Thursday, January 17, 2008

Some Thoughts on Television. Or Lack Thereof.

Preface: I've been jotting down random things for the past week regarding the deserted wasteland that is television at the moment - but in the form of letters. No, I'm not crazy. Or any more crazy than I was a few weeks ago. Just bored. And besides, one of my resolutions was to be better with my correspondence...

Wednesday, January 09

Dear Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers:

You suck. You suck not just because I completely support the writer's strike, but because you selfish jackasses have caused a strike when it's winter and it's drizzly outside and it gets dark really early and when I DON'T HAVE CABLE ANYMORE!

At first it was an opportunity for me to take a break from the amount television I watch. It was a good lesson. My house has been cleaner and stayed cleaner than it ever has before. I've been cooking. Even made bread. Caught up on some of my reading. Organized my DVD and CD collections. Scraped peeling paint off a bedroom door.

However, it's now to the point on the to-do list where my choices are to make my own laundry detergent or paint the freshly-scraped bedroom door and watch it dry.

Oh, but don't go thinking that I've been worn down and will start to side with you. I'm still behind the writers 100%. Union yes. Power to the people and all that other stuff. Just know that when I get to the point on my list where I start macrameying things out of dog fur, I'm sending them all to you.

Thursday, January 10

Dear Grey's Anatomy:

Your first season far exceeded my expectations. Your second season was good. Your third season was, well, dreadful. This season seemed to be back on track, but after last night I'm not so sure. Each episode's theme that ties all the plotlines together has always been a bit heavy-handed, but I've adjusted. Last night's episode, however, surpassed heavy-handed. Last night was more smack-me-in-the-mouth-with-a-mackerel. Because from what I could tell - or should I say, WAS TOLD, by every character on the screen - the theme last night was FAITH. In fact, I think the script went something like this:

Doctor 1: "I seem to have lost my faith."
Doctor 2: "Seriously? I have a ton of faith."
Doctor 3: "Don't you have any faith in me?"
Patient 1: "Look at me. I'm a faith healer."
Tall Blond Annoying Doctor: "Faith, faith, faith, faith. I think I'll cry now and try to win another Emmy."

There was only one plot line that didn't actually have something to do with faith, but I'm guessing your message there was that WE should all have FAITH that Dr. McCreepyFacialHair and Dr. LadyFromTheSilenceOfTheLambsWell will be having sex in the on-call room within the next three episodes should the writers' strike ever be resolved.

It didn't help any to keep seeing the ads for the new show, Eli Stone, featuring George Michael singing "Faith."

Oy vey. I need a mackerel-ectomy. Stat.

Dear Really Awful All Male Sex in the City Knock-Off Show That Came on After Grey's Anatomy:

I thought you were cancelled. Are you sure you weren't cancelled? If not, please know I can't handle the idea of CIA Seceret Agent Michael Vaughn and White House Deputy Communications Director Will Bailey existing anywhere in the television universe as smarmy Suits.

And apparently neither can a lot of other people. Because, seriously, I thought you were cancelled. Please look into it. Thanks.

Dear Everybody Loves Raymond:

Although I always found you amusing, I never watched you on a regular basis. Even now in reruns I usually opt for something else. As a result, I had never seen the Halloween episode where the grandfather dresses up as Frankenstein's Monster. Until the other night. Something made me switch over just in time to see your little homage to Peter Boyle's part in the funniest movie ever made. Seeing that and knowing he's no longer with us brought a little tear to my eye. As my brother says about that episode, "I always hope at some point he'll say 'Puuuuuiiiin un eh Riiiiiz.' But he never does." I guess I'll be sure to check you out more often now just in case it ever happens :)

Sunday, January 13

Dear PBS:


My geek rating may have just skyrocketted, but I don't care. I'm so happy you salvaged my Sunday evenings from now until April that I may even break down and buy the Jane Austen Action Figure (with writing desk and removable quill). I'm guessing it also comes with an official membership to the National Association of Tragic Spinsters. But I'm ok with that.

Dear Wife Swap, Crowned: The Mother of All Pageants, American Gladiators, and The Moment of Truth:

I'm not completely certain just yet, but I'm pretty sure that you are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Monday, January 14

Dear October Road:

I was actually excited to see that you were on. No offense, but that kind of scares me. Don't get me wrong, you make nice background noise to fold laundry too, but I'm just not that into you. When I saw your initial promos I was hoping at worst for Dawson's Road - er, I mean - Creek and at best for a TV version of Beautiful Girls, and well, let's just say that hasn't really happened. I have been confused about something though and wanted to ask you about it for some time now. Are you supposed to be set in the past or do all 20-somethings in New England blue collar towns listen to classic rock from the 70s? It's very confusing. Key songs in these characters' lives are often too old for them to be believable. Last night two of your young characters were listening to the Bay City Rollers. Really? Now, if there was a melodrama about 20-somethings in a small blue-collar town in the South, I'm sure everyone would be listening to Lynard Skynard or Hank Williams Sr. so I shouldn't be too hard on you. But enough already.

Tuesday, January 15

Dear LOST:

Help me. You're my only hope.

Wednesday, January 16

Dear Cashmire Mafia:

Is there a Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse that I'm not aware of?

P. S. Please tell Darren Star that I think Candace Bushnell should not only sue him, but that she and Sarah Jessica Parker should hold him down in the middle of Park Avenue and beat him with a Prada bag and a pair of Christian Louboutins.

Until next week or the strike is over ...


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Thanks for the laugh. Maw