“The Golden Girls”: I catch nearly four episodes a day of this seminal eighties sitcom. It’s amazing how raunchy the jokes are sometimes. It’s like “The Young Ones,” sans explosions and plus Geritol. Ny friend John made a good point the other day—you can never tell if the guys who show up to the Golden Girls’ house for dates are supposed to be hot or not. There’s always this weird pause and then Blanche or Rose will freak out one way or the other. I saw the final episode today, the one where Dorothy marries Leslie Nielsen. Kind of sad. Later I caught the one with Paul Dooley and Rita Moreno as the neighbors, the one that was supposed to be spun off into “Empty Nest.” I think they made the right decision trading those two dullards in for Richard Mulligan and his Get Fresh Crew (Kristy McNichol and Dinah Manoff). I really didn’t find myself giving a shit about this younger, less flustered couple living next door to the Goldens.
“The Wonder Years”: Less painful than I remember. Fred Savage’s accent, that is. It’s a little strange to watch “The Wonder Years” these days. Sometimes you forget it was actually made in the 1980s. Then Donkeylips shows up and you’re like, “Oh, snap!” I still get a few yuks out of Paul everytime I catch this one. Actually, I concocted a fictional Paul-centric episode in my sleep this afternoon. I dozed off watching VH-1 right as “Scott Baio is 45 & Single” came on and I dreamt Paul and Winnie Cooper hooked up. The entire episode was told from Paul’s point of view, and the voice narration was provided by…Scott Baio.
“Scott Baio is 45 & Single”: Except he’s not, actually. Single, that is. The whole premise of this show is the man once known as Chachi is dating some girl he wants to marry but is worried he’s gonna screw it up. So he hires a life coach who makes him do all kinds of wacky things, like…talk to his ex-girlfriends. Not exactly “The Amazing Race: Krakatoa,” but Baio’s sleazy charm keeps me tuning in. How can you deny a man who tries to make amends with a bucket of KFC? Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ.
“The Two Coreys”: This show is more scripted than the Kennedy assassination, but who cares? It’s Feldman and Haim. They might as well change their names to peanut butter and jelly, because that’s how awesome they are together. So much unintentional humor in this one. Feldman’s house is littered with strange relics from the height of his fame (Lost Boys fan art, teenybopper magazine covers blown up to ridiculous sizes). Haim is always rockin’ the 1998 Backstreet gangsta look. At times, it’s difficult to tell who’s got the better grasp on reality. In the middle of it all is Feldman’s poor wife, Suzie. Girl looks like she wants to kill Haim every second of the day. If that Corey is mysteriously absent from the next License to Drive reunion, we’ll have our first suspect.
“John From Cincinnati”: HBO’s surf noir series, recently axed after just one season. Not surprised. Weak writing and lousy acting (Rebecca De Mornay, I’m looking at you) really bogged this one down. Snippets were interesting, but overall it was too grating and confusing to be truly enjoyable. I think they set too much up, expecting to have a few seasons to sort it all out. Sorry, Yosts. You’ll never truly know if John was an alien/God/the Devil/an angel/a ghost.
“The Bronx is Burning”: John Turturro’s performance as Billy Martin on this ESPN miniseries has been amazing. You can’t even tell it’s him at first. I’m not sure how I feel about the cutting between vintage game footage and newly filmed stuff, but generally speaking “Bronx” has been a tight, gripping trip through the 1977 pennant race. Oh, and there’s an OBSCENE amount of Ramones songs in it. It’s like disco never existed. Johnny Ramone’s will must have stated all future New York Yankees dramatizations must feature at least five different Ramones songs per hour. Up yours, Gloria Gaynor.