I feel a little sheepish about admitting this, but I no longer remember what I was going to write my column about tonight. At one point, I think I really had a pretty good idea for one, and sort of remember even pitching the idea, but, boy, it’s gone now.
And the thing is, let’s face it, I’m an older gentleman and then some. and there’s a very good chance I’m finally losing my brain completely, but really, I shouldn’t look at it like that, because, man, what am I going to do, shoot myself? No! You get up, you shuffle along, you try to make the best of it, even though you know you can’t win, you’re going down, you know your body is in serious decline, times ten, really, I mean, it’s obvious, I’m done. I’m old, and tired… hell, I can’t even remember…
I remember I called Douglas and said I definitely had something going, it’s an idea that will be no sweat to write, a natural for the paper and quite a human interest story at that in the way the girl finally comes to accept the cat after Johanna gets lost in the fire, even though technically, it’s not even her cat.
I’m also upset because I’m in Florida at my crazy parents’ house and using their stupid Mac and can’t find the damn spell check which could be embrawrassing. See? Crrp!
Damn, what was it, though? I can remember all the little things I was going to add to my central conceit, but absolutely have no trace of what the headlining notion might’ve been. Hmph.
As long as I’m here, though, and faced in your general direction, I would like to observe: regarding “Celebrity Apprentice”, quick, blow up all these people now while we’ve got them all in one room, before any more if ’em slip out (we already missed Andrew Dice Clay, and we might never get a chance to blow him up with a bunch of other people this annoying again.)
Opportunity is knocking, people! They must film this somewhere; just find out where, and bring bombs.
Again we learn that celebrities are the worst, most relentlessly nasty slime around, but it never hurt this bad. I actually sort of wanted to know which one got kicked off, but I already had to take about a half hour off in the middle of the show because the people were just SO awful, and then I got back in, figuring I’d catch the last fifteen minutes and see who got booted, so I watched again for about ten minutes and I really had only five minutes to go to find out who got the ax and I COULD NOT DO IT.
By the way, I consider myself a person who can watch ANYTHING. Literally. At the Manor, we have the TV on at all times, partly for enjoying, but just as much for bludgeoning, and covering up the relentless yapping of the Kelp Hounds, black as night, dark as pitch, senselessly howling deep into the night, and you know, we both enjoy it. Mrs. Kelp, still ravishing at 26, of course, has her “progrums”, as she says, and they last all day and all night, but do mask the noises of the other animals, which is all to the good.
And I can watch all of them. I can watch “Will and Grace” without even breaking a sweat. I almost enjoy some of ABC’s daytime soaps. Oprah, Dr. Phil -again, celebrities, horrible people I am sworn to despise, but I pretend I like them for my wife’s sake, and no one is the wiser. If they had a show called “Where’s My Stitches?”, I would be able to watch it. “Carry My Broach” -I could watch that, too.
I only got beat once. “Orange County” was the one that broke me down. We watched on DVD, a whole bunch of them in a row, and I did, I watched them, a whole season, but I totally drew the line at Season Two. It was the same as trying to wait for the end of “Celebrity Apprentice”… I just couldn’t go another step. Like a Spartan with about eighty spears in him, I finally collapsed.
We’ve all had similar experiences, and you know, now that I think about it, I’d kind of like to hear yours. If you’re so idle and bored that you’d like to consign another few minutes of time that could’ve been used for something positive to oblivion, then by all means write to me here at Le Codder. Describe to me the occasion on which a television hurt you the most. It may’ve been one too many episodes of “Cannon”, or a particularly difficult “Three’s a Crowd”. Or, who knows? -even a passing relative. There’s so many possibilitities (damn this keyboard!)
I know you haven’t gone unscathed, and we can help! Well, there’s only really one of “us”, and no, we can’t actually help, but we would if I could
Tell us your story: write a letter (about watching TV! What could be more perverse?)
to me at: Hard Luck Tales Of Miserable Viewing ’09, Box 113, Eastham, MA 02642. And if anyone does, I promise to read it, right here in Le Codder, although not necessarily aloud if I think it’s scary.
We thank you.