SO WHAT'S GOOD ON TV?

Let's face it, the television landscape of today is a fricking wasteland that's about six reality shows away from being declared legally retarded. With the pickings so slim out there, one thing I'm always trying to do is to influence my entourage, or "peers" as they like to think of themselves (yeah, right) into checking out the few fine scripted programs that I currently enjoy. Because that's how it should work, that's what a friendship should be, an exchange of ideas. I should be able to tell them what I like to watch, they should give my recommendations a look-see so we can discuss and debate the shows in an open and spirited forum. And then when they try to tell me what they like, I pretend that my phone is vibrating and I leave the room to take the "call".

Alas, it's not happening the way God intended. I tell my crew what I'm watching and they blatantly defy my wishes by totally ignoring me and tuning into The Real Matchmaking Housewives of the Jersey Shore Season 8: Escape to Big Brother's Whore Island, or whatever brain rot they're into. As if me and my opinions don't matter or exist at all. My entourage sucks.

So in the interest of public service, I'll tell you, my legions… okay… my several loyal readers what I'm liking on the telly and then hopefully, if you're not already digging what I'm digging then maybe you'll give one or two of them a try and then I will have enriched your lives. Then maybe we can hang out and talk about it. Seriously, I need new friends.

The Walking Dead on AMC:

Probably the best thing on the air right now. Zombies, That's pretty much all I should have to say to get you tuning in if you aren't already.

American Horror Story on FX:

A haunted house tale with murderous spirits, demon infants, Jessica Lange acting bat-shit crazy and a chick banging a rubber-clad ghost. That's right, I said a woman banged a fetish phantom. There's your Emmy consideration right there.

Prime Suspect on NBC:

Based on the U.K. series of the same name, this version features Maria Bello as a ballsy homicide detective running with the boys in NYC. Not quite as good as the original version in my opinion, but that version starred Helen Mirren and I may be a bit biased here because Maria Bello is no Helen Mirren. But then again, who is? 66 years old and she's still looking like… BA-DAMN!

Fringe on FOX:

Must admit that I stopped watching this one at the beginning of this season so I really have no idea what the hell is going on with it. But I used to think it was pretty cool before I got bored with it, so you might get a kick out of it. Go ahead, I'm done with it, you can have it now.

Mad Men on AMC, Justified on FX and Warehouse 13 on SyFy are all on hiatuses. (Is that how you pluralize hiatus? Doesn't sound quite right. Whatever.) They're between seasons right now, so really no need to worry about them at this time. When they return though, give 'em a peep.

Boardwalk Empire, Game of Thrones and True Blood are all on HBO. Never seen any of them because I'm a too cheap to pay for premium channels. I only included them here to round out the list and give me ten television shows since these things generally work best when there's nice even numbers involved. Otherwise this would be a Top 7 list and no one wants that… just odd and sad. But I've heard good things about all of them so to be fair and not simply use HBO programming as seat filler, I'll be sure to check them out as soon as the collected editions are available. And by available I mean fall off a truck and into my Blu-Ray player… that just happened to fall off a truck the week before.

Only other thing worth mentioning, a bonus if you will, isn't on TV at all. It's a short run Internet series that I found amusing called Husbands. You can find it at Husbandstheseries.com. Fun little eleven episode romp, each ep only clocking in at an average length of three minutes, (perfect for even the shortest attention span) about a couple of gay celebrities who find themselves married to one another after a drunken weekend in Vegas and have to… you know what, I don't want to spoil it for you. And never mind how or why I got into it in the first place! How about you just open your mind, check it out and keep your accusations to yourself, all right? Don't judge me!

See, now you went and made me use my angry voice.

Well that's pretty much the list, folks. Anything that I left off probably ain't worth your time because it ain't on my radar. However, there might be one or two worthwhile shows that I've missed here. I've been wrong before… once, back in '98. Several people were lost forever as a result. But I've forgiven myself even if the victim's families can't… or won't. Anyway, got a show that you think I should be watching? Something you think I might be interested in? Then holler back, speak up, let me know and I'll… whoa, wait a sec, my phone's vibrating. Excuse me, gotta take this. In the meantime… look, there's Helen Mirren!

YOU DOWN WITH N.E.P.? YEAH YOU KNOW ME!

Okay, I know, Naughty By Nature is sooooo twenty years ago and the whole O.P.P. thing is long past played out. But I'm talking about the New England Patriots here, (Get it? N.E.P.… see what I did up there?) so it's okay because…THE NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS RULE! Sure that's been mentioned here several times before, don't think there's any need to re-hash that fact. (Kinda did anyway. Oops.) But while I might think that they're currently the best team in the NFL, there are those among you (and you know who you are) who doubt the utter awesomeness of the NEP. And that's fine, that's what America's all about, the freedom to choose poorly and to be wrong. Difficult though it may be for me to fathom, there are people out there making their way in this world under the impression that whatever team they pledge allegiance to is actually better than the boys in red, white and blue. (Pffffft, I know, right!) Even harder to believe is that there are actually people in this world who don't care about football at all. But I don't want to… I can't even talk about those poor lost souls. Just upsets me too much.

Turns out that my friend Jenette happens to be such a person, a Patriots doubter that is, not one of those Godless non-football types. Yet even with that glaring fault working against her, she's still one of my best buds. She would insist I refer to her as my BFF, but since I'm a damn grown man and not a high school girl circa 2006, I'm not gonna do that. And yeah, my best friend's a woman, you got a problem with that?

Wait… where was I before I went and got all defensive? Oh yeah anyway, plagued by issues that must stem from her childhood and clearly affect her judgment, seems Jenette was actually crazy enough in the belief that her team, the Dallas Cowboys (snicker) could best my Pats, that she had the audacity, the temerity, the chutzpah, the very balls to place a wager on the outcome of the game that the two teams played just this past Sunday.

Now any of you who were lucky enough to have seen the game know how that turned out, so I won't bother with a recap of how TFB (that's Tom F##king Brady to the uneducated) led the offense of the NEP down the field with under two minutes left in regulation. Won't go into detail about how with twenty-two seconds left he delivered a touchdown strike so perfect and glorious that it would make one believe in miracles if it weren't for the fact that he does it so often that it ceases to be miraculous and almost becomes mundane. (Even still, I'm actually tearing up a little just thinking about it.) And while simultaneously securing the win and driving a dagger deep into the heart of Texas, TFB also earned me a plate of pancakes.

"Wait… what the… pancakes, Ron?"

Yes, the bet was for pancakes. What, I'm going to risk real money on a football game with a double-dip recession hanging over our heads like a smog bank over Los Angeles? Hell no! Homemade pancakes with a side order of humiliation, that's what was at stake, riding on TFB's shoulders. Not only is Jenette obligated to make me a stack from scratch, not only will she have to wear some form of Patriots gear while she does so, but it will be filmed Food Network style and uploaded here for my first attempt at a video post. So be sure to check back soon and share in the spectacle. You can't share the pancakes though, those are gonna be all mine. As will the subsequent gastric distress that will most likely result from eating them. Jenette's not so good with a stove. WTF was I thinking?

ENOUGH ALREADY!

Another batch of random thoughts this go round, don't have the attention span to stay on one subject too long today. But there is a theme, this time we're talking — or at least I'm talking — about stuff that just needs to go away. Trends that I feel have hung around a little too long and need to be taken out behind the barn and put down like Old Yeller. And no, I've never actually seen the movie, but I've heard things and it sounds like a feel-good comedy the whole family could enjoy. Spoiler Alert: Old Yeller was dead the whole time.

Gonna start off with a subject very near and dear to my heart. (And yes, contrary to what the Old Yeller comment might have led you to think, I do have a heart.) College football, or more to the point, college football uniforms. Used to be a time long ago (like five years) when two uniforms was all a team needed. You had one for home games and one for away, that was it. As long as the school's colors were represented correctly, you didn't worry about much else and an occasional stripe here and there was considered pushing it into girly-man territory. Now thanks to companies like Nike and Under Armour, schools have to carry fashion consultants and wardrobe crews to dress the players for the games. All the outrageous colors and patterns running around the gridiron these days, it's enough to make dearly departed coaching greats like Bear Bryant, Woody Hayes and Bo Schembechler rise out of their graves and… Well, would it really matter what happened next? I mean, zombie football coaches, isn't that concept awesomely frightening enough?

Knocked-up celebs stripping down to show their baby bumps on the cover of a magazine. When A-lister Demi Moore did it first on the cover of Vanity Fair in back 1991 it was shocking, scandalous, pushed the envelope, broke the boundaries and all that stuff. Since then stars like Cindy Crawford, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera have diluted the phenomenon to the point where twenty years later, C-lister Nia Long doing it on the cover of Ebony, not so much any of that other stuff anymore. Time to put the mommas-to-be back in their stretchy pants and put this trend to bed because I am not prepared to stroll down the supermarket magazine aisle and catch a glimpse of Snooki's swollen baby flume on a future cover of Rolling Stone. You know that shit's possible!

Sliders. I'm probably in the minority on this one, but tiny hamburgers are just stupid, unless they're being passed around at a cocktail party or eaten by toddlers… or midgets. (Had to be said because you know you were thinking it.) Except tiny humans aren't the ones consuming the things. They're being ordered three, four, even six at a time by full grown adults because apparently, actual burgers are too much trouble, what with the using two hands and the heavy lifting involved in getting it up past the chin. Whew, that's like work or something.

And can we please, as a society, for the love of God stop using the phrase "That's what SHE said"? It's had its day. Now that day is done. Let it die with dignity. Or at least, what little dignity it had to begin with.

This last bit's not actually a gripe, just that this photo I saw of married Crocodile Dundee stars Paul Hogan and Linda Kozlowski at home in Australia made me sit up and say… DAMN! I know that time is only kind to a rare few of us, but it appears to be really hard down under.

"That's what SHE said!"

Sorry, couldn't help myself. Last time, I swear.

IN FOURTEEN HUNDRED NINETY-TWO…

…Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Then… something something something… the Nina, the Pinta and the Pacific Princess, yadda yadda yadda… long story short, he "discovered" America.

So I'm like a day late with this one, (more like two really) but it's cool since I'm not actually here to talk about Christopher Columbus. Although, I would recommend you look up some of the real text on that guy's history and not rely on the sanitized stuff you learned in second grade. The straight poop on his trips across the briny deep involved looting gold and taking slaves from the West Indies among other atrocities. So, you know… hooray for him, he gets a semi-holiday!

But Columbus Day got me thinking about the Indians… yes, I know that Native Americans is the politically correct way of referring to them, but that's like eight extra letters to type, plus a space and I'm real tired so screw it. I got to thinking about the Indians and how things were cool with them and all back in the day, before Columbus just dropped by and killed the party like Andy Dick showing up at… anywhere. Granted, he didn't do all the damage by himself, (Columbus, not Andy Dick) others (white people) came after him and did more than a fair amount of bending the Indians over the proverbial hood. And it's still up in the air as to whether the dude was even in fact the first outlander to put boots on the ground or not. But he's the one with the parades and the sales events in his honor so for all intents and purposes Columbus broke the seal on the New World. He thought he was in Asia the whole time but that's beside the point, said I'm not here to talk about him, didn't I? (So why do you keep bringing him up, Ron?) Good call, moving on.

So with their sacred lands no longer all that sacred, things started to go all shit soup for the Indians. At least, that's what my research shows. My research text mainly consisting of Wikipedia and that SCALPED comic book series I mentioned here a few days ago. (Seriously, it's a good read. You should go pick it up. Collected editions available at a comic book shop or book store near you.) Anyway, now here we are thousands of years later (although my figures might be off, I don't do math) and times are still so bad for the Indians that this type of thing is still acceptable.

And yes, there are lots of teams out there, both at the professional and collegiate levels that use Indians as mascots, but to me, the Redskins have always been the worst offenders because that's just an outright racial slur. I'm not going to throw out examples, but you know that crap wouldn't fly with any other group of people. Even though 'Skins ownership has always stuck to the story that the name signifies the respect they have for the Native American people and their rich history and traditions. Well wouldn't you know it, those crazy Indians and their damned pride, they're still taking it as an insult, go figure. But I have a solution, (come on, you knew that I would) an alternative that speaks to another proud and rich American heritage while requiring very little in the way of rebranding. And so, inspired by Jimmy, my good-old boy co-worker, (and a die-hard 'Skins fan, BTW) who just last week, during a discussion on this very topic hit me with such pearls of wisdom as: "Maybe those people should learn to just shut the F##k up and enjoy the game." I give you…

Why hasn't anyone thought of this before? Or have they? Have I just not been paying attention? It happens sometimes, I get easily distracted from one minute to the…

ALL ABOUT ME!

Strangers often stop me and ask: "Excuse me, do you work here?" It never bothers me or anything, guess I just have kind of a Home Depot/CVS/Wal-Mart employee type of vibe about me. Or it could have something to do with the fact that I like to wear brightly colored vests accessorized with name tags when I go shopping. I wouldn't know, I'm not an expert in human behavior.

But aside from being pestered by old chicks about where they can find cat food, (aisle 8 BTW) there's another question I get asked a lot. (And by "a lot" I mean once last week.) And that question is: "Why don't you ever say anything about yourself on your blog?" Now what 'Little Miss Busybody Who Needs To Shut The Hell Up And Mind Her Own Damn Business' was trying to say was that even though this endeavor you see before you is but two weeks old, it has thus far been devoted to nothing but pop culture and sports. Seems that 'Little Miss Busybo…' you know what, let's just call her Steve. Seems that that know-it-all bitch Steve thinks that I should put a little bit more of myself into this thing. So you know what, Steve? Fine, you want me to get personal with the folks? Here goes.

So I walk out of the house this morning on my way to my dentist appointment and I see my neighbor's cat asleep on the hood of my car. So I gently walk over and I'm like "Mittens, hey Mittens, come on girl, you gotta wake up and…" OH MY GOD I CAN'T DO THIS TO YOU GUYS! Seriously, if I'd typed one more sentence of that I think I would have walked away and never come back.

Look, when something blog-worthy actually happens in my life, I'll gladly share and you guys will be more than welcome to read about it here. But until then, my opinions on pop culture, sports and geek shit are what we've got, gonna be our bread and butter and Steve can just go suck it. Although, I could tell you about the time my friends and I set out on a trek to see a dead body down by the railroad tracks. No, wait… that was from the film Stand By Me, more pop culture. Yeah, then I got nothing.

Before I go, by way of apology for the banality I briefly subjected you to, I'll leave you with a little TFB. Why? Guess I'm just in a giving mood.

Random Junk

Just a couple of quick hits for you this time around. Random thoughts on stuff I've been too busy to comment or expand upon in the last few days. Well I have other things going on you know, porn doesn't just search for itself! (But wouldn't it be awesome if it could?)

We lost Apple founder Steve Jobs this week. Really nothing else I can say about this that hasn't already been said by the millions of people whose lives and careers were made better by his genius. You'll be missed, dude.

Amanda Knox is back home after her four year ordeal in an Italian prison. That's a good thing. But just so it's not a total loss to the Italian penal system, let's send them Casey Anthony to take her place. It's nice to dream.


First casualty of the fall TV season is NBC's The Playboy Club. No surprise there, it sucked bunny ass. So to the eighteen people who actually tuned in to watch Eddie Cibrian do his impression of Don Draper, sorry. Jon Hamm's still the man and you'll just have to await his 2012 return like the rest of us.

Speaking of Mad Men, one of the best comic books on the market right now
(IMHO) is Scalped by DC/Vertigo Comics. Did I lose you there? Mad Men is produced by AMC, which also produces The Walking Dead, which is based on a comic book, so there's your bloody segue. Now try to keep up. Anyway, written by Jason Aaron, Scalped tells the story of a casino owning tribe of Native Americans in South Dakota and it would make a terrific television series. There have been talks, so I'm hoping that will happen soon. It'd be a lot like The Sopranos…except in South Dakota instead of New Jersey. Not really sure where the difference in that lies.

And lastly, the New England Patriots f##king rule! That's not really new news, just a statement of fact I felt like making.

We'll talk again soon. Well not actually talk, more like I'll type and you'll read. That's pretty much the nature of the relationship here. Know your role dammit.

And Now A Few Words About…

Professional curmudgeon Andy Rooney resigned from 60 Minutes this week, his final broadcast was this past Sunday, leaving behind the desk he's occupied for over 30 years. That's a milestone, over three decades sitting there, pounding out opinions and crazy-talk, then spilling it all on a public forum. In many ways Mr. Rooney was like the world's first blogger. Except, he was well-respected… and well-paid.

Truth be told, I wasn't a fan of the man, nothing against him personally, just that I never caught any of his segments because I never caught an episode of 60 Minutes… ever. In fact, I find that I'm always a little surprised to hear that it's even still on the air. This shocking revelation occurs almost every Sunday during football season, as the late game on CBS runs into 7:00 and the commentators always tell us to stay tuned for 60 Minutes in its entirety following the game. Yeah, sure thing, Chief. I was thinking of heading over to ESPN for highlights of all the games of the day before clicking on over to NBC for yet even more football with the Sunday night game. But that stuff you just said about 60 Minutes sounded a whole lot better so I'll just stick around and watch Ed Bradley's interview with Boris Yeltsin.

What's that? Ed Bradley's dead? Yeltsin too? How long ago? Probably would have known that if I'd watched the show once in a while. DAMN YOU FOOTBALL! CURSE YOU FOR MY IGNORANCE, DEMON GAME!

Still, and more importantly, back on topic, I'll miss actively avoiding Andy Rooney and his aggressive eyebrows. (Seriously, go back up and take a look at that pair of lint traps he's got going on.) But life goes on and it seems to me that without Andy… there's a job opening over at 60 Minutes. Wonder if they've posted up on Monster yet?

MEA CULPA

I've learned a valuable lesson in the last couple days my friends, and that lesson is: restraint. Thursday morning when I came before you and presented words of an angry nature about the Red Sox and their historic collapse, I had no idea of the effect those words would have on my beloved team. Friday afternoon as the news came that Red Sox manager Terry Francona had stepped down and was leaving the organization, the only words that came to my mind were: "Dear God, what have I done?"

I mean, it's obvious that Francona's decision was due in no small part to the venom that I had spit right here on this very forum about his team's epic fail. The man must have spent a sleepless Wednesday night reliving the horrors of September in his tortured mind as well as facing doubts about his future with the team. Maybe somewhere in the midst of all that he did some drinking, probably did some whoring, perhaps even drove out to the Bronx and found a homeless guy wearing a tattered old Yankees cap and beat him near to death with a log of smoked Gouda. Why would he do such a thing? Why use Gouda and not Provolone? Why would he even have such an item in his trunk in the first place? Why did he add insult to injury by urinating on the man's shopping cart full of shattered dreams? These are questions only Terry Francona and his demons can answer! But right now they're all on a fast train out of Beantown, most likely headed for the Windy City. And it's all my fault because after Francona woke up Thursday afternoon covered in filth, whore-stink and finely aged cheese, he must have read my blog and realized that it was time for him to go.

Of course I'm only speculating about all of this. Might not have actually happened that way since Francona wasn't even anywhere near the Bronx at the time. Seems in reality that he and the Sox were in Baltimore on Wednesday night putting the shameful capper on their season of futility. But that's neither here nor there, what matters is that my words obviously had an impact on the man's decision to part ways with the Sox and I have to live with that. And from all of this I have learned the aforementioned lesson of restraint. From now on, I will choose my words carefully, I'll think about what I'm going to say and I'll take a moment of pause before posting, I promise. After this one last time of course, because if I followed those rules today I definitely wouldn't be putting this shit up.

But in the here and now, all I can do is apologize to Red Sox Nation for my part in our uncertain future. Terry Francona was a great manager. He ended Boston's 86-year championship drought with not one but two World Series titles and for that we will always be grateful. If he does end up managing the Chicago White Sox as some have speculated then I wish him all the best. Well… not ALL the best. Don't want him to get hit by a bus or nothing but I don't want him winning anymore championships with some other team either. I'm petty like that. Especially not with the White Sox. We're the team people think of when you say the word Sox, no one thinks of them. Who cares if they actually came first, we wear it better, so eff them twice.

In closing, just let me say that the drifter Mr. Francona may or may not have beaten with a log of hardened dairy product is at this time resting comfortably at Calvary Hospital in the Bronx. And I might also add that on the night in question I was home… asleep… nowhere near New York when that man got beat. Honest.