The Scared and the Profane

See, here's the thing. I don't like to take my blog too seriously. Anytime that I find myself driftin' into serious topics, I try to bring it back to the absurd.

I try not to fall into dogmas, as I believe that the dogmatic cannot laugh. Insert your favorite Kevin Smith reference or 'karma ran over your dogma' joke here.

So it is with a heavy heart that I find that it's not my place to talk about subjects I would like to approach, because I try to find 'the joke' in everything, and there's not much to joke about a street shooting.

My family went to Yonge Street on December 26th, like so many other Boxing Day shoppers. I stood in perhaps the same spot as the girl who was shot, about half an hour earlier. It's a strange feeling.

I saw on the news today that she had a blog, and they used her last entry to serve as her memorial. Though it is quite a disturbing thought, I wonder if my legacy is that I deconstructed Avril Lavigne and was able to remember all sorts of 90s one hit wonder bands.

Makes you wonder.

Though far far less personal, I also want to write about the bizarre Jeff Reardon case. For those of you not in the know, Jeff Reardon was a former relief pitcher for the Montreal Expos, among other teams. His greatest claims to fame prior to last week were:

1. Not wanting to come into Game 5 of the NLCS versus the Dodgers because the field was muddy. Expos manager Jim Fanning instead inserted Steve Rogers, their best starting pitcher, into the 9th inning of a 1-1 game, and he allowed a Home Run to Rick Monday. The day forever became known as Blue Monday, due to the home run hitter, the fact that the game was played on a Monday, the weather, and the mood of the Expos fans. Was it Reardon's fault? That's a matter of debate. Was it Pedro's fault for staying in Game 7 too long? Personally, I think that if your best option are a forty-one year old Woodie Fryman, Bill 'Spaceman' Lee, a guy with a 1.30 e.r.a. during the regular season or your best starting pitcher, the choice becomes obvious. Even if the game is tied, I think you put in your best guy, and if possible, not a career starting pitcher. But hey, World Series management, like hindsight, is 20/20.

2. Eleven years later, Reardon again gets traded midseason and pitches brilliantly down the stretch. This time, instead of going from the Mets to the Expos, Reardon goes from the Red Sox to the Braves. This time in the NLCS, Reardon comes into the clinching Game 7 down 2-0, keeps the Pirates off the score sheet, and the Braves rally for 3 runs in the ninth in an incredible comeback, sparked by Francisco Cabrera, (who?), and his pinch-hit single. Who was he pinch-hitting for? Why, Reardon, of course! Anyways, Reardon is the winning pitcher and all is well. The Braves go on to their second straight World Series, where they play (sigh) the Toronto Blue Jays. The Braves win Game 1 due to Tom Glavine's gem, and stake a 4-3 lead in Game 2. Out comes Reardon in the eighth inning, (uh-oh), to strike out Kelly Gruber and end the threat. But in the Jays ninth, Reardon walks Derek Bell, and out steps Ed Sprague to pin-hit, the same Ed Sprague who hit all of one (1) home run the entire year, and five in his career to that point. Of course, we all now what happened next. Sprague stunned everyone by hitting it out of the park, the Jays got the momentum back and won their first World Series in six games.

There you have it. Two out of the three greatest home runs in Canadian sports history, (aside from Carter in 93') and Jeff Reardon played a pivotal part in both of them. One might even be inclined to argue that the entire face of Canadian baseball shifted because of these two home runs. The Blue Jays are considered winners because they won two World Series. This allowed them to stay competitive, (sort of), during their lean years, and no talk of contraction ever entered the picture. The Expos, on the other hand, were not so lucky. Had they managed to make the World Series in 1981, they would have faced a Yankees team that had a losing record in the second half of a split season. Had they won the Series, (the Dodgers did, even with Rick Monday striking out 6 of the 13 times he came to bat), I speculate the Expos would still be playing in Montreal right now, regardless of the 1994 strike season. I further speculate that if the Jays lost the 1992 World Series, who knows? Instead of tradin' for Troy Glaus and signing B.J. and A.J., they might have become the Kansas City Royals of the Major Leagues...or worse, (okay, it can't really get any worse).

Who do we have to thank for these developments???

Jeff Reardon, that's who.


Okay, there's more to Reardon that those two games. He also saved Game 7 of the 1987 World Series for the Twins and collected 367 career regular season saves. He was also known for his bushy beard, and his nickname, the Terminator, (though we all know that Tom Henke wore that nickname much better). I honestly feel bad for Reardon. His son o.d.'d and somehow his medication or lack of it led him to rob a bank. But I would much rather focus on vast baseball conspiracy theories than talk about actual news events or serious subjects. I would also much rather deconstruct Sisqo's 'Thong Song' rather than write about 'King Kong'. Coming soon: a deconstruction of Sisqo's 'Thong Song'. Also, this may end up being my last post of the year, unless I fire off a quick one at Sara's house in London. I am goin' to London for New Year's, and in the holiday spirit, all are advised to check out Sara's latest post at eclectic-eel.blogspot.com. She's a much better writer than I.

As for me, I'm off to pack and perhaps sleep. I wish everybody a safe end to 2005, and here's to more, (perhaps even daily???) Traps musings in '06.

Until next year, keep on rockin' chair.

What did Delaware?

She wore her brand New Jersey.

All I want for Christmas is a replica Walter Young #75 Orioles Jersey. However, I would settle for a Vlad, or a Kapler, or perhaps even a Pedro. Anybody out there that can hook me up with a jersey seller? DC?

This concludes the craiglist / ebay portion of this blog. Merry flippin' Chanukah!

Schlocky

I have an idea! For the upcoming baseball season, to increase run scoring, games that go to extra innings are played seven on seven, to see if either team scores a run for the next couple of innings. If this doesn't work, they next go to a home run hitting contest, or perhaps a 'bunt-off', and the team triumphs gets the win...but the other team is awarded with half a win.

Furthermore, first and third basemen are not allowed to play balls that are hit in foul territory, and umpires will crack down on stops in play, as intentional foul balls are now considered 'outs'.

Nah, that sounds like the realm of stupid sports.

A Taste You'll Savor

I've got a holiday movie edition of a blog post comin' soon, but I thought I would mention this before I forgot for another eight years.

***** Warning *****

This maybe a Canadian only post. In fact, it may only be understood by those who are familiar with television commercials of the late 90s. Everybody else can just sit tight 'til the next one.

So today I went shopping for all kinds of wonderful food, like Count Chocula, Chef Boyardee, Sour Cream and Bacon chips. Oh, and triple creme Brie. Also, apple cider for Sara. Rather than the Loblaws I normally frequent, today I somehow ended up at an IGA, which I believe stands for 'something Grocery something'. I am not sure whether this contributed to my discovery or not, but somewhere in the Boyardee aisle, I stumbled across a little piece of my childhood - Italpasta.

Now I'll be honest with you: I'm not really that big into pasta. Something about noodles and tomato sauce seems kind of boring, so for all you who dig that sort of thing, my apologies to you and your mother. This is my way of saying that my memory of Italpasta doesn't stem from actually eating it myself, but from watchin' the television ads and wondering what the Italpasta people were sellin'.

For those of you who forget, the Italpasta ads featured really soft focus lighting, some shots of a romantic couple, and most alarmingly, a generic singer intoning
'Open up your mouth, give yourself some flavor, Italpasta, a taste you'll savor tonight'. This gave me the impression that Italpasta wasn't meant to be eaten, but to be savored. In other words, it sounded like Italpasta's primary function was for something quite different than eating.

For starters, the word 'Ital' sounds almost like a slur, an description that someone would use to describe a shifty Italian guy who would go around pickin' up women at clubs like the Brunny, of which I was not yet old enough to frequent. While this description ended up bein' quite apt, it is in no way exclusive to 'Itals'.

The commercial gave me the idea that all you had to do to get lucky was to pick up some random girl, prepare her a bowl of 'Italpasta', and she would instantly melt into your arms. Italpasta seemed to be selling itself as the ultimate aphrodisiac, and that no matter how homely or pathetic you were, if you had Italpasta at the ready, you'll always get lucky. And maybe this is true in the case of a woman who can appreciate the quality of a man who can cook homemade pasta, but as I already made clear, there doesn't seem to be anything attractive about limp noodles. Throw a little seafood or cheese in, and now we're gettin' somewhere, but the 'homemade pasta' market seems to be targeting the guys that would be ahead of the game if they knew how to boil water, and wouldn't want to bother using a plate, never mind extra ingredients.

This may be why the Italpasta commercial kind of reminded me of a sex ad. It seemed as though the pasta was delicious that it would be an experience all in itself to prepare it, and that there would be no need to invite over a comely lass to share in the pasta's decadence. The commercial's declaration that "You've gotta taste it", seemed to be for the guys who are cookin' it than the women that would be sharin' it.

Thanks, but I'll stick to my Kraft Dinner. Nothin' sexy about that.

Enchanted Avril

So a couple of days ago I stumbled upon the hot fresh Muchmusic 'joint', called simply: '#1s'. It appears to have the same format as their previous shows 'So 90s', and "One hit wonders", wherein the examine the cultural legacy left behind by, say Silverchair or the Baha Men, (but not both together, thankfully). However the difference in this show, is that they look back on the cultural legacy left behind by bands that were not one hit wonders, like The Ataris, Maroon 5, Dirty Vegas, and...okay, so it's the exact same show, repackaged. At least it beats those lame 'Much Talks' specials, wherein Kardinal Offishall, Rick Campenelli, Jian Ghomeshi, some tattooed Goth girl and Ed the Sock discuss bullying.

Anyways, in this fine installment of "#1s", as I thought about the Nelly song "#1" and how lame it is, they played the very first video from an artist that seemed so slight at the time, and feels so faraway now, but between, oh, say 2002 and 2004, she was the greatest force in Canadian music history. I'm talkin', of course, about Avril Lavigne, as blaring on my screen was the mercurial 'Complicated'.

It's hard to believe that at a time not too long ago, Avril was the queen of the airwaves, an instant sensation from the small town of Napanee. She was the pop-punk princess, hell-bent on destroying Hilary, Lindsay, and Britney with her riot grrl image and snarky attitude. Only the 'snarky attitude' turned out to be real, as she was only eighteen at the time. The 'non-manufactured' part, was of course, a complete crock. How 'punk' can you actually be if you a. grew up in Bumblefuck, Ontario hoping to become a star by performing at Shania Twain concerts, singing country music and getting discovered at a Kingston Chapters, and b. Getting The Matrix, responsible for tracks from Ricky Martin and Christina Aguilera to write 'Complicated' for you. Legend has it that it was a billed as a collaboration between Avril and the songwriting team, when in reality, Avril's sole contribution to the song was to change the line 'take off off your stupid clothes' to 'take off all your preppy clothes'. Oooh....punkish!

I still have trouble figuring out what's punk about the song 'Complicated'. Is it the bouncy melody, which was later copied almost by rote by The Matrix for the once credible Liz Phair, in her crossover song "Why Can't I?" Or is the fact that Avril and her gang create a punkish video where they 'crash the mall', resulting in hilarious hijinks like...well...the band gettin' chased by a guy wearin' a hot dog costume. But wait a minute! There's people skateboardin' in the background! Wait, I know what makes 'Complicated' a true punk anthem! It's the song's underlying message not to act like something you are not. That's punk's legacy, right there. Oh God, there's one more punkish thing about Complicated Avril. The tie. Who can ever forget the image of Avril wearin' a man's tie over her white beater. This, I believe was the definitive fashion statement of the last five years, rivaled only by 'blazer over an ironic t-shirt', favored by many a Dance Caver.

Look, this post isn't my attempt to rag on Avril. I'll leave that job to my brother, who once compared Avril to some commercial in which a really scary lookin' metal band takes the stage and proceeds to sing 'A Bicycle built for two'. That sounds like Avril to me. A lot of fire, gusto and venom, giving way to songs that sound exactly like everything else on the radio, albeit incredibly catchy. I'll give it to Avril, the tracks 'Complicated', the lavish 'Sk8r Boi', and the lilting 'I'm With You' are / were genuinely catchy songs. I saw some interview with Avril where she claimed to prefer harder rockin' tunes like 'Losing Grip', which happened to Avril's fourth single off 'Let Go', (of what, per se?). In what I attribute to be no coincidence whatsoever, 'Losing Grip' was indeed Avril's hardest rockin' song, blithely following the loud, quiet, loud format, done so many times before. It was also Avril's first single that was not co-written by the Matrix. And lastly, 'Losing Grip' represents the moment that Avril lost her grip on public consciousness. It was easily her lamest single to date.

Go on, sing a few bars from 'Complicated'. It's easy. I know you remember it. Here I'll start: "Chill out, whatcha yellin' for". Now you sing "Lay back, it's all been done before". Pretty soon you'll be hummin' "Somebody else, round everyone else" and launchin' full on into the chorus. Try it with "Sk8er Boi", a wonderfully over the top song, (and movie too?), that perfectly encapsulates Avril's joie de vivre "Sorry girl but you missed out, well tough luck that boy's mine now. We are more than just good friends, this is how the story ends". I still think it totally rips off the guitar riff from American Hi-Fi's "Flavour of the Weak", (damn, how could I have forgotten to invite American Hi-Fi to my Big Shiny Tunes concert??? I guess I was too stoned. Nintendo.) Stolen licks aside, Avril makes things completely clear on this song "He was a boy. She was a girl. Can I make it anymore obvious?" No Avril, you can't, and that's what we love about you.

Finally, "I'm With You", Avril's first power ballad, the irresistible chorus "It's a ddamn cold night! Tryin' to figure out this life!" made the song. I remember hearin' that song about fifteen times, (it was on heavy rotation on MuchMusic), and each time thinkin' how catchy it was, before it became annoying In contrast, Pink, at her peak, took about three listens until her songs went from catchy to annoying. That's a fivefold increase, and so very important in the pop...oh sorry 'pop-punk' world. By the way, those Avril lyrics, I didn't look them up and reprint them, like I have to do so many other times. And no, I'm not embarrassed about this. These songs are tattooed in my memory for a reason, as they are really catchy tunes. I don't know if there is a formula for makin' a hit song, but Avril had it. Then she lost it.

Quick, sing the chorus, or even a verse of 'Losing Grip'. You can't. Sure, it was as overplayed as the other songs, but it just didn't have 'it'. To this day, all I can remember from this song is "why should I care?", and that seems quite apt.

Poor Avril. It just spiraled after that. Datin' and then breakin' up with her guitarist. Dissin' the ties that made her so famous. The ass crack. Replayin' the ass crack. Snarlin' at cameras and flippin' the bird. That stupid fuss when she wore a 'Napanee Home Hardware' shirt on SNL. Derrick. The list goes on with useless Avril trash I seem to remember post Avrilmania, (sidenote - sometimes I can't find my way home at night and forget where I live. Yes I am a pop culture idiot savant).

None of this should have put a dent in Avril's career. What did ultimately end it for Avril, (no, it wasn't hittin' puberty, smartass), was her second album, of which I don't even know the name. Rather than go back to the well and recruit The Matrix a second time, she asked Chantal Kreviazuk to write her a whole bunch of tunes, which made her sound like...Chantal Kreviazuk! What is Chantal's specialty, other than landin' Raine Maida? Wistful piano ballads and that completely unnecessary cover of "Leavin' on a Jet Plane". Once Avril startin' gettin' rotation on MuchMoreMusic, she was through. Nothin' ruins a popular young singer's cred among teenagers than playin' music that their parents would enjoy. Last time I saw Avril, (and no, I am not makin' this up), she was playin' the parking lot of The Tonight Show in Jay Leno's 'Summer Concert Series' and wearin' devil horns. She performed a Chantal song called 'He Wasn't' and it wasn't very good. Not by Avril standards, not even by a long shot. The audience was made up of thirty year olds. It was kinda sad.

Though Avril might be able to reach bag into her bag of tricks, it really is astounding to see her now and think ''man, she used to have really catchy songs', when at one time, she was the princess of pop. Not Britney. Definitely not Christina. Hell, even more than Alanis in her prime, (1994-95), and Avril didn't even need to record a song about fellatin' Uncle Joey in a theatre. She just sang about skateboarding and admonishing those who wear preppy clothes. Why did she feel the need to bother deviating from the formula? Was it to assert her 'individuality'?

Every time you turned on the radio or television, there was Avril. It could have gone on like this ad nauseum.

Why did she have to go and make things so complicated?

Save Tonight

This one year I went to Edgefest, it was probably '98, and the Verve Pipe were there. they were ridin' high off the song 'The Freshmen', and, as we all know, that was the extent of their fame. For the life of me, I can not remember...any of their other songs.

So at about 8 p.m. the Verve Pipe got on stage...and left at about 8:12. Everybody booed them, and then we had to wait like another hour before I Mother Earth showed up, which in retrospect should have been a good thing. I (hate) Mother Earth.

What I later found out is that the lead singer or guitarist or whatever of the Verve Pipe got hit with a stray bottle, so he got mad and left. Remember bottle throwing? Wasn't that awesome?!?

It took me until now to realize that The Verve Pipe were ahead of their time, (not musically, of course, as they sound like a British Nickleback). What would they have possibly done if the bottle chuckin' hadn't taken place? Would they have played for a whole hour before endin' with 'The Freshman'? Sorry, but I would rather bash my head with a verve pipe than listen to any of their 'other songs'. Call me a snob if you like, but when it comes to crappy bands of the late 90s, I can like them ironically, (and often do), but this ironic like extends only to their hit songs and nothin' else.

I don't like to publicize my projects until they are actually completed, but this one I'll need a little help with, so here goes:

A benefit concert bringin' together all of the one, two and no hit wonder wonder rock bands of the late 90's! It will sort of be like 'Big Shiny Tunes...Live'. And of course, Live will be an invited guest. They will be allowed to play 'Lightning Crashes', and perhaps that other song of theirs, collect their twenty bucks and leave. Are you tellin' me that Live would turn down a gig like this? A band's gotta Live!

Okay, there will a side stage at this gig, where future shitty rock bands can perform their one hit and leave. Louis XIV, you can play 'Findin' out True Love is Blind', but that's it. If I really did have true love for them, I would be deaf. The Kaiser Cheifs are allowed to do two songs: 'Everyday I Love you Less and Less', and 'I Predict a Riot', but if they ran through any more of their songs, I would love them less and less, and there really would be a riot.

But the main event is for the shitty rock forefathers, so Eagle-Eye Cherry can start it off with 'Save Tonight', because it's these bands careers that we're really tryin' to save. Meredith Brooks can play 'Bitch', but better not bitch at me about playin' anything else. Sugar Ray is allowed to do both 'Fly' and 'Every Morning', and then they're gonorrhea. I can stand to listen to 'All Star' by Smash Mouth, or perhaps even 'Walkin' on the Sun', but if they're still on stage when the mornin' comes, I'll smash Steve Harwell in the mouth. Fabricated bands like Sugar Jones and O-Town can come too, but only if they can get the time off from the Jamba Juices in which they now work. How much longer will anybody even remember that they even existed? I wonder if the guy from The New Radicals now works in the mall. He got what he gave. The grown-up brats from Hanson can MMM-bop on by, but only if they don't get all preachy. I guess that Savage Garden can show up if they Truly, Madly, Deeply want to be there, and don't mind livin' like animals. Other bands will have to perform a service. Dishwalla will actually have to count blue cars, Deep Blue Something must bring breakfast, (from Tiffany's or wherever), and the boys from Better than Ezra can sell refreshments or something, Good.

The Matthew Good Band can pick one tune, since all of their songs are exactly the same. I hope that Fastball can find the way. Marcy Playground can find sex and candy here, but nothing else. Chumbawamba will get knocked down but won't get back up again if they play anything other than Tubthumping. Joan Osborne might have to take the bus. The Wallflowers will drive it home with one headlight, unless they experience sixth avenue heartache. Soul Asylum can take a Runaway Train. On their way, Train will accompany them, where they will Meet Virginia. Well, they say Misery loves company. Hopefully, drops of Jupiter will fall. The Moffatts know all about Misery, especially the guy who lost on Canadian Idol. Why didn't he fade into oblivion, like they guy from Serial Joe? That wasn't a mistake. Harvey Danger might be a no show. He's not sick, but he's not well. Also, Duncan Sheik might have health issues, as he's barely breathing. Toad the Wet Sprocket will have to rely on their good intentions. The Mighty Mighty Bosstones sound interested. That's the impression that I get. To publicize the show, I'll hire the Spin Doctors. If they want to tell me maybe, they can just go ahead now.

Of course, I may run into some problems along the way. Go on and fool me, but I don't care about anything else the Cardigans will play. Damn! I forgot about Sophie B. Hawkins! And Shawn Mullins! I hope everything's gonna be alright. Donna Lewis won't mind. She loves me always forever. Paula Cole doesn't want to wait for the concert to be over. Blues Traveler is givin' me such a Run-Around! I wouldn't sell my collective soul in order to get their dim light to shine again. Luckily, Everclear's performing schedule is everclear. Wonderful. Third Eye Blind? I want something else! Now Vertical Horizon, they're everything I want. So Matchbox 20 want to push me around, well I want to take them for granted. I'm sure I can find Ricky Martin. I doubt he's livin' la vida employad. Too harsh? I'm sure that the Presidents of the United States of America could take their lumps. However, insults might make Lit completely miserable. Hoepfully, I could get another chance and put it in a ziplock bag. Besides, they are their own worst enemy, (a three hit wonder? They really lit it up and then flamed out!)

I have a serious confession to make. I'm not yet ready to ironically enjoy nu-metal. Papa Roach would be my last resort. Linkin Park just makes me numb, Disturbed is just disturbing, and I've got to have faith that nobody will ever enjoy Limp Bizkit in any way. Hey Fred Durst, shut the fuck up! On the other hand, I'll sacrifice and welcome Creed with arms wide open, and let them to take me higher, to a place where blind men see. Alter Bridge, though? Open you eyes! I'll leave Alter Bridge concerts to Johnny Damon.

Last act of the 'Save Tonight' concert? Why Semisonic, of course! After that, it's closing time. Every new beginning leads to some other beginning's end. I know what I don't want to take home though. An entire album (cover) from any of the above listed bands.

Who in their right mind ever bought entire CDs of these bands? It wasn't me.

Sitcom and gone

The golden age of the sitcom has long since past. This revelation came to me over my shared interest with Sara over Who's the Boss?, which wasn't really unique in any way, (career woman, slutty mom, Italian former athlete), but did have a great twist, (he's her housekeeper!)

Angela!

Samantha!

Eh-oh, oh-eh!

This is just one of more than a dozen classic sitcoms, that honestly did nothing to stretch the genre in any way, but made for damn fine entertainment. There were black shows and white shows, but they all followed basically the same format. Catchy theme song. Wacky characters. Puns. Stunt casting. Problem. Resolution. Credits.

Safe. Warm. Familiar.

Perfect Strangers, Family Matters, Growing Pains, Step by Step, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, Saved by the Bell, Golden Girls, ALF, Out of the World, Full House, Married...with Children, Cheers, Night Court, Blossom, (until it became all dramatic), Wings, Frasier, Dharma and Greg, (I guess), Family Ties, Roseanne, The Drew Carey Show, The Cosby Show, Home Improvement, Norm, Ellen, Becker, (okay, not Becker) et al, (I'm sure I've missed plenty).

Oh, there was one sitcom I intentionally left out. The one that inadvertently destroyed the entire genre. Perhaps the most revolutionary show in the history of television. A show about a stand-up comedian and his three friends. A show about nothing. Sitcoms haven't been the same since.

Don't even talk to me about Friends or Sex and City or Desperate Housewives, as all three fit nicely in a different genre: the 'funny' relationship dramas geared towards women, created by and featuring gay men, who are often disguised as women.

No, the conventional three camera, often family based or workplace set sitcom has not ever recovered from Seinfeld, as the most popular and groundbreaking sitcoms to come out since then are not even sitcoms at all, but something else entirely. They often feature extreme pathos, no laughtrack, and are often more despressing than most dramas. I'm talkin' about your Bernie Macs, Undeclared, Malcolm in the Middle, (when it didn't suck), Andy Richter Controls the Universe, Scrubs, (before Zack Braff became every fifteen year old emo girl's crush), everybody's favorite underdog Arrested Development, (which is waaaayyyy overrated, imho), and shows of the like. I guess we can include animated shows here to, but that would be stretching the point. Of course, it is not necessary to mention the funniest show of all, Curb, which is Seinfeld taken to its fullest (non-sitcomish) potential, nor do I need to include the 'sitcomesque' Da Ali G show, which is a different bird entirely.

What's left in the 'conventional' sitcom genre? Everybody Loves Raymond, which I can't stand, The King of Queens, which is essentially the same show, all of the other Raymond clones, which I don't even want to mention by name, and the most popular current sitcom on TV, (numbers-wise at least), Two and Half Men, which I, a TV junkie, have watched for about Two and Half Minutes.

It's not that these shows are too lowbrow or predictable for me, as lowbrowness and predictability worked quite well in the 'golden age' shows listed above. It's just that these new shows insult our intelligence by pretending to stretch the genre. One of these carbon copy shows, I think it was called 'Rodney', had the audacity to do a gay themed episode, (quel dommage!), but handled the issude with the same kid gloves that ultimately doomed Ellen's supposedly forward thinking sitcom, (which was much funnier before it was supposed to become a forum for leftist politics). In other words, the shows are exactly the same as I remember them...yet, not so much.

I kind of see it as a polarity. The 'unconventional' sitcoms, (oh, and yes, The Daily Show counts), are supposed to handle all of the hot-button, taboo, and socially charged, the 'serious funny' issues, while the tradional sitcoms are left to deal with the 'funny funny' jokes, which means you've got stereotypes, sight gags, safe potty and sexual humor, and of course, puns.

Now these 'funny funny' jokes fit shows like Who's the Boss? and Full House just fine, because ultimately, the characters were likeable, the families were comforting, and everybody was generally good to each other. Now, with unconventional sitcoms presenting unlikable characters and fractured families and conflicts played for laughs, with often hilarious results, somehow the trads somehow felt that they had to follow this pattern as well.

This is why I blame Seinfeld and Everybody Loves Raymond for destroying the popular and traditional and likeable family sitcom. Seinfeld succeeded because it didn't force you to root for the characters. Every time George or Elaine got their oneuppance, it created an amusing situation, because they deserved it. Seinfeld seems almost like a Beckett work, as the comedy was wrapped in tragedy and vice versa. We identified with the characters, but then we pulled back because they were too much like us, the parts of ourselves that we keep hidden, so we pretended to cheer against them. I would get into a discussion about Jung and shadow, but that will make me sad that I never explored this concept further in last year's class where I could have done this for credit.

Curb takes Seinfeld's gags to the next level, as nothing is ever resolved happily, everything is made more uncomfortable, and Larry David is truly difficult to cheer for, but just as much as every other character in the Curb universe. Jeff, Susie, Cheryl, the guest stars, they are each possessing of their own moral code, but it is built upon a foundation of uselessness. They are all idiots full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. At least Seinfeld had a laugh track.

But then we come to Everybody Loves Raymond. Traditional family setting? Check. Confused everyman character with wife, children, parents, brother, hey, we can all relate to that, right? But Everybody Loves Raymond differs from the trad norm in that, like Seindfeld, the characters are all unlikeable. And hey, conflict is funny, right? Sadly, ELR gives them nothing to do. While Seindfeld played upon the minutiae of everyday life and mined it for comic gold, (Junior Mints, low talkers, eating out of the garbage, shrinkage, contests), making them all instantly recognizable out of context, I can't think of a single thing Raymond has brought to the realm of pop culture. If you were making a Trivial Pursuit question about Ray, what would you put in it? That his parents live across the street? That his wife rebuffs his advances?
Is this supposed to be funny? It's not an edgy or provocative sitcom simply because there are no happy endings, and nobody to cheer for. Perhaps it appeals to middle class slobs who can relate to Ray's problems. But even the 'new' sitcoms are supposedly escapist, right? Seinfeld is based in reality, but it's a sort of hyperreality, which bounces along with the bass line, (or in the case of Curb, a tuba).

Even when I was seven, I knew that Full House wasn't based in reality. Those speeches just seemed a little too rehearsed, but I didn't care, as every episode took you right back to the same place. Even the 'wackier' sitcoms succeeded in making the extraordinary, (like aliens), seem ordinary. The 'new' generation makes the ordinary extraordinary, even in fact-based shows like The Daily Show, (which seems to be saying "can you believe how fucked up the world is?")

Look, we know sitcoms are trite, but they can be trite without insulting our intelligence. Just make a show where we care about the people in it, even if they have human, (or non-human) flaws like we do, and we'll start watching them again.

Or maybe it's too late, and non-boundary pushing shows just can't be funny anymore. That would be no laughing matter.

Ahhh puns. See they can comfort you.

Non-Friction

What would happen if your window broke, say, from having a baseball go through it, and you had to go shopping for a new one? Would you ever be able to actually purchase anything? "Thanks, but I'm just lookin'"

See, this is what happens when I'm happy with pretty much everything that's goin' on my life. All my drama seems to be invented, (or created), by me. Sure, I'm saddened by cold weather, the end of Curb, no baseball, wakin' up early in the mornin', (yeah right!), friends who hibernate and don't leave their condos, fightin' amongst my children, career advice, expired driver's licenses, McDonalds hangovers, and, well, there's not that much else. I'm happy, thus my creative output slows. No drama equals less 'comedy'.

Are Belle and Sebastian goin' to record another song entitled "LoDuca, New York Catcher", with the line "Are you straight or are you...wait..."

***** Breaking News *****

Red Sox trade away....Edgar Renteria. I wonder if he demanded a trade because he couldn't hack it in Boston.

You know what, scratch that from my list. The baseball off-season is hella excitin', at least to me. Of course, it means that I am obligated to answer long E-mails from this guy from my Jung class askin' me what I think about B.J. and A.J.

Here's my answer Eli, I like 'em. Strikeout pitchers throw hard. I have a renewed interest in the Jays, for the first time in like, ten years. Strike up the band! I'm climbin' on the wagon! Hey, it beats talkin' about the Leafs in May!

If you can't walk without a limp, I think that you should be allowed to lean on Michael Caine for support. Because he is kind of short, and it would make you incredibly seem incredibly debonair. What other medical devices can improve your game by flockin' to birds and chirpin' "'Ello luv!" and "Give us a kiss". Perhaps he should do some sort of work release program to make up for Austin Powers 3. That movie sucked ass. Mike Myers should stick to talkin' donkey movies from now on.

Item: I saw Mike Myers at a Chapters, (which is now a Winners aka T.J. Maxx Canada), a couple of years ago around this time. He had these schlumpy boots on, and, I noticed for the first time, a big mole on his face. Thus, the Fred Savage mole character seemed kind of mean-spirited. Was this his way of makin' fun of the people who make fun of him? I wonder.

Green Day's song "Jesus of Suburbia" manages to sound like "Summer of 69", "All the Young Dudes", "Ring of Fire", and "Basket Case", all at the same time, and the video rips off "1979", "that stupid Papa Roach song", and "any other slittin' your wrists video ever made". Nice cameo by the woman from "The Game", though. Perhaps it should have been called "Jesus of Ripoffia". I'm sorry.

Yakshemesh. I was excited to see Ali G on the last Curb, but he didn't really get a chance to do 'his thing'. Perhaps the Borat movie will finally come out, and Sacha can take his place along Fity as the new generation of leadin' men.

Well, that takes me write back to where I started. And yes, I'll get a job for Eye Magazine and launch my comedy career. Tomorrow. Or the next day.