Feels like Sunday
Well, it's my customary lazy, glazed over decompression day after a brutal work rotation. There's nothing I have to do today and I intend to do exactly that -- nothing. I didn't make it the coma guy show so now I'll never know if Armaggedon happened. I didn't get far into the Emmys either before I passed out for ten glorius hours.
Is it me or do the Emmys stink now? Something about seeing Barry Manilow serenading Dick Clark turned my stomach. Don't get me wrong, I used to like Dick Clark but he still looks so much the same that it's become ghoulish. I mean, does the guy have a portrait in his attic or what? (gratituious Dorian Gray reference - I love working that in) And whoever dressed Candance Bergen deserves to be dragged off and shot. She looked like one of those covers old ladies crochet to cover up the spare toilet paper rolls.
I managed to get through the tribute to Aaron Spelling before I lost consciousness. That was actually pretty good. I was surprised to see how many of his shows I watched regularly. He lost me around the time he started doing the Beverly Hills brats shows but I loved the orginal Charlie's Angels. Adored the Love Boat. Fantasy Island? I loved me some Ricardo Montablan. I even got hooked on Dynasty.
He was truly the king of escapist entertainment. We could use more programming that leaves you feeling that good at the end of the shows. What do we get now? Reality TV. Yuck. How depressing is that? No wonder everybody is on Prozac these days.