SICUATE, MA – The white capped waves roll over the boulders and slam against the sea wall as a constant drizzle covers me. They call this chunk of coastline the Irish Riviera for a reason. This is the kind of moment that demands a redhead in a white cable knit sweater offering me a bowl of clam chowder while Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks leaks from behind the storm door. If I grew out my bald spot, this would be a perfect Bono moment.
Little did I know while staring at the sea that Brett Somers had passed away. Why weren’t the Post Office flags lowered to half mast? Why didn’t Dancing With the Stars get interrupted so the President could comfort us in this time of national grief? Why didn’t Time-Warner cable return GSN to the normal digital package so we could remember her greatness in a marathon of Match Game episodes? How could America go to bed without tears? Brett Somers was gone!
It was strangely appropriate that timing worked out this way. For it was in the greater Boston area that I discovered Brett during her glory days on Match Game. Summer vacations with the relatives always involved going up to my great uncles’ apartment where they religiously watched Match Game on their huge (for the time) color TV. My uncles weren’t the greatest of conversationalists so the wit of Brett and Charles Nelson Reilly dominated the room.
Brett and Charles came off as a great married couple. They knew how to poke each other without turning it into a brawl. Where does one go nowadays to see a “healthy” married couple on TV? Today’s TV watching child gets an afternoon of married couples brawling on Springer, cheating on Maury and being pathetic on Dr. Phil. Who wants to get married after seeing these sub-humans that have zero interest in being monogamous? Where’s the joy? Brett and Charles did more to defend marriage than a Congress full of divorced, closest cases. They practiced the fine art of prick and caress.
Brett was the greatest aunt that I never had. She was the great aunt that always forgot to send a birthday check, but I didn’t despise her for such a misgiving cause her visits were the greatest of gifts. Plus she was probably too buzzed on the Match Game ‘s cocktail cart to remember what day it really was. Why do people get uptight when celebrities appear on TV drunk? Brett was a fun woman on the Friday episodes because she was so buzzed. We need more happy drunk role models instead of the nasty drunks that appear on Cops.
Like Charles, back in the ’70s, a kid didn’t have a real clue why Brett was famous enough to be a regular on Match Game. How was I supposed to know about her Broadway career? Not all of us were born to be Frank Rich. But it was a thrill to see her as Oscar’s ex-wife on The Odd Couple TV series. She really could act when standing up. The recently released The Odd Couple: The Second Season contains her first appearances on the show. There’s a great episode where she, Oscar and Felix recall the New Year’s Eve party that lead to the divorce. Besides being a great aunt, she made the perfect ex-wife. Indeed she was so superb in the role that Jack Klugman and her separated while The Odd Couple was aired. They never divorced.
In barely two years time we have lost Nipsey Russell, Charles Nelson Reilly and now Brett. The greatest top row combination on Match Game has left us. Whenever lightening cracks across the sky, I shall tell my children that Brett has embarrassed Gene Rayburn. At least we still have Richard Dawson to give us a good shot at the Super Match. There’s always Fannie Flagg and Patti Deutsch to give us that last shot of matching redemption. Although if it comes down to Patti, you’re screwed. She was nuts in her answers.
Since there will be no national day of mourning for Brett and you might not get GSN (thanks for nothing, Time-Warner cable), may I recommend you pick up the boxset of Match Game or The Second Season of the Odd Couple. Remember that as long as Brett’s on your TV, she’s really deep in your heart.
ANOTHER SOX MOVIE?
The real reason for the visit to Boston is that I scored tickets for the Redsox-Yankees game for the September 14th game at Fenway. Amazingly enough the folks at the ballpark allowed me to take my video camera for a tour and during the game. I’m in the process of editing Riding the Monster. It’ll be posted here in a few weeks.
What does the film hold other than a vanity piece about me and my standing room space? I uncover the dark secrets of Fenway including the NL part of the Green Monster scoreboard, how they get water to the infield and the mysterious door in the owner’s box. Plus there’s footage of Peter Gammons talking to Joe Torre. And Jackie MacMullan of Around the Horn waves at the camera.
One moment I couldn’t shoot was when John Henry, the owner of the Redsox, came down the aisle toward me. I’ve joked in the past that Henry reminds me of David Bowie’s alien pal in Man Who Fell to Earth. Up close, he’s a bit not of this earth. As he approached, I said, “Nice evening for a game, sir.” At the time the Redsox were up 7-2. He gave me this puzzled nod and then kept walking. I’ve met other sport team owners. They’ve always been willing to able to say a real response and thanking me for coming out to the game. I flew hundreds of miles to stand for five hours. And he gives me a semi-brush off that I’d expect from George Steinbrenner. Jackie MacMullen waved from a distance. Maybe I should cut the guy some slack since his hedge fund has gone from $2.9 billion to $1.2 billion. Maybe he was trying to remember where he lost the TV Guide since there might be a billion stashed in the cover.
If you follow sports, you’ll realize that my game was known as the bullpen meltdown. The team entered the 8th leading 7-2. Then the allstar relief pitchers of Hideki Okajima and Jonathan Papelbon were destroyed by the Yankees. The inning ended with the Bronx Bombers leading 8-7. What went wrong? Who do we blame? I blame the usher in my section. Right before the start of the 8th inning, this guy went around with a box of Klennex. He handed everyone in a Yankees hat or t-shirt a tissue. He jinxed that bullpen. Do not tempt fate in Fenway. There are more prayers said every game in that green paradise than any mega-church’s midnight Mass. There’s no cockiness in Fenway. We’ve seen victory go into the dirt. Don’t you be thinking Bill Buckner. You must remember that if Bob Stanley hadn’t thrown the ball into the dirt, the Mets wouldn’t have scored the tying run. While Buckner blew the catch, odds were good the Sox would blow the ’86 World Series in extra innings. All Bob Stanley had to do was put a strike into Rich Gedman’s mitt and the game was over. Oh the agony. Now I must think about the 2004 World Series. Now it’s all good. Did you know for a week after they claimed the title, I feared the Redsox would lose the trophy because of a crazy ruling from the commissioner about a bylaw involving an illegal pinch hitting substitution. It can happen.
I don’t know the name of the usher that handles the first base side standing room area at Fenway. But if you see him holding a Kleenex box, rip it out of his hands. Don’t let him curse the Sox.
We were disappointed at the loss, but after watching nearly five hours of a nine inning ballgame, we were exhausted. We could have had our mail forwarded to Fenway. Although it would have to be General Delivery since we were standing roomers. Even with defeat, it was beautiful to witness the glory and the spite in person. At this moment, there is no greater rivalry than Sox-Yankees. And there’s no sweeter moment than watching my wife stare out at the field and scream, “A-Rod, you suck!!!!”
Now I need some Klennex.
OWEN OUT
In a shocking move, the Wilson family has announced that they have placed Owen on waivers and have replaced him with Matthew McConaughey. “Owen isn’t upholding the Wilson brand. His personal life has overshadowed our public persona. Too much heaviness. Sure Matthew has had his troubles with the law, but getting high and naked while playing the bongos appeals to the Wilson brand,” a source close to Luke Wilson reportedly said. “Plus he’s a Texan like us.”
Is it proper to hate on Wes Anderson because he’s allowed his personal fashion sense to overwhelm his movie? Why does the New York Times have to give us the inside skinny on his suede shoes? We used to wear those semi-Hush Puppies in Catholic High School (sneakers were banned). Does that mean I went to a “peripatetic” hot spot? And he “discovered” the Kinks’ Lola Versus Powerman and the Money-Go-Round, Part One! Wow. That’s really f’n obscure. I bet there’s not a single classic rock station that has ever played a track off that Kinks record. Maybe someday he’ll dig up an Atomic Rooster track. We also listened to that at Cardinal Gibbons High School. Is Wes Anderson really that far beyond us or is he merely aping school kids from decades ago?
Are we supposed to feel pity for Wes because he can’t slumber without his embroidered pajamas and dainty sleep mask? Oh the burden of being trapped in Wes Anderson’s creative body. Maybe he’ll have a dream of Lee Marvin kicking his ass for being such a major wuss? Guess it is easier to go on about a sleep mask than deal with the issue of a guy playing a suicide case who turns out to be a suicide case in real life. I’m already sick of The Darjeeling Limited.
McLOVIN MOMENT
For those who are fans of the movie Superbad, my brother Russ made a video visit to the convenience store featured in the film.
Fake IDs will be appreciated.
TASTE THE PARADISE
There’s a nasty rumor on the internet that I was Anthony Bourdain’s guide on the Travel Channel’s No Reservations. According to those lying sources the episode was called The Air Conditioned Nightmare Part 2. Instead of treating Bourdain to Southern delicacies like his visit to Charleston, South Carolina, I forced him to experience the New South. Instead of Mama Dip’s, Wilbur’s BBQ and the Underground, he was treated to the TGIFridays, Ruby Tuesdays, Olive Garden and Red Lobster. If you want to believe the internet, an assistant editor lost their will to live while watching Bourdain and myself chow down on the newest Southern favorite delicacy: The Bloomin’ Onion at Outback.
Allegedly for fun, I took Bourdain to the Crabtree Valley Mall where I mourned how Spencer’s Gifts is gone. Where will the kids go for their dirty birthday cards with hot firemen studs hauling their hoses and overweight women in bikinis? After nearly 30 years, the dream is gone at my crummy mall. He may bitch about what MTV and Disney did to Time Square, but where will I go for my Kiss salt and pepper shakers? Sure they have a Spencer’s at the new mall across town, but this place had tradition!
Afterwards we went to an indoor batting cage to practice where the pitching machine had been altered to throw beanballs at 8 year olds. Why should Les Moonves be the only one to profit off abusing children on TV? The big finale was a midnight visit to the Krispy Kreme where we each ate a dozen hot glaze donuts right off the rollers. There was medical personal nearby in case we got holes burnt on our inner cheeks. We wrapped up the night by throwing rocks at Clay Aiken’s house. Don’t you want to call your travel agent and live the dream?
Of course all of this is a lie and the Travel Channel will deny that this shoot ever took place. Bourdain will admit that he’s never heard of me and that he didn’t drive off with my copy of Television’s Marquee Moon in his rental SUV’s cd player. Although if you catch Bourdain slumbering on a flight from Tangier to Taos, you might hear him mutter, “Joe, not another Chalupa!”
NIGHTMARE OF RAMSAY
Speaking of celeb chefs, Gordon Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares lost its identity when they imported it. If you’ve seen the version that runs on BBC America, you’ve witnessed a series that feels like a sweet documentary as Gordon peacefully helps out troubled restaurants. There’s a civility as he transforms the troubled into the healthy. His personal voiceover has a tinge of grace. If you watch Fox’s remake, you’ll experience a cross between Jerry Springer and Extreme Makeover: Dinner Edition. Plus they hired that over dramatic voiceover guy from Hell’s Kitchen to hype rather than tap into Ramsay’s thoughts. The pilot episode was unbelievable. They found a restaurant that served him the worst food on his first visit. The chef didn’t seem to give a crap that he needed to serve up the A game to Ramsay’s plate. What self respecting chef would do that? The restaurant was a complete mess. Wouldn’t you clean up the joint if you knew a network show was arriving? When grandma visited, you cleaned the toilet. Why wouldn’t they make sure everything is picture perfect? The owner of the place kept attacking creditors on the outside sidewalk. He even threw his elderly father to the concrete in his rage. Can this really be real? Do people really act this way when “reality” cameras appear in their life? Or is this the price they have to pay for the show to provide them with all new kitchen equipment?
I felt that Ramsay was a loud mouth fraud on Hell’s Kitchen. What’s so special about risotto and Beef Wellington? But when I caught a few of his peaceful BBC shows, I saw the guy as a creative chef who was passionate about the dining experience. Why did Ramsay have to destroy his image again? What’s he doing on his show that wasn’t captured on the episode of I Pity The Fool when Mr. T saved an Italian restaurant?
Before he saves anymore kitchens, Ramsay needs to save his identity.
KELLOGG’S KILLER
Why do the folks at Kellogg’s want to kill your children?
I’m not talking about the corn syrup they use to sweeten your cereal instead of sugar, nature’s sweetener. They created the most horrific idea ever for a children’s snack: Lego Fun Snacks. You think I’m lying? Look at the proof:
http://www2.kelloggs.com/Product/ProductDetail.aspx?product=8213
The evil scientists at Kellogg’s have devised the most destructive snack treat of all time. How many times do you have to tell a small child to not put Legos in their mouth? How many times were you told that Legos were not food? And how many kids get rushed to the emergency room because those colored building blocks were too tempting?
So what the hell do the fine folks at Kellogg’s do? Make it so kids can finally eat their Legos. This would all be fine and dandy if there were no more non-edible Legos at Toys ‘R Us. But we don’t live in that world, do we? You may say I’m over reacting. Do you believe that two year old kids are smart enough to tell the food and the toy apart? While I’m not a complete expert on 2 year olds, I do have experience taking things out of their mouths. They’re like dogs when it comes to putting crap in their mouth. You have to train them and when something comes along that ruins the “good” and “bad” logic, you’re screwed. They will eat the wrong things and you pay the consequences. The folks at Kellogg’s deny it was ever their fault.
All I hear about in the media is the rise of autistic children in America. Does Kellogg’s care if they confuse an autistic kid into thinking that all Legos are fair game for munchies? Why aren’t the various organizations for autistic children protesting this devious product? They have an easy target to drag before Congress. Why isn’t Jenny McCarthy protesting Legos Fun Snacks before her kid gets a mouthful of the wrong blocks?
Where is the common sense from the heads of Kellogg’s when it comes to new products? Do James M. Jenness and A.D. David Mackay have souls? It’s obvious that this was a product developed by Satan. Dr. Benjamin S. Carson, the Director of Pediatric Neurosurgery for Kellogg’s, needs to have his medical license yanked for allowing this product to touch the lips of children. Civil War surgeons wouldn’t have staked their reputations on Lego Fun Snacks. Was Dr. Carson a student of Dr. Moreau?
What’s next for Kellogg’s? How about Drano juiceboxes? When will we get edible dry cleaner bags from Battle Creek? How about a snack bar that’s a working Zippo lighter? Let’s roll out a fruit roll that looks just like a highway dividing line so kids can run into traffic when they want a tasty treat. I fear that Jenness, Mackay and Carson will have their demonic research department developing my ideas. These people have no care for your children. They’re too concerned with cultivating a suicide garden that’s hydrated with corn syrup.
The nice part is how Kellogg’s website has a place to click for “Family Focus.” That focus must include bringing families together at the funerals of children that choked to death on Legos.
RETRO REJOICE
Remember my rant about TVLand transforming into a middle aged reality channel? Well there shall be no more sniping at TVLand. Why? Did they do something amazing? Did they find the errors in their way? Nope.
I found something better in the Retro TV Network. This syndicated network has scored deals with Paramount and Universal to create a programming delight for folks who can’t stand another “look at me” reality show. This is old TV for people who enjoy watching TV.
During the week they show Streets of San Francisco, Gomer Pyle, Cannon, Ironside, Rockford Files, The Fugitive, Quincy, Get Smart, Perry Mason, Mission Impossible, The Untouchables, Matlock, Hawaii Five-0, Magnum P.I. , Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous and the greatest show known to Mankind: Love, American Style. On weekends they have Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew, Bonanza, Rawhide, Gunsmoke (including the black and white 30 minute early ones), Wild Wild West, Greatest American Hero, A-Team, Knight Rider, Airwolf, Buck Rogers, Alias Smith and Jones and It Takes a Thief.
Tubious, the TV god, has listened to my prayers. Although he skipped over Batman, The Six Million Dollar Man and Space Giants. Plus Brad Honecutt wants Mannix. But this is a great start.
A local station has decided to use RTN as the programming on their bonus digital channel. Hopefully a smart station manager in your town will give you the gift of Love, American Style. The only downside is that from 1 a.m. to 10 a.m., it’s a paid programming marathon, but this is a good excuse to get sleep. You’ll need plenty of energy to make it through the plot of Quincy.
On a different channel, American Life has Irwin Allen night on Thursdays. Get your fill of Lost In Space, Time Tunnel, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and Land of the Giants once a week.
MOVING PEOPLE?
The footage of the college student getting Tasered and the cellphone salesmen getting shot has shown a strange truth about America – we don’t give a crap. Did you notice how none of the other college students in the frame seemed outraged or fearful as their classmate was manhandled by campus security? As the guy is screaming from the 50,000 watts pumped through his body, there’s a row of kids who look utterly bored by the situation. After winning the football and basketball titles, it must take a lot to get the Gators to react. They weren’t even eyeballing as bystanders. They were zombies.
The same can be said about the youth sitting near a cellphone store. The salesman takes a gun shot in the chest from robbers. Do the kids duck for cover? Pull out a cellphone and call 911? Nope. They just barely look over to see the commotion. Heaven forbid any of these kids drop behind a car. Those kids look as bored as the college students.
Remember when America had a gag reflex towards violence? What happened to caring enough to protect our asses? Is Duck and Cover too much to remember for the Text-Message crowd? I don’t expect heroes in these situations, but please be repulsed and willing to save your ass from a dangerous moment.
RIGHT TITLE, WRONG FILM
Here’s a quick warning: Planet of Junior Brown on Showtime has nothing to do with the musician Junior Brown. Although that does sound like the perfect title for a documentary about the real Junior Brown.
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