Hey, Fellow Babies!
As a kid I didn't actively listen to the radio very often but whenever it was on in the background, it always seemed to proffer some sort of auditory revelation. For example, I distinctly remember half-hearing the Peter Gabriel tune "Games Without Frontiers" on the radio back in 1980 and promptly becoming obsessed with it.
Ironically, it was television that really piqued my childhood interest in radio. Even as a ten year old kid I had an inexplicable fascination for the following show:
Cripes, even people who were adults in the 70's probably don't remember that particular nugget of pop culture flotsam.
Hello, Larry was a sitcom that aired for two inexplicable seasons on NBC, back when the station's call letters stood for "No Body's Choice". It centered around the life of Larry Alder (penitent M.A.S.H. deserter McLean Stevenson), a divorced radio talk show host who leaves L.A. for the greener pastures of Portland, Oregon (?).
Right from the start, Hello, Larry embodied every lame sitcom cliche: bland characters, contrived plots and broad attempts at "humor". Whenever I'd ask my parents if I could watch it they'd scoff and respond with "Why? That stupid show is too foolish to talk about!" Late night czar Johnny Carson took frequent and merciless pot-shots at the beleaguered sitcom during his Tonight Show monologues. Despite the critical drubbing and virtually non-existent ratings, NBC actually renewed it for a second season (which really says a lot about the sad state of the network at the time).
In a vain effort to staunch the hemorrhaging exodus of viewers, the producers shifted their focus away from Larry's time at the radio station to his mundane home life. As a discriminating critic, I positively despised these changes and immediately stopped watching. In losing their one and only dedicated supporter, Hello, Larry also lost its raison d'être and it was cancelled not long after.
But, man, I loved that first season, which mainly featured Larry attempting to deal with his insane co-workers at the radio station, all the while heaping abuse upon the weirdos calling into his talk show. So enamored was I of this concept that I promptly co-opted my Dad's tape recorder and invented my own radio station, appropriately named C.R.A.P.
I took the high-concept core of Hello, Larry and cross-pollinated it with sketch comedy shows like S.C.T.V. and Newfoundland's very own Wonderful Grand Band. To ensure that my own good name would never be linked to such lunacy, I invented an on-air persona named Larry Lovebug. Okay, so I wasn't the most creative kid in the world.
Originally a parody of the classically smarmy "RADIO VOICE", my Larry eventually morphed into an über-hostile version of the McLean Stevenson character. He became a narcissistic, abusive jack-hole who held the other shows in open contempt and constantly bitched about the overall sorry state of the station.
There were several regularly scheduled programs on C.R.A.P., including a parody of Phil Donahue's talk show called The Phil Interview Show. There was a darkly humorous (?) recurring skit about an old woman who experiences incessant bouts of cardiac arrest and the eternally on-call medical team tasked to aid her. I staged elaborate radio plays featuring my Star Wars, Buck Rogers and superhero action figures. I had an ongoing horror series about explorers raiding the tomb of a restless undead mummy which spawned no less then four sequels!
Only my closest friends or my poor long-suffering parental units would ever be witness to this lunacy. If we went on a road trip, I'd take my tape recorder along, much to the delight of my Mom and Dad. Occasionally I have re-enforcements in the form of my equally loopy cousins Debbie and Donna. Together we'd invent all sorts of zany characters and ridiculous shows, half of which seemed to be populated or hosted by stuffed animals.
Stephenville's own home-brew radio station / comedy gold mine C.F.S.X. was a frequent target for my sophmoronic wit. I mercilessly spoofed the station's community events calendar via What's Goin' On? (hosted by the eternally enraged Suzie Seasick), poked fun at the Day & Ross Road Report (read by the barely-conscious Merry Dowdie), and parodied their daily radio market place show Teleshop (which I wittily re-christened as Teleslop, har de har-har).
As great as all of this high-brow humor was, the concept really took off when I first laid eyes on this classic show back in 1981:
Being only eleven or so at the time, I didn't quite get all of the subtle humor and innuendo on W.K.R.P., but I certainly fell in love with the characters and the music Johnny and Venus played. This new data had a direct impact on my own enterprise. Larry's last name became the infinitely more respectable "Drake", the format was switched from talk to modern pop and the station's call-letters changed from C.R.A.P. to C.F.A.P. Which, in modern parlance, really isn't an improvement.
In order to facilitate the playing of music, I acquired a second tape player. Whenever I wanted to introduce a song (usually from a K-Tel tape like "Right On", "Hit Express", or my own personal favorite "Star Tracks") I'd cue it up on the second player and then un-pause it when I was ready to roll. This allowed me to blabber inane bullshit right up to the point when the lyrics began, just like a real D.J.!
Honestly, when you're twelve year old kid and figure this shit out, you feel like a friggin' savant!
I hit a metal phase in 1982, prompting a change in the music format. Larry became a minor character and full-time foil for a new, hip D.J. named "David" (okay, imagination really wasn't my strong suit). Although I'd sneak in the odd "retro" comedy bit or original radio play amongst all of the Ozzy Osbourne, Iron Maiden and Judas Priest, all I really wanted to do was play pretend D.J. for music that I would never hear on the radio. By the time I turned thirteen, I'd outgrown my fictional radio station and C.F.A.P. promptly went out of business.
It's a pity that some teacher or authority figure didn't discover my crazy secret broadcasting career. If only I'd had the chance to funnel some of this unrefined yet manic energy into something productive like a High School drama class. Oh, wait, our lame-ass High School didn't have a friggin' drama class...scratch that.
Nearly a decade later, the following movie rekindled my interest in radio:
Since we only got a half-way decent radio station here in Halifax just last year (in the blessed form of Live 105), the idea of starting up a pirate radio station has always been kind of attractive to me. Although I have no desire to wax philosophical on the air like Mark Hunter in Pump up The Volume or Chris Stevens on Northern Exposure, I would certainly liked to have heard The Pixies, Sonic Youth and Soundgarden on the local radio over the past twenty years.
So, for the first time in almost three decades (*Yikes!*), I'm hosting a radio show courtesy of modern techmology and the Internetz. Ive long since traded in my dual tape players for a single digital audio recorder. My old, now-distorted analog magnetic tapes have been replaced by a massive CD collection rendered through my iPod. And thanks to the magic of Audacity and Internet Archive, I can finally have listeners beyond the poor bastards within earshot of me.
Pleeze lissun if you wantz:
EPIC Thank God, Vishnu, Crom, Zeus, Odin and Lemmy for internet radio.
FAIL This show was a friggin' abomination. And I liked Hello, Larry, fer Chrissakes!
Showing posts with label WKRP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WKRP. Show all posts
Friday, April 20, 2012
Monday, April 4, 2011
State of the Union
Hello, Curious Onlookers.
It's nearly impossible for me to conceive that it's been a full year since I tendered my resignation at my last place of employ. Honestly, I know I've kept busy and all but this time has flown by like a three-day weekend in Vegas.
So, with a full twelve months now in my rear-view mirror, I suppose I'm due to compose some thoughts of affirmation if only to convince myself that the time is well-accounted for, the decision was sound and I made the right call.
Too bad that, even after doing so, the jury's still somewhat out.
First off, here's some evidence for the defense; a listing of all the things I certainly wouldn't have done had I stayed the course this time last year:
Seriously, folks, it's great and all that I've self-published a book, but c'mon. If a tree falls in the forest and that tree is debarked, chipped, washed, bleached, beaten, refined, screened, pressed, dried, printed, made into paper then my book is printed on it and no-one reads it does it justify killing that poor tree in the first place?
Although the E-book is selling better then I expected, I got a loooooong way to go to move the ten-thousand copies that I believe will be needed to grab a traditional publisher by the lapels and yell with some authority: "Hey! Pay attention to me!" Unless I can do some pretty miraculous single-handed promotion for it over the next few months (or enter into a Faustian arrangement with dark forces for immediate financial stability), I'm afraid that it's gonna be all for naught.
I won't lie to you folks, I miss the endless wellspring of cold-hard cash. I did save a ton of money before telling my last employer to cram it with walnuts and I've tried to be very frugal over the past year. I really don't buy a ton of stuff, just the odd book, Blu-Ray, CD, movie/concert ticket, decent meal or board/video game.
Thank the Maker that I don't have expensive tastes. Mercifully my particular brand of mid-life crisis doesn't seem to involve splashy sports cars, powerboats, motorcycles, phat palatial mansions, hair plugs or bottles of cognac. Well, at least not yet.
No, honestly, the only real thing that I truly miss is the absence of travel in my life over the past two years. My last two trips (Scotland and Ireland in 2008 and London in 2009) were life-altering. I wanted to go AWOL at the time and now I'm desperate to go back. I want to tour the English countryside and poke around in Wales, one of my two ancestral places of origin. I want to spend at least half a month in France, Italy, Germany, Spain and Greece respectively. But given the current state of the union, I have no clue when I'll be able to do this again.
The net result: Happy Dave is starting to run out of happy...
Not to mention having to eschew those things that most people take for granted. Since I constantly felt like walking off the job for about five years before I finally pulled the trigger, my life in general has been in a holding pattern. No house, no kids, no major investments. Hell, I can't even ponder replacing my venerable, ole' 2003 Corolla, who, like it's owner, is gettin' kinda long in the tooth. I feel like I'm in limbo.
I dunno, maybe that's just the way it's supposed to be. Maybe that's the lot in life for most jobbers on this wacky planet. Perhaps all we're really supposed to do is toil away at some thankless, anonymous enterprise, trying to rake in as much coin as possible while occasionally eking out small blips of happiness between stretches of repetitive dreariness.
Some days I feel like I'll never be able to generate the sort of scratch I was making at my last job by doing creative things, things that I'm actually good at and feel happy doing. Right now I'm trying not to do the employment equivalent of jumping out of the frying pan and into the flash fryer. The jobs I'm applying for are gigs that I think I'm well-suited for and with companies that seem to enjoy a positive reputation for trusting and nurturing their employees.
If I can help it at all, I don't want to say the following words to a stranger ever again...
"Hi, thanks for calling (insert name of crappy call center employer here), my name is David. How can I debase myself today for your edification?"
I don't want to do it anymore because I honestly believe in my heart of hearts that I'm better then that. It's a waste of my unique (if decidedly modest) talents. It's not what I'm supposed to be doing with my life.
I know, I know. Eighty percent of humanity can probably make a similar claim.
Was this whole thing set off a year ago for the right reasons? Did I leave work because it was slowly killing me? Was it just because I was bored? Was it due to the fact that conditions were getting worse every year and no-one I talked to gave a crap about making it better? Was it to pursue ventures that I would never have gotten around to had I stayed the course?
Or did I leave because of some kind of midlife crisis? I hate to think that anyone would make a decision just because hair stops growing in places where it's supposed to and begins to seek out brave and creative new avenues.
But could it really have been something so shallow?
I'm hoping this debate winds down a bit when the demo copy of my book arrives in the mail sometime over the next week or so. Or I hope the parley is instantly silenced when someone of power and/or influence reads this blog, sees something with promise and decides to grant me some semblance of a palatable future.
Because just as sure as Dr. Johnny Fever refused to play disco tunes at W.K.R.P, I can't do call centers any more.
I'd rather sell vacuum cleaners door-to-door.
Mike Fright, Part 1 by giebergoldfarb
Johnny's rant @ the 4:40 mark here is priceless...
Mike Fright, Part 2 by giebergoldfarb
FAIL: I'd say #2 was a tell, but the job really did suck...
http://personaltao.com/taoism-library/midlife-crisis/signs-of-a-midlife-transformation/
It's nearly impossible for me to conceive that it's been a full year since I tendered my resignation at my last place of employ. Honestly, I know I've kept busy and all but this time has flown by like a three-day weekend in Vegas.
So, with a full twelve months now in my rear-view mirror, I suppose I'm due to compose some thoughts of affirmation if only to convince myself that the time is well-accounted for, the decision was sound and I made the right call.
Too bad that, even after doing so, the jury's still somewhat out.
First off, here's some evidence for the defense; a listing of all the things I certainly wouldn't have done had I stayed the course this time last year:
- Created the blog that you are now reading, which now warehouses 124 entries and has over eight-thousand visits. ¡Ay, caramba! Thanks, peoples...
- Appeared (at least in theory) in three local film productions.
- Met some amazing people like the band Weezer, Roy Batty/Shotgun-Armed Hobo Rutger Hauer and legendary Hollywood royalty Mickey Rooney.
- Read my poetry and stories in front of several graciously charitable audiences.
- Finally had another answer other then "Um, no" when people ask me "So, can I read this mythical book you supposedly wrote?" Now I can come back on the wise-asses with the infinitely more positive: "Why yes, yes you can...right here in fact!"
- Designed a physical copy of the self-same book. With any luck I'll get the proof copy in the mail this week (fingers and various other appendages crossed).
- Volunteered with the Atlantic Film Festival.
- Finally managed to get formally published when my poetry appeared in the Year One Anthology for Open Heart Forgery.
- Went through an extensive personal inventory that will eventually see me return in school in September.
- Completed a six-week voice acting class which I'm hoping to parley into a few auditions (hopefully more on this later).
- Shot video for a local commercial (again, details to follow).
- Sat in on a pre-production meeting for a local short film slated to lens in a few months (also, hopefully, a future ECD entry).
- Managed to get through winter without sporting the equivalent of a spare tire around my traditionally very sedentary mid-drift.
Seriously, folks, it's great and all that I've self-published a book, but c'mon. If a tree falls in the forest and that tree is debarked, chipped, washed, bleached, beaten, refined, screened, pressed, dried, printed, made into paper then my book is printed on it and no-one reads it does it justify killing that poor tree in the first place?
Although the E-book is selling better then I expected, I got a loooooong way to go to move the ten-thousand copies that I believe will be needed to grab a traditional publisher by the lapels and yell with some authority: "Hey! Pay attention to me!" Unless I can do some pretty miraculous single-handed promotion for it over the next few months (or enter into a Faustian arrangement with dark forces for immediate financial stability), I'm afraid that it's gonna be all for naught.
I won't lie to you folks, I miss the endless wellspring of cold-hard cash. I did save a ton of money before telling my last employer to cram it with walnuts and I've tried to be very frugal over the past year. I really don't buy a ton of stuff, just the odd book, Blu-Ray, CD, movie/concert ticket, decent meal or board/video game.
Thank the Maker that I don't have expensive tastes. Mercifully my particular brand of mid-life crisis doesn't seem to involve splashy sports cars, powerboats, motorcycles, phat palatial mansions, hair plugs or bottles of cognac. Well, at least not yet.
No, honestly, the only real thing that I truly miss is the absence of travel in my life over the past two years. My last two trips (Scotland and Ireland in 2008 and London in 2009) were life-altering. I wanted to go AWOL at the time and now I'm desperate to go back. I want to tour the English countryside and poke around in Wales, one of my two ancestral places of origin. I want to spend at least half a month in France, Italy, Germany, Spain and Greece respectively. But given the current state of the union, I have no clue when I'll be able to do this again.
The net result: Happy Dave is starting to run out of happy...
Not to mention having to eschew those things that most people take for granted. Since I constantly felt like walking off the job for about five years before I finally pulled the trigger, my life in general has been in a holding pattern. No house, no kids, no major investments. Hell, I can't even ponder replacing my venerable, ole' 2003 Corolla, who, like it's owner, is gettin' kinda long in the tooth. I feel like I'm in limbo.
I dunno, maybe that's just the way it's supposed to be. Maybe that's the lot in life for most jobbers on this wacky planet. Perhaps all we're really supposed to do is toil away at some thankless, anonymous enterprise, trying to rake in as much coin as possible while occasionally eking out small blips of happiness between stretches of repetitive dreariness.
Some days I feel like I'll never be able to generate the sort of scratch I was making at my last job by doing creative things, things that I'm actually good at and feel happy doing. Right now I'm trying not to do the employment equivalent of jumping out of the frying pan and into the flash fryer. The jobs I'm applying for are gigs that I think I'm well-suited for and with companies that seem to enjoy a positive reputation for trusting and nurturing their employees.
If I can help it at all, I don't want to say the following words to a stranger ever again...
"Hi, thanks for calling (insert name of crappy call center employer here), my name is David. How can I debase myself today for your edification?"
I don't want to do it anymore because I honestly believe in my heart of hearts that I'm better then that. It's a waste of my unique (if decidedly modest) talents. It's not what I'm supposed to be doing with my life.
I know, I know. Eighty percent of humanity can probably make a similar claim.
Was this whole thing set off a year ago for the right reasons? Did I leave work because it was slowly killing me? Was it just because I was bored? Was it due to the fact that conditions were getting worse every year and no-one I talked to gave a crap about making it better? Was it to pursue ventures that I would never have gotten around to had I stayed the course?
Or did I leave because of some kind of midlife crisis? I hate to think that anyone would make a decision just because hair stops growing in places where it's supposed to and begins to seek out brave and creative new avenues.
But could it really have been something so shallow?
I'm hoping this debate winds down a bit when the demo copy of my book arrives in the mail sometime over the next week or so. Or I hope the parley is instantly silenced when someone of power and/or influence reads this blog, sees something with promise and decides to grant me some semblance of a palatable future.
Because just as sure as Dr. Johnny Fever refused to play disco tunes at W.K.R.P, I can't do call centers any more.
I'd rather sell vacuum cleaners door-to-door.
Mike Fright, Part 1 by giebergoldfarb
Johnny's rant @ the 4:40 mark here is priceless...
Mike Fright, Part 2 by giebergoldfarb
FAIL: I'd say #2 was a tell, but the job really did suck...
http://personaltao.com/taoism-library/midlife-crisis/signs-of-a-midlife-transformation/
Sunday, December 5, 2010
T.V. or not T.V.? - Part II - Sitcoms and Shenannigans
Wagwan, my brothas!
My early preference for T.V. wasn't just limited to sci-fi or animated fare. No, I also loved action/drama type shows like Emergency!: (1972-1977)
My mom used to keep a childhood scrapbook for me and every year I'd write in what I wanted to be when I grew up. It's because of Emergency! that "Paramedic" and "Doctor" was added to an ever-changing litany that changed every year. (and regrettably, still does!)
I have so many found memories of this show. I loved the red emergency vehicles, the tackle boxes filled with meds and the ultra-cool "Biophone":
This bad-boy's on my Christmas list this year.
Although Emergency! was technically aimed at adults, I'm sure it's was still responsible for selling an ass-load of "Hot Wheels" fire engines and "Adventure People" rescue trucks:
And to make sure law enforcement was well-represented I also had a huge interest in CHiP's: (1977-1983)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTDOLoDiOcg&feature=related
Wow. Sometimes it's strangely comforting to be reminded that Erik Estrada once had a career.
Even as an seven year old kid, this next show held a certain inexplicable fascination for me. It's a shame that it many ways it set the role of women back to the Dark Ages.
Charlie's Angels (1976-1981)
Mmmmmm, Jaclyn Smith. Er, sorry.
Before David Hasselhoff held court over a parade of blond, bouncy, beach bimbos (and w-a-a-a-a-a-y before he developed a penchant for Formica-flavored fast food), he was totally pimp as Micheal Knight in Knight Rider: (1982-1986)
Hey, what guy wouldn't want to drive around in a self-aware, indestructible bitchin' black car with a cylon eye, a boost button and a stuffy British personality like C-3P0?
Well, okay, maybe if you replaced the car's personality with that of Julie Benz, then it would be perfect...
Between 1982 to 1987 if you had a problem, if no-one else would help, and if you could find them, maybe, just maybe, with a miracle, you might, if you were really, really lucky, be able to hire (if you were nice to them)... The A-Team:
Although for the life of me I have no idea why you would want to hire these clowns. Collectively they had worst aim than Special Edition Greedo or the entire animated cast of G.I. Joe.
And talk about the law of diminishing returns: as goofy as the show was during it's first season, it got progressively sloppy and moronic as time wore on. I seem to remember a stunt during the fifth season which had the A-Team going over a ramp in a jeep, crashing and then tumbling over a few times.
The dummy used to represent Mr. T was white.
And who could forget V? (1983)
This was indispensable viewing back in the day. Originally inspired by It Can't Happen Here, the Sinclair Lewis novel warning of a hypothetical fascist takeover in the United States, Kenneth Johnson's gritty and contemporary first-draft script was rejected by the network because it was (*GASP!*) "too cerebral".
So, Johnson substituted real-life fascists for extraterrestrial, man-eating lizards to take advantage of the 80's sci-fi boom and the rest, as they say, is history.
I gotta tell ya, when Marc Singer's Mike Donovan sneaks into the alien ship in the first mini-series, gets into a scrap with a Visitor and his opponent's face falls off to reveal a giant iguana underneath, a fuse in my brain kinda burnt out.
V and it's follow-up mini-series served as a tremendous warning reminder of Nazi trappings. The uniforms, symbolism, youth programs, information control, collaborators, propaganda broadcasts, and systemic persecutions were all hoisted up as symptoms of a sick society.
Regrettably original scribe Kenneth Johnson was alienated (no pun intended) from the project over a budget battles with the network when it came time to shoot the sequel miniseries V: The Final Battle (1984). He had no input at all by the time V: The Series came along, and lemme tell ya, it shows. Pee-yew! The only good thing about the series was the presence of Michael Ironside. He was totally bad-ass, yo.
I've given the re-make/re-imagining a whirl and I think it's brilliantly updated to reflect our times. Instead of it being a dissertation of external fascism and race relations, the new incarnation of V has a lot of interesting things to say about our blind faith in authority figures who we assume have society's best interests in mind. The show seems to be telling us that there are a lot of concealed, real-life reptiles out there growing nice and fat off of our ignorance and apathy. Just watch the documentary Inside Job and you'll know what I'm talking about.
Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987-1994)
It's hard to believe that it took nearly twenty years for a new iteration of Star Trek to hit the small screen. Although destined to succeed the first couple of seasons under Gene Roddenberry's direct guidance were pretty poopy. In retrospect that inaugural season is rife with the sort of cheese that hobbled many of the worst episodes of the original series.
Nevertheless, by the early-Nineties, the show had hit it's stride and everybody on our floor in residence tuned in every week to watch the new episode. It wasn't perceived as a geeky thing back then, everybody liked this show. We couldn't wait until the following week and would often spend days discussing the minutia or implications of every new episode.
Having said that, if you re-watch it now, it could be argued that there were a lot more crap episodes then good, but the good stuff was really friggin' awesome.
Some people thought that it packed it in too soon. Many thought that the writers had gotten a real handle on the characters and plot threads and it certainly shouldn't have segued into a series of mainly forgettable films.
But sometimes it's wise to shuffle off stage versus being dragged off. Just ask Danny Williams.
Here's an early promotional clip hyping the premiere of the debut episode:
Now, it wasn't always so serious with me. If I have any sense of humor at all (a point, I'm sure, which is still up for debate), it's due to these memorable shows.
Three's Company (1977-1984)
Although most of the scenarios were completely moronic, the comedic timing of Joyce DeWitt, Suzanne Somers, Norman Fell, Audra Lindley, Richard Kline, Don Knotts and the late, great John Ritter made this show greater than the sum of it's naughty parts. I didn't really understand all of the sexual innuendo at age seven, but I loved the pratfalls and generally goofy behavior of supposed adults.
Threes Company Episode 1
Uploaded by Paulleahs. - See more comedy videos.
The Carol Burnett Show (1967-1978)
Although the skits could be uproariously funny in and of themselves, it was Tim Conway and Harvey Corman trying to bust each other up during the show's life tapings that resulted in maximum hilarity.
The first time I watched the following skit I nearly laughed myself into a hernia when Tim Conway tells the story about the wife he lost in Hawaii at the 5:50 mark:
"Good luck ham" = Win.
And here's my favorite sitcom of all time: W.K.R.P. in Cincinnati (1978-1982)
Why did I love this show so much and continue to love it to this day? Simply put, I don't think any sitcom before or since has been nearly this slick, sly and true to it's subject matter. I hate sitcoms like Friends and Will and Grace that constantly batter the audience with one-liners, bòn móts and innuendo like we're all kids with attention deficit disorder. With W.K.R.P. the humor came organically from the character interaction and story lines and often built up to a gut-busting crescendo.
For example, the episode "The Painting" in which slimy sales manager Herb Tarlek purchases a work of art for all the wrong reasons and then spends the entire show trying alternately to unload it or buy it back again, is a hilarious morality tale that the Bard himself would have been proud of.
As a side note, I also patterned my entire wardrobe, personality and ethos in High School after the teachings of Johnny Fever. Hey, it was a noble pursuit. After all, he was a Doctor!
A word for truth in advertising: although I posted a link below to the first season on DVD, the thing is pretty awful. Since it would have cost a fortune to license the original music, the DVD was released without the original artist's tunes, removing the show's character, crippling it's realism and even making some scenes nonsensical.
Man, it doesn't make any sense to me to make licensing music so friggin' expensive. If I were a musician, I'd be thrilled have one of my tunes included in a classic T.V. show DVD release. It's free promotion, fer Chrissakes!
Morons.
Y'know, sad to say but there was a point in time in my life when I lived for Thursday night's "Must See T.V.".
It usually started with Family Ties: (1982-1989)
Why is my brain hardwired so that I can recite the names of the entire cast of Family Ties yet I can't even remember my online banking password?
In many ways Family Ties was a typical 80's sitcom, but it also had the cajones to tackle some serious issues. Like when a certain future Academy Award winning actor made an appearance as Elyse's alcoholic brother Ned in a few episodes:
Cheers (1982-1993) was also great during it's heyday.
I can credit an episode of this show for my disproportionate knowledge regarding a certain former Eastern Bloc nation:
No slight to Woody Harrelson, but, man, I loved Coach.
Similarly I was there when both Selma Diamond and Florence Halop died within three seasons of each other on Night Court (1984 -1992). Finally the producers of the show decided not to hedge their bets any longer and retained thirty-two-year-old Marsha Warfield as a replacement bailiff. After all, having to acknowledge death in a sitcom not once but twice certainly put the brakes on the ole' yuk-train.
Here's the funky theme song intro:
John Larroquette's Dan Fielding was perhaps the most reprehensible character in an 80's sitcom, an unrepentant ripe bastard who's very presence was a refreshing change from most of the non-threatening, underwritten and saccharine automatons that populated 90% of the T.V. shows of the time.
Here's a bit of little-known Larroquette lore. In addition to playing the Klingon Maltz in Star Trek III: The Search for Spock:
John also provided the intro voice-over for the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre:
One last Night Court/Star Trek crossover. See if you recognize this morose mother-f#@$%^:
And who could forget The Cosby Show (1984-1992)? In the early goings this had some genuine moments of wit and edge.
Check the 7:45 mark of the Pilot Episode and you'll instantly be reminded of why this show was so great:
Y'know, when I was a teenager I wasn't above procuring a giant bag of potato chips ( "Look out, they're ruffled!"), a keg of dip and a two-liter of Coke and nestling into a recliner to watch Much Music's fifth or sixth broadcast of Woodstock. I loved the history captured here in video amber: The Who, Jefferson Airplane and Jimi Hendrix are all preserved in suspended animation at the height of their powers.
Oh, and the occasional appearance of naked, mud-covered hippy chicks didn't hurt the viewing experience either.
And then there was this Cosby-killer and cultural smart-bomb The Simpsons (1989-present).
During the first eight seasons or so, The Simpsons was a hilarious show that just to happened to be animated. It's also odd to describe an animated show as well directed, but it was. At first it employed an amazing repertoire of visual nods to other shows and films and seemed to avoid broad and obvious jokes. It's been on for so long now that it's moved away from character-driven plots and has degenerated into a wacky cartoon sitcom version of itself.
It isn't the worst thing on T.V., but man, do I miss the subversive and cock-eyed sense of humor that characterized those earlier years.
It also amazes me how much of a whipping post The Simpsons was for religious and parental watchdog group that thought it was mental nitroglycerin for kids. It's because of this show's groundbreaking efforts that lesser programs like Family Guy (which is ten times worse for content) basically gets a free controversy pass nowadays.
By the time I hit university, my floormates often used me as a walking, talking T.V. Guide.
"So, Dave, what's good on Tuesday nights?"
"Hmmmm, in think ABC is your best bet tonight. How early you start is gonna depend on how much you can tolerate Tony Danza and how hot you think Alyssa Milano is. You've got Who's the Boss at eight, The Wonder Years at eight-thirty and then Roseanne at nine. But for the love of god, get the f%$#^ out of there after that unless you're a huge fan of Coach and eeeeesssh, thirtysomething."
Yeah, you could say I watched a lot of T.V.
But something happened to me when I was about twenty-five. After encountering some more sophisticated forms of entertainment (good books, independent films) the lure of the boob tube wore off for me. I looked back on some of the dreck I'd watched and lamented on how I could have better spent that time doing more productive things.
So, for many years I wrote off network television as a giant waste of time.
But, as a famous man once said...
EPIC:
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ALSO EPIC:
FAIL: This was nearly as bad as Small Wonder. That theme song alone is enough to send a body into a diabetic coma...
My early preference for T.V. wasn't just limited to sci-fi or animated fare. No, I also loved action/drama type shows like Emergency!: (1972-1977)
My mom used to keep a childhood scrapbook for me and every year I'd write in what I wanted to be when I grew up. It's because of Emergency! that "Paramedic" and "Doctor" was added to an ever-changing litany that changed every year. (and regrettably, still does!)
I have so many found memories of this show. I loved the red emergency vehicles, the tackle boxes filled with meds and the ultra-cool "Biophone":
This bad-boy's on my Christmas list this year.
Although Emergency! was technically aimed at adults, I'm sure it's was still responsible for selling an ass-load of "Hot Wheels" fire engines and "Adventure People" rescue trucks:
And to make sure law enforcement was well-represented I also had a huge interest in CHiP's: (1977-1983)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VTDOLoDiOcg&feature=related
Wow. Sometimes it's strangely comforting to be reminded that Erik Estrada once had a career.
Even as an seven year old kid, this next show held a certain inexplicable fascination for me. It's a shame that it many ways it set the role of women back to the Dark Ages.
Charlie's Angels (1976-1981)
Mmmmmm, Jaclyn Smith. Er, sorry.
Before David Hasselhoff held court over a parade of blond, bouncy, beach bimbos (and w-a-a-a-a-a-y before he developed a penchant for Formica-flavored fast food), he was totally pimp as Micheal Knight in Knight Rider: (1982-1986)
Hey, what guy wouldn't want to drive around in a self-aware, indestructible bitchin' black car with a cylon eye, a boost button and a stuffy British personality like C-3P0?
Well, okay, maybe if you replaced the car's personality with that of Julie Benz, then it would be perfect...
Between 1982 to 1987 if you had a problem, if no-one else would help, and if you could find them, maybe, just maybe, with a miracle, you might, if you were really, really lucky, be able to hire (if you were nice to them)... The A-Team:
Although for the life of me I have no idea why you would want to hire these clowns. Collectively they had worst aim than Special Edition Greedo or the entire animated cast of G.I. Joe.
And talk about the law of diminishing returns: as goofy as the show was during it's first season, it got progressively sloppy and moronic as time wore on. I seem to remember a stunt during the fifth season which had the A-Team going over a ramp in a jeep, crashing and then tumbling over a few times.
The dummy used to represent Mr. T was white.
And who could forget V? (1983)
This was indispensable viewing back in the day. Originally inspired by It Can't Happen Here, the Sinclair Lewis novel warning of a hypothetical fascist takeover in the United States, Kenneth Johnson's gritty and contemporary first-draft script was rejected by the network because it was (*GASP!*) "too cerebral".
So, Johnson substituted real-life fascists for extraterrestrial, man-eating lizards to take advantage of the 80's sci-fi boom and the rest, as they say, is history.
I gotta tell ya, when Marc Singer's Mike Donovan sneaks into the alien ship in the first mini-series, gets into a scrap with a Visitor and his opponent's face falls off to reveal a giant iguana underneath, a fuse in my brain kinda burnt out.
V and it's follow-up mini-series served as a tremendous warning reminder of Nazi trappings. The uniforms, symbolism, youth programs, information control, collaborators, propaganda broadcasts, and systemic persecutions were all hoisted up as symptoms of a sick society.
Regrettably original scribe Kenneth Johnson was alienated (no pun intended) from the project over a budget battles with the network when it came time to shoot the sequel miniseries V: The Final Battle (1984). He had no input at all by the time V: The Series came along, and lemme tell ya, it shows. Pee-yew! The only good thing about the series was the presence of Michael Ironside. He was totally bad-ass, yo.
I've given the re-make/re-imagining a whirl and I think it's brilliantly updated to reflect our times. Instead of it being a dissertation of external fascism and race relations, the new incarnation of V has a lot of interesting things to say about our blind faith in authority figures who we assume have society's best interests in mind. The show seems to be telling us that there are a lot of concealed, real-life reptiles out there growing nice and fat off of our ignorance and apathy. Just watch the documentary Inside Job and you'll know what I'm talking about.
Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987-1994)
It's hard to believe that it took nearly twenty years for a new iteration of Star Trek to hit the small screen. Although destined to succeed the first couple of seasons under Gene Roddenberry's direct guidance were pretty poopy. In retrospect that inaugural season is rife with the sort of cheese that hobbled many of the worst episodes of the original series.
Nevertheless, by the early-Nineties, the show had hit it's stride and everybody on our floor in residence tuned in every week to watch the new episode. It wasn't perceived as a geeky thing back then, everybody liked this show. We couldn't wait until the following week and would often spend days discussing the minutia or implications of every new episode.
Having said that, if you re-watch it now, it could be argued that there were a lot more crap episodes then good, but the good stuff was really friggin' awesome.
Some people thought that it packed it in too soon. Many thought that the writers had gotten a real handle on the characters and plot threads and it certainly shouldn't have segued into a series of mainly forgettable films.
But sometimes it's wise to shuffle off stage versus being dragged off. Just ask Danny Williams.
Here's an early promotional clip hyping the premiere of the debut episode:
Now, it wasn't always so serious with me. If I have any sense of humor at all (a point, I'm sure, which is still up for debate), it's due to these memorable shows.
Three's Company (1977-1984)
Although most of the scenarios were completely moronic, the comedic timing of Joyce DeWitt, Suzanne Somers, Norman Fell, Audra Lindley, Richard Kline, Don Knotts and the late, great John Ritter made this show greater than the sum of it's naughty parts. I didn't really understand all of the sexual innuendo at age seven, but I loved the pratfalls and generally goofy behavior of supposed adults.
Uploaded by Paulleahs. - See more comedy videos.
The Carol Burnett Show (1967-1978)
Although the skits could be uproariously funny in and of themselves, it was Tim Conway and Harvey Corman trying to bust each other up during the show's life tapings that resulted in maximum hilarity.
The first time I watched the following skit I nearly laughed myself into a hernia when Tim Conway tells the story about the wife he lost in Hawaii at the 5:50 mark:
"Good luck ham" = Win.
And here's my favorite sitcom of all time: W.K.R.P. in Cincinnati (1978-1982)
Why did I love this show so much and continue to love it to this day? Simply put, I don't think any sitcom before or since has been nearly this slick, sly and true to it's subject matter. I hate sitcoms like Friends and Will and Grace that constantly batter the audience with one-liners, bòn móts and innuendo like we're all kids with attention deficit disorder. With W.K.R.P. the humor came organically from the character interaction and story lines and often built up to a gut-busting crescendo.
For example, the episode "The Painting" in which slimy sales manager Herb Tarlek purchases a work of art for all the wrong reasons and then spends the entire show trying alternately to unload it or buy it back again, is a hilarious morality tale that the Bard himself would have been proud of.
As a side note, I also patterned my entire wardrobe, personality and ethos in High School after the teachings of Johnny Fever. Hey, it was a noble pursuit. After all, he was a Doctor!
A word for truth in advertising: although I posted a link below to the first season on DVD, the thing is pretty awful. Since it would have cost a fortune to license the original music, the DVD was released without the original artist's tunes, removing the show's character, crippling it's realism and even making some scenes nonsensical.
Man, it doesn't make any sense to me to make licensing music so friggin' expensive. If I were a musician, I'd be thrilled have one of my tunes included in a classic T.V. show DVD release. It's free promotion, fer Chrissakes!
Morons.
Y'know, sad to say but there was a point in time in my life when I lived for Thursday night's "Must See T.V.".
It usually started with Family Ties: (1982-1989)
Why is my brain hardwired so that I can recite the names of the entire cast of Family Ties yet I can't even remember my online banking password?
In many ways Family Ties was a typical 80's sitcom, but it also had the cajones to tackle some serious issues. Like when a certain future Academy Award winning actor made an appearance as Elyse's alcoholic brother Ned in a few episodes:
Cheers (1982-1993) was also great during it's heyday.
I can credit an episode of this show for my disproportionate knowledge regarding a certain former Eastern Bloc nation:
No slight to Woody Harrelson, but, man, I loved Coach.
Similarly I was there when both Selma Diamond and Florence Halop died within three seasons of each other on Night Court (1984 -1992). Finally the producers of the show decided not to hedge their bets any longer and retained thirty-two-year-old Marsha Warfield as a replacement bailiff. After all, having to acknowledge death in a sitcom not once but twice certainly put the brakes on the ole' yuk-train.
Here's the funky theme song intro:
John Larroquette's Dan Fielding was perhaps the most reprehensible character in an 80's sitcom, an unrepentant ripe bastard who's very presence was a refreshing change from most of the non-threatening, underwritten and saccharine automatons that populated 90% of the T.V. shows of the time.
Here's a bit of little-known Larroquette lore. In addition to playing the Klingon Maltz in Star Trek III: The Search for Spock:
John also provided the intro voice-over for the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre:
One last Night Court/Star Trek crossover. See if you recognize this morose mother-f#@$%^:
And who could forget The Cosby Show (1984-1992)? In the early goings this had some genuine moments of wit and edge.
Check the 7:45 mark of the Pilot Episode and you'll instantly be reminded of why this show was so great:
Y'know, when I was a teenager I wasn't above procuring a giant bag of potato chips ( "Look out, they're ruffled!"), a keg of dip and a two-liter of Coke and nestling into a recliner to watch Much Music's fifth or sixth broadcast of Woodstock. I loved the history captured here in video amber: The Who, Jefferson Airplane and Jimi Hendrix are all preserved in suspended animation at the height of their powers.
Oh, and the occasional appearance of naked, mud-covered hippy chicks didn't hurt the viewing experience either.
And then there was this Cosby-killer and cultural smart-bomb The Simpsons (1989-present).
During the first eight seasons or so, The Simpsons was a hilarious show that just to happened to be animated. It's also odd to describe an animated show as well directed, but it was. At first it employed an amazing repertoire of visual nods to other shows and films and seemed to avoid broad and obvious jokes. It's been on for so long now that it's moved away from character-driven plots and has degenerated into a wacky cartoon sitcom version of itself.
It isn't the worst thing on T.V., but man, do I miss the subversive and cock-eyed sense of humor that characterized those earlier years.
It also amazes me how much of a whipping post The Simpsons was for religious and parental watchdog group that thought it was mental nitroglycerin for kids. It's because of this show's groundbreaking efforts that lesser programs like Family Guy (which is ten times worse for content) basically gets a free controversy pass nowadays.
By the time I hit university, my floormates often used me as a walking, talking T.V. Guide.
"So, Dave, what's good on Tuesday nights?"
"Hmmmm, in think ABC is your best bet tonight. How early you start is gonna depend on how much you can tolerate Tony Danza and how hot you think Alyssa Milano is. You've got Who's the Boss at eight, The Wonder Years at eight-thirty and then Roseanne at nine. But for the love of god, get the f%$#^ out of there after that unless you're a huge fan of Coach and eeeeesssh, thirtysomething."
Yeah, you could say I watched a lot of T.V.
But something happened to me when I was about twenty-five. After encountering some more sophisticated forms of entertainment (good books, independent films) the lure of the boob tube wore off for me. I looked back on some of the dreck I'd watched and lamented on how I could have better spent that time doing more productive things.
So, for many years I wrote off network television as a giant waste of time.
But, as a famous man once said...
EPIC:
ALSO EPIC:
FAIL: This was nearly as bad as Small Wonder. That theme song alone is enough to send a body into a diabetic coma...
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