because I just wrote a goddamned journal entry about fucking Cavemen.
Trust me, if you ever feel the need to watch Cavemen, do yourself a favor and just go and snort meth out of the ass crack of Tom Cruise instead. At least that way, when you wake up with blood shot eyes, a parched throat, a sore anus, and L. Ron Hubbard's phone number carved into your forehead, you can get unsteadily to your feet, go to your mirror, look into your own DNA-encrusted face, and say in a loud, steady voice: "Well, I didn't watch Cavemen last night! Now, off to find a cup of coffee and a moist wash cloth." And you could walk away with a jaunty spring in your step.
*What? Too soon? I guarantee she's beyond caring.**
**I'm writing this while in the final stages of almost terminal exhaustion, so if I cross the line, please feel free to use on me the riding crop and cat 'o nine tails hung within easy reach next to the door for your convenience.