Southern California Wildfire Provides Danger, Entertainment

Five-day blaze claims hundreds of acres worth of nation’s attention

San Diesel, CA – A raging wildfire, that began Sunday and has burned almost five-hundred thousand acres of Southern California, has become America’s number one source of entertainment this week, according to an independent survey conducted by The New York Post. Half a million people have been evacuated from their homes, the largest in the state’s history, but three times that amount have been glued to their televisions to watch the brightly flickering flames and spectacular plumes of smoke that have resulted from this natural disaster.

“We are worried, but not too worried,” said Robert C. Wright, president of television network NBC. “Ratings for this week’s episode of Heroes were good, but as the week continued our ratings slipped. Barely anyone watched last night’s episode of Phenomenon 101, a show which desperately needs the viewers. We’re counting on new episodes of 30 Rock and The Office to help us bounce back from this tragedy, which is affecting a lot more than our hillside properties.”

Images like this one have captivated the nation's attention over the last week

Other sources of entertainment are not faring as well against the ever-changing mosaic of fire. Major League Baseball reports that only twelve-thousand people outside of Boston watched game one of the World Series last night, five-thousand fewer than expected. Flagstaff, Arizona resident Gertrude Pickelsham said, “I switched back and forth between baseball and coverage of the fire, but by the fifth inning I just stuck with the news. [The Colorado Rockies] were getting shellacked! The citizens of San Diego have a better chance of surviving the weekend than the Rockies.”

Perhaps no Americans are as entranced by the wildfire than Californians themselves. “I watched it burn for about five hours yesterday from my patio while sipping iced tea,” confessed Mark Galebreadth of Orange County, “I completely forgot to call my mom and watch the new South Park.” However, as Mr. Galebreadth points out, "South Park will be re-run a bunch of times before next week; wildfires like this happen once, maybe twice a year.”

California firefighters and legislature hope to put an end to the blaze before this Saturday, when professional football games will air on national television. “This fire has caused almost a billion dollars in damages, a third of that from lost ad revenue,” said Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger at a hastily-convened press conference yesterday. “It is imperative that we contain this fire so that it doesn’t conflict with any more prime-time programming. If that means I have to enter the flames myself, burning away my synthetic skin and exposing my titanium robotic interior, then so be it.”

The Good, the Bad, and the Mediocre

Annoying sitcom neighbors

The Good:
Steven Q. Urkel from Family Matters



The guy that launched a thousand nerd stereotypes. He wasn’t even in the regular cast at first, but once he stepped over the threshold of the Winslow house, broke a Ming vase or something, and uttered, “Did I do that?” America was hooked. Honest to a fault, he embodied everything about the classic underdog: the social awkwardness, his wiry and slight frame, and wearing suspenders on pants that fit perfectly well already. Ever see those guys that wear suspenders and a belt? What the hell is up with that? Make up your mind, buddy. You have to take risks at some point in your life.
Jaleel White, who played Urkel on the series, must have no ego at all, because the producers put him in so many stupid situations and costumes. He didn’t just play the loveable, bumbling nerd, but also dressed up in petticoats and a Sunday dress to be his Southern cousin, Myrtle Urkel, his wayward “gangsta” cousin OGD (Original Gangsta Dawg), and he donned a suit and took off his glasses to become his genetically-altered self (later clone) Stephan Urqell. The latter character was supposed to be his “cool” persona, but it just made Jaleel White’s astigmatism even more evident. I hope he laughed all the way to the bank with those roles, because there’s no way he can ever be taken seriously as an actor again.

The Bad:
Harriet Brindle from Small Wonder



I understand that the sitcom neighbor is supposed to be annoying, but are we really supposed to want to cave his/her face in with a bat? Harriet Brindle (played by Emily Schulman) had no redeeming qualities to gain the audience’s sympathy. She was in love with Jamie Lawson, an equally repellant child that co-starred with the robot V.I.C.K.I. Harriet would section off her pigtails with yarn. She would climb through windows when locked out of the front door. And every word she uttered was like having a turkey thermometer jammed in your ear. Considering his two closest female peers were Harriet and an unfeeling robot that lived in his wardrobe, it’s safe to say that Jamie Lawson ended up being a homo.

The Mediocre:
Wilson from Home Improvement



The faceless and uni-named Wilson from Home Improvement was actually a good fit for the show, which itself was painfully mediocre. The shtick with Wilson was that lead character Tim Taylor would ask him for advice through their shared fence, and Wilson would impart sage wisdom, calling on a seemingly endless bank of philosophical and practical knowledge. And you never saw his face! Isn’t that hysterical? How can a guy with no face know so much about life? God, that’s hilarious! People who read too deeply into these kinds of things probably thought that Wilson represented an everyman; a person that could represent any one of us, and the feats we might accomplish if we applied ourselves and our minds to pursuing our dreams. More realistic people understood that, by not showing his face, they only had to pay the actor who played Wilson half-scale.
NOTE: While Wilson was not really an annoying neighbor, the sitcom itself is annoying, and all of the characters on it by extension.

Nostalgic Resources Dwindling at An Alarming Rate

1980's pop culture references almost totally depleted

Thewaywewere, USA -- A report released yesterday by a team of research scientists at Mayberry University revealed some surprising results: the good old days are getting closer and closer to the present with each generation. "There was a time that we could look fondly upon yesteryear as a simpler, more naive time," announced Dr. Franklin, who headed up this intense, three-year study, "but now, 'yesteryear' is a time of political corruption, rampant drug abuse, and social deviancy. And practically anyone can get a Monchichi from eBay or watch The Smurfs on YouTube."

The report, titled Conserving Our Nation's Nostalgia, details an alarming trend in reminiscence. Once a pastime relegated to the elderly and pompous members of society, now all age groups recall the recent past happily, even if they weren't alive during the period in question. Each decade is thoroughly mined for historical fact and popular references, and then it is packaged and sold to the masses in the form of compilation albums, retro clothing, and television programs featuring b-list celebrities. The study further reveals that, as a result of this efficient culture mining, our nostalgia reserves are rapidly shrinking, with the whole of the twentieth century up until 1989 completely exhausted. "At this rate," warns Dr. Franklin, "we'll be wistfully remembering 1994 release of the motion picture Dumb and Dumber by 2008."

"Conserving our nostalgia is key," continued Dr. Franklin, "if we want to escape from our dreary present. The past should not be handed down in serial television shows and lengthy books, but by slow-talking, doddering old people, to whom barely anyone pays attention." Dr. Franklin made some suggestions to members of the scientific community and the press, gathered in Ridgemont Auditorium at Mayberry University. "The first thing we need to do is stop the rampant digitizing of our new wave and glam rock recordings. They should be preserved in their original vinyl and cassette format, so they will be confounding to today's iPod generation. The next thing we need to do is take re-runs of Who's the Boss? off the air immediately."

Not everyone shares in Dr. Franklin's nostalgia doomsday predictions. "The report is pure histrionics," commented Professor Lasky, who attended the conference surrounding this report. "The way Dr. Franklin tells is, we will be down to Kerbangers and freeze-dried ice cream tomorrow. The fact is that there is still plenty for everyone to get nostalgic about, one just needs to look a little deeper at the instances that might not be as rosy-colored." Professor Lasky illustrated his contention by recalling Diana Ross' 1983 concert in Central Park, the 1986 World Exposition in Vancouver, and Phillip Morris buying Kraft Foods in 1988, all moments of the 1980's that have not been widely recalled. Professor Lasky admitted, however, that these instances were not as sexy as the time Donna Rice was photographed sitting on presidential candidate Gary Hart's lap aboard his yacht, The Monkey Business, in 1988.

Despite his detractors, Dr. Franklin says the situation is very dire. "There's hardly anything worth recalling from twenty years ago," he said in his closing statement, "and more and more young people are reflecting on moments so recently, their nostalgic potential is ruined before it had a chance. If we don't do something to preserve our nostalgia, then we will have no choice but to improve our present day, and frankly, I don't think the current pack of idiots that run the world are up to the task. Don't taze me, bro."

I think there's something you ought to know

Even though this is our first date, I believe we've made a real, lasting connection. It's like we've known each other for our entire lives. I don't want to rush headlong into anything, but as I gaze into your eyes, I imagine what it might be like to look at that face forever, as we face the future hand-in-hand and by each other's side. I feel like I could tell you anything, and that's why I think I should divulge a few things that weren't on my match.com profile. I want to be really honest and keep no secrets so this relationship gets off on the right foot.
For one thing, I'm not a real blond. I get my hair dyed every week so that the roots don't show. My real hair color is dark brown, and it's not actually this curly. I use a fair amount of product to give it some body. Another thing is that my eyes aren't actually green. They're also brown, a lighter brown than my hair but still fairly dark. I use contact lenses, and I have a pair that makes my eyes look more hazel, as well as a glow-in-the-dark pair I use for Halloween. I'm sorry to have misrepresented myself to you, but it's important to me that you know what you're getting before we take this relationship to the next step. And there's more, my darling. I hope you don't think any less of me.
My boobs aren't actually this big. Truth be told, I don't have any breasts, so to speak. I have a rare breathing condition that requires regular maintenance on my lungs, about two or three times a month. In order to facilitate this treatment, my lungs are actually situated outside of my body. They're covered by a thin layer of gauze, and for our date I used a lot of concealer and a ruffled blouse to make them look more breast-like. The bottom of my lungs are tucked into my skirt. See? I got this breathing condition when I was shot a dozen times carrying three kilos of cocaine in my uterus through the Florida Everglades. I was able to submerge in the swamp and hide from the authorities for days, but unfortunately the packages of cocaine burst inside me and I sustained permanent pelvic damage. As a result, I can't feel my reproductive organs at all. I have to wear a diaper because I never know when I am urinating. But that's not how I damaged my lungs. They were punctured by gunfire and then filled with swamp water, which festered inside of my body over the several days I hid from the law. My body went into toxic shock and my kidneys completely shut down. So six times a month I need to go to the hospital for a painful and lengthy dialysis. I don't have any health insurance, so I provide oral services to gentlemen at the bus station. I think you know what I mean by oral services. They like me because I can pull my dentures out and minimize their discomfort.
Oh, it feels so good to be completely honest! I just knew you would understand. But there is more to my story, my darling. I haven't always looked like the woman you see before you. No, I never was a man, but about ten years ago, I was a pygmy marmoset being used for experiments at a Swiss genetics laboratory. I'm not really sure what happened, precisely: there was some swine DNA, some bovine DNA, and some kind of top secret mutagen that was developed by scientists involved in chemical warfare. I don't remember the process, obviously, but that was as much as I could glean when I escaped from the laboratory and grabbed as many files as I could. That's when I learned that I could kill people with my mind, sometimes inadvertently. I've pretty much got it under control now, but for the first few months I accidentally murdered the cashier at the Burger King counter every time I went in to buy a Triple Whopper. And that's another admission: I need to eat flesh to survive. I can quell my cravings for a while by consuming large quantities of meat, but eventually I need to eat raw flesh and blood directly from a living being. It doesn't need to be human, darling! I'm not a vampire. However, I will need to bite into a stray cat or dog from time to time. I really hope this doesn't disappoint you.
I can see from your reaction that you are pretty surprised, and I don't blame you. But now that we've got all of that nasty business out of the way, we can begin our relationship on a foundation of truth and honesty. Being that I am such an unusual woman, I am pretty sure I'll abide by and accept any of your faults or nasty habits. Except for smoking. If I find out that you smoke cigarettes, I'm going to kill you with my mind.

Let's appreciate the works of Miller-Boyett

As appreciators of fine art, we like our eccentrics. We enjoy the unrestrained antics of creative minds, whose output makes our dull lives worth living. We suffer the egotistical demands and strange attitudes in the hope that, ultimately, it will result in a work which will change the way we see the world. Far too often, however, we ignore the persons behind the scenes: the accountants, the lawyers, the paper-pushers that allow artists to live their unfettered lifestyles. Without them, we wouldn't have the great works that constitute our cultural relevance. I would like to take a moment to appreciate one of these minds behind the mind: the television production company known as Miller-Boyett.

They originally began in 1969 as Miller-Milkis Productions, and set about producing a few forgettable made-for-TV movies. This duo hit paydirt in 1974 when they produced a sitcom for ABC named Happy Days. Banking off the nostalgia generated by the successful film American Graffiti, Thomas Miller and Edward Milkis may have realized, at that moment, that the secret to making long-lasting, lucrative television shows is to make them as bland an inoffensive as possible. Pull the audience's heartstrings and have a good laugh track. Robert Boyett was brought to the team, and together the trio developed more hits, like Laverne & Shirley in 1976 and Mork and Mindy in 1978.

I'm not sure what caused Edward Milkis to leave the team, so I'll just make something up: late in 1979, the young upstart Boyett--a full nine years younger than Milkis--had an idea. A lascivious, dirty, nasty idea. On a dry-erase board in his garage, he began calculating the most diabolically clever television program in history: one part The Odd Couple, two parts Texaco Star Theater (starring the cross-dresser Milton Berle), and a dash of Rhoda to make it contemporary. What he came up with was the plot for the criminally underrated sitcom Bosom Buddies, starring the comic duo of Tom Hanks and Peter Scolari. Milkis was furious; he didn't take a load of shrapnel in his ass in Korea so two fancy boys could parade around on television in women's clothing. Tom Miller, however, only being two years older than Boyett, loved the idea. Miller and Boyett parted ways with Ed Milkis in 1980, and never looked back.

Together, Miller-Boyett created mediocre hit after mediocre hit, each time ripping off elements of other successful television programs. There was Perfect Strangers, a kind of Odd Couple with more sex appeal. There was Full House, an unholy mix of My Three Sons, The Brady Bunch, and My Two Dads. There was Valerie, which began as a vehicle for television actor Valerie Harper. Then she got uppity and was replaced by Sandy Duncan. The show was re-titled The Hogan Family, and ratings soared even higher.

Miller-Boyett were true geniuses of the prime-time sitcom, and the crown jewel of their achievements is none other than Family Matters, a show which relied on practically every sitcom device ever invented. There was the henpecked, fat father; the grating but even-keeled wife; the nosy grandmother; the annoying next-door neighbor. There was even a single mother in the form of Rachel, the wife's sister, who struggled between raising a boy on her own, and wanting to go on dates with as many men as possible (but NOT get laid--never that). As this show gained popularity, the dynamic team of Miller-Boyett showed their production prowess by never being afraid to can actors, even those central to the theme of the show. What began as the touching story of family life in suburban Chicago morphed into the ridiculously unbelievable antics of Steven Q. Urkel, a character who, during the life of the show, was made to impersonate Bruce Lee no fewer than three times. Miller-Boyett, we salute thee.