Chicken and Sponge

The David Letterman Scandal

I will say it up-front: I am a big David Letterman fan.  I always have been.  I imagine I always will be.  I was a Letterman fan when he had a daytime TV show.  Remember?  Yes, eons ago.  I don't watch religiously.  In fact, I rarely watch at all anymore.  I have a bedtime.

So what do I think about the David Letterman Sex Scandal?  Did anyone notice that a person has allegedly tried to extort money from Dave?  That this person is allegedly blackmailing Dave?  Do people realize that that is actually a crime? 

I feel the same way about the David Letterman Sex Scandal as I did about President Clinton and Monica Lewinsky, John Edwards and whoever, and every other celebrity, politician, or common person who is involved in a sex scandal.  How do I feel?  YAWN.

I'm sorry, but I just don't care.  Unless the person is forcing someone, having sex with a child or with my dog...I DON'T CARE.  Really.

If anyone had filed charges against Dave for sexual harassment, my answer would be different.  But that isn't what has happened.  What is happening now is that the media (and I usually defend the media just to be contrary to popular opinion) is speculating about what if David Letterman pressured these women or used his position to...What if...What if...What if...

What if no one comes forward and says they were sexually harassed?  What if this were truly consensual?Well, then, I hope the focus would shift from David Letterman aka the VICTIM, to the  actual alleged crime of extortion...

I'm not holding my breath, though.  People in this country, in spite of the prevalence of "racy" advertising and entertainment, are essentially a bunch of prudish, little sex-obsessed pilgrims.  Let me correct that, we're a nation of dirty capitalist, sex-obsessed pilgrims.  I'm sure that there are many people who see nothing wrong with blackmailing a person and attempting to extort money from them IF THEY DESERVE IT.

But it is wrong, oh so wrong.  As much as we like to judge one another, and hey, we are all GUILTY of constantly judging everyone and everything around us, we have laws and courts of laws to define the parameters and define what is actually legal or illegal (which should not be mistaken with what is right or wrong--when we're lucky they're one and the same thing, but not always).

I am of that generation that kind of straddles generations and movements.  I consider myself a feminist, but I'm not really comfortable with that label and less comfortable with how many different things that label means to different people.  I don't always jump on the side of the woman.  I don't assume the woman is always right or that the woman is always the victim.  I know plenty of stupid people of both sexes.  Oh, and by the way, pay me the same for the same job AND you can hold my door open for me and I'll love you for it.  I don't think that is contradictory.  Equality doesn't mean that manners and custom fly out the door.  Manners and fairness and common sense are of value to me.  In fact, men with good manners are gold.

I like men.  I'm no man-hater.  Just can't do it.  I sincerely like them.  I couldn't tell you why and there are days when I might really scratch my head to try to find an answer to that one.  But essentially, on a day-to-day basis, I like men.  There are many individuals that I don't like and there are many TYPES of people, for example racists, that I openly and unapologetically dislike.  But I don't hate or distrust half the population based on gender. And I don't assume that men are pigs.

I also don't assume that women are victims.  I don't assume that women get involved with men because they were coerced OR that they were trying to further their careers.  Sometimes people get involved because, well...they want to be involved.  They need that human connection.  The attraction, the intimacy, the comfort.  Gee, how horrible.  How insidious, how criminal.  No wait...that was the other guy.  The one who is actually being charged with a crime.

I like David Letterman.  I admire the way he has handled this situation.  I think he has done so with honesty and class.  He seems a little naked right now, vulnerable, still humorous, but it's self-deprecating humor to say the least.  No matter how he feels inside, no matter what is being said or felt in his household, he has been fearless in his candor.  I don't know how anyone could not admire him at this moment.  Your child steals a piece of candy from the store and you make him take it back and confess his crime and everyone pats everyone on the back and says, "good job.  That was hard to do, but I'm proud of you for doing it."

So whether or not anyone thinks I'm a traitor to my sex, I'm proud of Dave.  I don't think he could have handled this any better.  That doesn't make it any easier for him.  I hope the sex and scandal-obsessed will wake up and smell the crime.  I hope they will get off of Dave's case and focus their attention where it belongs.  Yeah, good luck on that one, Dave.  Truly, good luck.

An Evening of Irritants and the Season Premiere of the Biggest Loser

Zeus, weilding his weapon, Louise, in the background.  They've done it again.

Late at night.  Much to do.  Don't want to be  lame... Yeah, good luck with that.

Not every day brings exciting developments.  Sometimes I get weary with my own brain obsessing about the same old stuff.  That's when it's time to be shallow and petty or at least observe the little irritants in life.  Tonight, personal irritants.

There is the screen door.  This is the screen door that goes to the sliding doors which exit onto the covered porch.  The canine exit.  The poor excuse and no substitute for a dog door.  Mick, can you hear me?  Dog door, dog door.  What?  No?  CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?  HOW ABOUT NOW?  DOG DOOR! DOG DOOR!  DOG DOOR!  Come on already.

We have this "thing" with the sliding screen.  I don't know how to define "thing" but in this case it is like bad karma.  Bad sliding door karma.  I'm not sure how many times that thing has been fixed, but trust me, it has been several times.  The last time was when Mick was home a couple of weeks ago.  For the past couple of weeks that door has been a dream.  Swish, swish, swish.  Glide, glide, glide.

Now please realize that this door in its entirety is a cheap piece of crap and this wonderful dream of gently sliding doors is not going to last.  Someone should really have been reminding me of that.  Because tonight, that insistent, hyperactive idiot, Zeus, did not have someone immediately at his beck and call and he found himself on one side of that screen and Louise on the other.  Oh My God, the HORROR!

So Zeus gave a sharp bark and threw his body against the screen.  It now bows out.  Kind of saggy and floppy looking.  And it no longer goes swish, swish, swish.  Glide, glide, glide.  It now goes Ugh-eek- screech, screech, damnit, damnit, THIS DAMNED THING DOESN'T WORK ANYMORE!

Mind you, Miranda was sitting right there in the living room.  But will she get up to let the dog out?  Not on you life!  It almost takes a very polite written request with promises of bounty for her effort.

Stupid dog.  Stupid door.

I am ticked.  I am disgusted.

Irritant number 2:  I have lost an important notebook.  Probably misplaced would be more accurate, but until I find it, it feels lost.  This state of affairs is probably not surprising.  I have a notebook fetish.  Mick always thinks we have plenty of notebooks around if someone needs one, but he is wrong.  He is assuming I'll share.  Want a notebook?  Well go buy onethen and quit writing crap in mine.  Each notebook serves a different purpose.  It's like being in school and having notebooks for each subject.  Just because I'm not in school doesn't mean I don't have subjects.  I'm missing my blogging notebook and I'm really quite disgusted by this.  All the user names, user IDs, passwords, and other malarkey are stored in this notebook that looks like so many others except that its dots are orange.  I can only find green, blue, and pink dots at present.  This is what one gets for cleaning the bedroom.  Leave it a cluttered mess and be able to locate anything and everything.

Irritant number 3:  Just why, oh why, did Sam decide to take the ice cube tray, a long rectangular plastic container, fill it with ice cubes and water, and take it into her room?  Is this her idea of a new drinking glass?  Really?  Would you believe that she managed to not spill any in her room?  She's done worse, much  worse, but please don't let this phase last long.

Irritant number 4:  Biggest Loser started the new season tonight.  If I don't carefully pick and choose on this one, I could be writing for hours.  I don't want to do that.  To start with, this is season 9 and each season is like the start of a new year, meaning each season Mick and I resolve to lose weight along with the contestants.  I've been watching for the past four or five seasons.  I should be there by now.  Instead, I've gained about 26 pounds since last year.  Mick assures me he'll be fat when he gets home, too.  Maybe we need to quit watching.  The show is making us fat.

Also, you can't watch this show unless it's on Tivo or DVR.  You just can't because they repeat the last thirty seconds after each commercial break.  It's a two-hour show that is probably less than one and a half hours.

Then there is the emotion.  Biggest Loser Season 9 is the worst for very moving, very touching, and very tragic personal stories.  It's what makes people care about the show, but there is just SO MUCH EMOTION!  The tear, and tears, and more tears.  Everyone is crying.  Tonight everyone cried at the same time.  HEY, ONE OF THE CONTESTANTS MADEJILLIAN MICHAELS CHOKE UP AND CRY!!!   Don't worry, Jillian, I cried too. Over and over. I hate this because I am such a sucker.  It's got to be a hormonal thing.  It's got to be, but God help me if anyone gives a eulogy, a rousing performance, or rescues a damned puppy.  There I sit, in a puddle of tears.  How I loathe myself.  I want my own room to watch TV in.  No company, no witnesses.

Last irritant (for tonight):  people who call me "dude".  Come on.  Please quit.  Please.  I don't get it.  I don't appreciate it.  I just don't.  Please, oh please, don't call me "dude".  Miranda calls me Dude.  All the time.

OK.  That's it.  Over and out.

Where Did They Go? Bring Them Back! They Cancelled My TV Shows (Again!)

 

You've no idea how hard it is to get two people in the same frame while swinging.  My girls, once again at Dallas City Park, Miranda helping to keep Sam entertained.

Miranda:  Mom, it's really sad, but there are only three shows on that I like to watch.

me:  That's ok; we all watch too much TV anyway.

Miranda:  Yeah, but two of them are on Sunday and the other on Monday.

me:  Ok, In Plain Sight and True Blood on Sundays.  What's on Monday?

Miranda:  (slight exasperation in her tone, as if I should automatically know the answer), The Secret Life of the American Teenager.

me:  Oh, yeah, I forgot.

Now these choices could probably tell you a lot about us as individuals and as a family.  What, exactly, I don't know, except that I seem to be ok with inappropriate television for my kids.  On the other hand, while many wouldn't approve of my kid watching True Blood, that choice is balanced out with the wholesome, teen drama The Secret Life of the American Teenager.

While Miranda was on her big D.C./ NYC field trip, the group toured the NBC studios and saw a big HBO facility.  True Blood was advertised EVERYWHERE.  "What's True Blood"?  all the kids wanted to know.  Miranda explained.  "How do you know?"  they asked her.  "Uh...I read the books," she replied.  She later explained to me that she's the last person any of her classmates or teachers would suspect of watching the graphic vampire series, True Blood.  "Why?"  I wanted to know.  "Oh, I have a reputation of being such a goody-goody".

And she is and that's why I don't mind her watching what I watch.  However, she will not be watching the new series Hung and she doesn't want to.  Thankfully.  I have my own comfort level to think of, too.  Anyway, Miranda has always been a morally intelligent child and has not been sullied by her TV viewing habits.  She's perhaps become more lazy, but not morally bankrupt. 

The only problem with only three shows to watch in this era of DVR is that she watches those same three episodes over and over until a new episode appears the following week.  In fact, she "Housed" me out.  Enough was enough.  So this brings us to another question.

The question circulating on my blogging platform, Typepad,is " If you could bring back a cancelled TV series, which would you choose?"

First of all, I don't like re-makes.  I don't like them at all.  And I feel so strongly about THAT that I could write a whole post about it and just might.  But if I could bring BACK a series, here are my hopes, dreams, and wishes.

WHERE IS EARL?  I was so damned mad, hey, I"M STILL MAD, that the network has decided to cancel My Name Is Earl.  They decided to cancel it, but left the last show of the final season as a real cliff-hanger, which is a favorite ploy with returning series.  Obviously when they wrote that last episode, and taped that last episode, no one knew that they were going to be cancelled.  This really bites.  I'm sure I'm not the only one who is perturbed by this turn of events, (I'm sure because Miranda has made it clear to anyone who would listen that she is LIVID).

Why would I even care about My Name Is Earl?  It certainly didn't look like anything I'd be interested in when it was first advertised.  But a couple of years ago, late at night--well, ok, maybe it was 8:00 p.m., but we're talking about the Shockey household, so that is late--I couldn't find anything to watch and Mick had basketball on in the bedroom, so I gave Earl a try.

I sat in the dark by myself and laughed myself to tears.  Joy, supreme bitch and ex-wife, was naked in a dumpster and being pursued by the police when she realizes that there is a homeless man in the dumpster with her. He's pretty disappointed when the police haul Joy away.  It's not so funny in the re-telling.  It was everything that lead up to this turn of events.  I realized that I'd made some erroneous assumptions about this show.  I'd thought that because this show was about a bunch of red-necks, it would be as entertaining and stimulating as Are You As Smart As A 5th Grader (in case you don't know--lame, lame, lame).  But that wasn't the case at all.

My Name Is Earl is to red-necks, what All In The Family was to bigots.  I couldn't really give it any higher praise than that.  Although the characters were stupid, and believe me, they WERE stupid and they did stupid things, episode after episode, the writing was intelligent, the acting was on the money, and the show was so funny and superb.  So where is it?  What happened?  What lame-ass show is going to be on Thursday nights at 8:00 p.m.? 

While I was sad and disgusted at the cancelling of Earl, it is nothing compared to how I felt when I heard that The Riches had not been renewed.  I was bereft, inconsolable, and still am. Maybe you don't know what The Riches was, but if you don't, you missed out and you need to go to Walmart or Target and get yourself the first ( and only) two seasons of this riveting, unique, and hugely entertaining series.

The Riches were a family of American gypsies known as Travelers.  Travelers really exist.  They live off the grid and you may have had contact with them before without realizing it. They look like you and me. They may have scammed money from you, did a poor job of re-roofing your house for too much money, or they may have even stolen your identity.  In fact, that is what The Riches is all about.  For the Riches aren't really the Riches.  The Riches died, and our family of Travelers has assumed their identities,totally, and complications arise.  The past follows them and tries to get in on the ultimate scam.

Oh, woe is me!  I could go on and on, but no words of praise and adulation will do justice to one of the most absorbing and fascinating series that I've ever seen.  I watch a lot of TV that might not be considered "family-friendly".  Much of what I watch comes with warnings about language, nudity, violence, and "adult situations"--whatever those are.  But there was no graphic sex, violence, and I don't really remember any objectionable language in The Riches.  I may have been too dazzled by the story line to notice, but I can't recommend this series enough.  One of my favorites.  Note to people who always ask me what I would like for birthday or Christmas and then I can't think of anything:  "The Riches, Season 2".  That works as a combined gift for me and Mick.  Yes, he actually does love the series, too.

I'm sick of reality shows. The plus for the networks is that they don't have to hire writers and they really don't have to hire actors either.  But most of the reality shows really have nothing to do with reality.  I know I'm not the only one who's sick of them.  Speak up people!  Speak up, because THAT is the villain behind these cancellations, I believe.  No, I've no proof, but look at the line-up.  They were actually advertising a series called "Dance Your Ass Off" and it looked like a bunch of big, fat women in a dance contest.  Believe me, I've nothing against big, fat people.  We love The Biggest Loser, but that is enough.  New subject.  And what about "I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!"  Hey, you're a celebrity wannabe.  Those aren't REAL celebrities.  I mean, this is the age if You Tube, everybody and their DOG is a celebrity.  And if we want to watch just anybody do just any stupid thing, we can watch You Tube.  That's what it's there for.  So the networks need to do some housecleaning, but not by getting rid of entertaining, viable series.  They need to clean house by shipping out all these idiots who decide who stays and who goes.  They need to get rid of the people who though Parks and Recreation should be a series and not a skit.  Get rid of the people who actually thought Kath and Kim was funny (NOT!), and whoever decided to cancel Earl and the Riches should just be getting coffee or walking celebrity dogs or something.  Hey, maybe they could make a series out of that!  Celebrity Dog Walker...Oh, geez.

Miranda:  Mom, I just realized that there is one other show on that I like.

me:  Oh?  What's that?

Miranda:  (again, like I should already know), Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List, on Monday nights.

me:  Oh, yeah.

Yes, yes, I know.  She's probably the only 14 year-old in Dallas, Oregon watching.  We call it balance.  At least Kathy Griffin is funny.

Old Nightmare Re-visited: Dark Shadows

 

This is about as dark as the night scenes were in the episodes I watched of Dark Shadows.  Note:  this picture was taken in my backyard at dawn.

When I was a really little kid, about four, my best friend was the next door neighbor, Little Brian Hess.  Completely unrelated to this story, he was Little Brian, not because his father was a Brian--his father was Jay, as I recall--but we were a pretty close neighborhood and an older boy named Brian--that would be Big Brian Coty, lived on our street.  The Hess family had four kids, Brian, Jill, and the Twins ( younger, not a clue what their names were--they were always referred to as "the twins").

Little Brian's mom was a housewife.  Remember housewives?  They morphed into Home-makers and Stay-At-Home Moms, and some have referred to them as Domestic Goddesses (give me a break! Try to feel like a goddess with baby vomit down your front and back) and we'll probably eventually have to be called Domestic Engineers or some other lofty, p.c. title.  You can call me anything you want if this job ever comes with a paycheck.  Yes, I digress..

...Little Brian's mom used to love Dark Shadows and watched every afternoon before Jay came home from work.  You remember Dark Shadows, don't you?  The eery estate Collingswood, the governess Victoria Winter, Daphne, Julia, whoever the family matriarch was, and Barnabas Collins, the two-hundred (or so) year-old vampire.  The music was properly creepy and disturbing.   This was a very popular series, though short-lived by today's standards.  And I was forbidden to watch it.

I played at the neighbor's house for most of the day since both my parents worked.  No, I wasn't a latch key kid, my grandmother lived with us, but I was a typical kid of THAT time ( meaning I liked to play outside--no Nintendo, Blackberries, text messaging, hell, we didn't even have cable back then. The remote control was the couple's children).  I also liked playing with the neighborhood kids, mostly with Little Brian because we were the youngest in the neighborhood.  Actually, the Twins were the youngest, but they were so young that they barely counted as being human.

Anyway, I probably out-stayed my welcome on a daily basis, but they put up with me anyway.  And Dark Shadows gave me nightmares.  Consistently.  Every Night.  So, I'm assuming it was my parents, the people who had to put up with the screaming and tears and crawling into their bed nightly, who forbade the watching of Dark Shadows.

But Nancy Hess must have really liked that show, possibly the daughter Jill, too, because Dark Shadows was on their TV every weekday afternoon.  So, I had to start ducking behind the couch when it came on so that I couldn't see Barnabas Collins.

Not good enough.  Even the theme music was enough to give me bad dreams, so eventually, when I heard that eery music start, I knew it was time to head home.  My mother must have told Nancy to send me home when the show came on, probably fed up with my middle-of-the-night gothic melodrama.

Needless to say, Dark Shadows has always lived in some hidden corner of my brain with the elevated status as being the scariest thing ever--the thing of nightmares, literally.  But I was four years old when that show was on and have no clear memories of the characters or story lines.  And I've been curious, very curious.  My mom can't forbid me to watch anything anymore.

There is now a channel called Chiller.  It's the scary channel.  It's also often hokey, campy, especially when showing some of the older syndicated shows, and that is its appeal.  It also shows The Night Stalker, another old favorite of mine.  By the way, I love scary, but I don't do gory.

I couldn't believe it when I saw that there was going to be a Dark Shadows marathon.  At long last I'd be able to see, through adult eyes, what all the fuss and hoopla was about.  At last, I'd be able to see what had inspired nightmares in my childhood self.

It was a strange experience.  Stranger still once I realized what I was watching.  First, understand that since reading the Twilight books by Stephanie Meyers, I've been all about supernatural, paranormal novels.  I love the Charlaine Harris books (particularly the Sookie Stackhouse books which HBO's Trueblood series is based on) and the Laurell K. Hamilton books.  Basically one gets magic, wonder, adventure, action, and romance.  Great escapist fare.

I expected the special effects in Dark Shadows to be crude and amateurish.  I expected it to be somewhat over-acted.  I was right.  I was particularly taken aback by the Collingswood handyman who was a TERRIBLE actor, no matter what era we're talking about.  Barnabas's attacks on women were laughable.  But then I saw something strange that sent me straight to the computer and Google (actually Blackle, which IS Google, but the environmentally friendly version using a black screen and less juice.  Be responsible, and from now on go to www.blackle.com for all your searches).

I remembered that Barbara Eden had not been allowed to show her belly button in I Dream of Jeannie.  So how could it be, when Dark Shadows was from the same era in television that a female character
was allowed to wear a camisole on what was apparently a cold day?  Yes, visibly erect nipples.  I was shocked.  To the computer I ran and discovered that I was watching a REMAKE from the early 1990s!

CHEATED!  I felt so cheated.  The acting was so bad and the whole production was so campy that I'd been sure I was watching the real thing!  I mean, all the night scenes had obviously been filmed during the day--THAT'S HOW BAD IT WAS!  You'd think with this production being filmed in the '90's that they could have at least made the night scenes look like it was actually night.  With all the out-of-work, high-quality actors in the world, surely someone better could have been given the part of the handyman.  CHEATED, absolutely CHEATED.

And then I found out that what I was watching was actually the third incarnation of the series.  In disgust, a fit of pique, I grabbed the remote, went to my list, and hit delete.

Now Miranda is disgusted with me.  I'd forgotten that we talked about the show one night when she called me from D.C. and had wanted me to save it for her.  This conversation took place before the GREAT REVELATION.  I do have some regrets.  Honestly, I was enjoying the series, it took so little of my attention that I could wander in and out of the room and miss little, so I, perhaps, over-reacted to what I perceived was a betrayal by the Chiller network.  But I had wanted the original.

So that is what is on my hypothetical list for birthday or Christmas:  the ORIGINAL Dark Shadows series.  My curiosity remains unsatisfied.