More Confessions From A TV Junkie.
By Tom Danehy
IT'S ONLY January 28, and already I'm getting around to
making my resolutions for the year. I guess last year's promise
to not be such a procrastinator really paid off.
This year, one of my biggies will be to cut back on the amount
of television I watch. I watch a lot. In fact, I consider people
who don't watch any to be creepy, quasi-intellectuals who don't
allow razors and/or deodorant onto their armpits.
Still, I realize there is such a thing as too much TV, so I'm
cutting back. I knew I had reached a point of turmoil when the
thought involuntarily creeped into my head that two VCRs in the
house just aren't enough.
Starting now, I'm cutting back to seven...no, 10 hours of prime-time
viewing per week. You might think that's a lot, but when you stop
and consider, there are three hours of prime time Monday through
Saturday and a whopping four hours on Sunday. That's like, what,
22 hours per week? Then there are all those networks. We're talking
a hundred-and-something prime-time shows to sift through.
We'll start with Sunday, since my friend Skippy, who recently
became a Jehovah's Bystander or Seventh-Day Witness or something,
tells me that Sunday is the first day of the week.
First, there's the old stalwart, 60 Minutes (CBS, 6 p.m.).
I don't care how many Dateline or 20/20 clones there
are, the original is still the best. Last week's segment about
a black man who was exiled from America for the past 40 years
because his Georgia draft board refused to address him as "Mr."
was a classic.
Besides, I figure if I start off the TV week with 60 Minutes,
I'm in a state of good TV grace.
Then comes The X-Files (Fox, 8 p.m.). We all know where
this is going. In a year or two or three, it will culminate in
a three- or four-part cataclysmic showdown between our heroes
and the evil aliens. We'll find out that Henry Hyde and the other
House managers were in on the conspiracy and that Monica Lewinsky
is a chupacabra.
No really, we'll wait for the big showdown, and then get treated
to some big surprise, like maybe Scully is Mulder's sister,
which will send an involuntary shudder through all you people
who've been waiting for the big sex scene. Or, better yet, maybe
we'll find out that Mulder is really an alien himself, planted
to see if anyone could uncover the mystery.
(I have to be careful here. This Internet thing is so big, I
just know that some nerd-boy in Indiana is doing a search and
just posted my theories on his Conspiracy Web Page.)
Finally, I end Sundays with The Practice, probably the
best drama on TV. I love this show, especially the big-ass Eugene
character, who is intellectually gifted, yet not averse to throwing
his considerable bulk around to make a point through intimidation.
Dang, that's three hours already. I have to be careful here.
Fortunately, the only thing I watch on Monday is Everybody
Loves Raymond (CBS, 8 p.m.). It's not great, but it's very
good. My daughter is actually afraid of the guy who plays Raymond's
brother, Robert. The guy sounds like he's the love-child of Barry
White and whoever did the vocal effects for the possessed Linda
Blair character in The Exorcist.
Tuesday is big. Start with Buffy, The Vampire Slayer
(WB by way of WGN-Chicago, 6 p.m., or on the all-new local WB
affiliate Channel 58 at 7 p.m. ). This show is hip, it's funny,
it's smart, and it's often very scary. It's so well-written it
makes your teeth hurt. Just make sure you don't stick around for
Felicity afterwards.
Then comes 3rd Rock From The Sun (NBC, 7 p.m.--this week,
anyway). NBC has all but killed this series by bouncing it around
from one time slot to another. But it is still raucously funny,
and John Lithgow deserves every award and nomination he gets.
A couple weeks back, The Big Giant Head caused Dick and Sally
to switch bodies and the physical comedy was spectacular. (And
I just realized that I wrote a sentence including the phrase "Big
Giant Head.")
Just Shoot Me (NBC, 8 p.m.) is probably the best comedy
on TV, although George Segal's character could be scaled back
a bit. Wendie Malick's burnt-out, razor-thin, ex-model Nina is
one of the great TV characters of all time.
Finally, there's NYPD Blue, which went through (for me)
an overly schmaltzy three-part death scene for Bobby Simone, but
has bounced back greatly with the addition of Rick Schroeder.
Everyone doubted that move, but boy, is he good.
On Wednesday we have The Drew Carey Show (ABC,
8 p.m.). It's getting rather weird these days with the Shirley
Jones love story, but it's always very funny. His oddball collection
of friends and enemies are among the best ever on TV.
Then comes Law & Order, an absolute television phenomenon
which keeps shedding pivotal characters every year, all the while
getting better and better. They use the Elmore Leonard technique
of cutting out all the non-essential elements, and then manage
to cram in more content and plot twists than most two-hour Columbo
episodes used to have. Great show.
Thursday it's Friends and Frasier (NBC,
7 p.m. and 8 p.m., respectively). The former is getting better
with age, while the latter has deservedly won the past five Best
Comedy Emmys. Oh sure, there are those who wail that it's no Seinfeld,
but then, what is? Even Seinfeld wasn't Seinfeld
that last season.
I also watch E.R., but not with the enthusiasm I once
did.
Fridays are high-school football and basketball nights,
so I only have to tape Homicide: Life On The Streets. Gritty,
annoying, but always interesting.
I don't watch anything on Saturday. It all sucks.
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