A Winter Couch Potato Speaks Out
When it comes to the TV, my motto is
usually, “Turn it off.” I love those little bumper stickers, which
appear in a colorful sea of other bumper stickers, posted to the back
end of some frustrated modern-day hippie’s sloppy jalopy like a
personal philosophic bulletin board, proclaiming, “Kill your
television.” My father sometimes calls the TV “the old boob tube,”
and I do believe that endless hours of TV significantly increase your
boob status. (“Boob” here meaning a jelly-like mind, not the rack on
your chest. Sorry, lipstick lesbians and fellow drag queens.)
Still, during the cold winter months,
when my seasonal affective disorder is at its highest, and my spirits
and energy level are at their lowest, I often find myself parked on the
couch in front of the television, feeling like a frustrated automobile
buried in 20+ inches of cold white powder.
Occasionally, a friend calls with a
cheery psychological snow shovel to dig me out of my doldrums, but more
often than not, I ignore the ringing of the phone, caught up in the
addictive wonders of the dusty television screen. After the
record-setting snowfalls of this winter and the workless snow days,
I’ve considered applying to TV Guide for a critic’s position.
I’ve become particularly enamored of
The Game Show Network, and if my remote control had a speed dial
feature, it would be right at the top of the list. Which cable TV genius
came up with the grand idea of rotating classic episodes of The Match
Game, Press Your Luck, The $100,000 Pyramid, The Newlywed Game, Love
Connection, The Family Feud, and Card Sharks? I’m not sure, but I, for
one, would like to shake their hand. I only wish that the shows featured
more openly gay contestants. Picture this priceless scenario. Bob
Eubanks greets Michael and Angel, who “had their commitment ceremony
in Hawaii three months ago,” and learns about their two prized toy
poodles, Joan and Bette. “Angel, what’s the most outrageous place
Michael ever wanted to make whoopee?” Bob queries. “In a sling,
Bob,” Angel sheepishly retorts. “I hope your mother’s not
watching,” Bob chortles.
Imagine The Family Feud with a gay
family. “Let’s get ready for the Feud,” Richard Dawson’s tanned,
leathery face exclaims. “On this side, we have the Drag Queen
family.” “That’s ‘female impersonator,’ Richard,” declares
Ivanna Dick, the head of the family. “And now let’s meet your
challengers. Oh, they look like they’re ready for action. Let’s say
hello to the Biker Dykes!” Five leather-clad womyn with mullets give
high-fives, spit, and grab their crotches.
Even the questions would be culturally
appropriate. “We surveyed one hundred LGBT persons, and found out
their answers to the following question. The top five answers are on the
board. Now, get ready to slap those buzzers. I’m going to read the
question.”
“How many inches can a stiletto heel
have and still be considered a sensible shoe?”
My TV-watching eyes also have developed
an affinity for any show featuring a judge as its main character. All
but Judge Judy, that is. There’s a frustrated closet lesbian if ever I
saw one. Rosie or Ellen, will you PLEASE have your people contact her
people? My favorite idea for next season’s top-rated reality show?
Judge Judy and Dr. Laura stranded on a remote island with nothing but
leather corsets, patchouli, clogs, and trail mix. They’d make
passionate, crazy love in the last episode, or die fighting the urge.
And it’s high time we see a gay couple on Divorce Court. “Let me get
this right,” that sassy little black lady judge would say. “Scott,
you’re accusing Tommy of adding Nair to your Bed Head pomade, and
Tommy, you’re accusing Scott of shaving the heads of your ebay Barbie
collection, and renaming them Annie Lennox, Sinead O’Connor, and Susan
Powter?”
Lifetime is another one I’d like to add
to my remote control speed dial. The marketing agents only have it half
right. If they had any real advertising savvy, the slogan would read,
“Lifetime…television for women and gay men.” Not long ago, the
popular cable network, which shows The Golden Girls four times per day,
briefly removed the classic 80s show from their daily line-up. Letters,
phone calls, and e-mails poured in from around the nation, and Dorothy,
Rose, Blanche, and Sophia were quickly put back on the air. A recent
press release on liftimetv.com confirmed my suspicions. The vast
majority of those calls, letters, and e-mails originated from San
Francisco, New York City, Provincetown, and one very determined caller
from Wilmington, Delaware who repeatedly threatened the safety of the
free world if The Golden Girls was not returned to the air immediately.
I wonder who that nut was?
Finally, there’s nothing I like better
on a long, cold sleepless night than a trip to TV Land. When my SAD
insomnia kicks in, I like to click my footy-pajama heels together and be
whisked away to Green Acres, Mayberry, or the Ricardos’ apartment, to
a time when life was simpler and easier, if much less rainbow-friendly.
Who needs Queer as Folk or Will and Grace, with shows like Father Knows
Best for the leather folk and Leave It to Beaver for the ladies? I love
Lucy, too, and I really believe that had the show been set in 2003
instead of in the era of Hoover and McCarthy, we would have seen a much
different show. Once Ricky and Lucy and Fred and Ethel moved to the
country, they would have had the genteel Bob and James as next-door
neighbors, instead of those duds the Ramseys, and the famous foursome
would have invested in a gay disco instead of chicken houses. Maybe they
even would have gotten into swinging.
When it comes to TV, I’m not a total
entertainment whore. I love the Discovery Channel, Animal Planet, the
Food Network, TLC, and Unsolved Mysteries, in addition to Comedy Central
and the Cartoon Network. The History Channel also rates high on my
Nielsen box, and I’m very upset that I have a drag show booked for
this Sunday, when I could be witnessing the construction of the Great
Pyramid through the eyes of a single Egyptian worker. But that’s what
VCRs are for, to catch all that great television time you’re missing
while you’re doing silly things like working, exercising, and
dating.
Eric
lives in Wilmington, Delaware. If you have any idea how to work the
recording feature on an Orion EnergyStar VCR, please e-mail him at e.a.morrison@verizon.net,
preferably before this Sunday.
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