Last week, Gossip Girl sparked a national controversy with its highly publicized threesome episode. The ménage a trois between Dan, Vanessa, and Lizzy McGuire wasn’t rated NC-17, but it did prompt the Parents’ Television Council to release the following statement: “The CW Network’s behavior was grossly irresponsible by adding a story line where a sexual threesome was to be celebrated as some sort of ‘rite of passage’ for teenagers.”

The PTC, of course, assumes that TV can compel teens to have grossly irresponsible, drunken threesomes with former Disney stars. (This is the same group that blames violence on cop shows, and homosexuality on the purple Teletubby).  But, if TV can force savvy teenagers into triple sex with Triple Sec, then just imagine what it can do to soft-brained children!  The entire fate of our kids’ future could be determined by remote control roulette: if the channel lands on Ni Hao, Kai-Lan, our kids will end up with 4.0 GPAs and full rides to college… if the channel lands instead on Keeping up with the Kardashians, they’ll end up with huge asses and gold chains.

In my own personal experience, I attribute my Commie ties to hours of watching Sesame Street when growing up (“sharing is caring”).  My adoration for Ernie and Bert, the ambiguously gay duo, also led me to have a soft spot for guys with clashing outfits.  And from watching Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, I naturally grew trusting of old men in cardigans who wanted to be my neighbor. (“Let’s watch Mr. Rogers slowly take off his cable-knit sweater!  Isn’t this fun?”)

So understandably, I fell victim to the power of television once again — after last week’s Gossip Girl episode, I immediately googled Shia LaBeouf to see if he might be interested in accomplishing a rite of passage.  I found out that the pilot episode of LaBeouf’s Disney hit Even Stevens was called “Swap”…  So, he’s in!  Anyone want to volunteer to be #3?

I wonder how the notion arose that children can only be taught something through massive distraction? I’ve just been exposed to fifteen minutes of a long-running and so-called educational program—as old, almost, as the Public Broadcasting System. The first logo shown is the still sedate, the second the new and vibrant logo of The Electric Company.

The operant idea behind this program, as best as I can interpret it, is that cognitive skills can best be conveyed to the human mind by distracting it in every possible way—so that the targeted skill will become indistinguishable from a drenching downpour of silliness. Only adults can possibly imagine that such cartoonish wicky-flicky can possibly be attractive to children.

Have today’s advertisers grown up watching The Electric Company? Or was TEC founded by people in worshipful imitation of Advertising? Or should I be congratulating Screwtape and Wormwood for finally making a breakthrough with post-World War II humanity?

In its first incarnation, 1971-1985, reading skills were supposedly developed inside pretty drippy sandwiches of comedy. In this period, programs produced 1971-1977 were rerun from 1977 forward. In the 2009 version, special emphasis is placed, again supposedly, on teaching children who are slow in learning reading. In the 15 minutes I watched, perhaps three to four minutes of such learning were sliced and diced into constant distraction, unbelievable sketches, wrapping conducted by incessantly jerking almost-teens, and so on.

The website of the new program is here. It provides the flavor.

In our family we avoided seeing or being seen on Sesame Street and did not let our children become electrified. But we lived right next door, you might say, to Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood and Friendly the Giant was also always welcome.

Electronic music pioneer Bruce Haack hips Mr Rogers to his musical computer.  1968.

If you’re just joining me: WAIT!  The opening post to this series is here.  Part 1 of our (so-far, pretty one-sided!) discussion is here.  And don’t forget: if you’re not finding all of this helpful or interesting, don’t worry about it!  I won’t take offense at all and I won’t think any less of you for it either.  I’m serial.

OK, so we left off yesterday with three questions, which I’ll repost:

1. What are the TV shows, movies, and books that defined our childhoods?
2. What historical events, new technologies, and philosophical ideas have shaped our collective worldviews?
3. What are the defining characteristics of our generation?

These three questions (with the exception of #1, maybe) are the questions which, I think, Nouwen used in the 70’s to write chapter 1, and their answers were crucial to his conclusions about a way forward in modern ministry.  The task, remember, is to do that same work, to ask those same questions in each generation.  In the 70’s, it was ‘nuclear man’.  Today, we’re called the ‘millennials’, a name I’ll adopt to refer to, roughly, anyone born between 1982, and, say, 2000.  It’s a rough and imperfect boundary, but I think it’s probably about right.

What we’re really trying to get to are some good answers for #3.  But maybe the best way to get there is to find the answers to questions #1 and #2.  Let’s take them one at a time, shall we?  I was going to try to do them all in one post, but it’s late and I’m having lots of fun with #1.  So you probably won’t get a post on #2 until tomorrow.

Question #1: What are the TV shows, movies, and books that defined our childhoods?

We’re looking at this, I think, because the stories we enjoy as children have a profound effect on the narratives we find compelling as adults.

For TV, I’m going to factor out the action stuff like Power Rangers and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles because, well, I can’t really think of any way that they would have a major impact on the way we perceive ourselves.  I mean, they were great shows, and me and my brothers used to have all kinds of fun beating the hell out of each other because of them, but they’re not really worldview-shaping narratives, if you ask me.

I don’t know about you guys, but my earliest childhood was spent watching three shows: Sesame Street, Barney and Friends, and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.  If you can think of some other ones that I’m missing—shows that define the childhoods of many an American twenty-something—let me know.

But check this video out: it’s the closing sequence of the last episode of Mr. Rogers, which aired on August 31, 2001.

Key quotes:

So, Lady Elaine is giving first prizes to everybody!  Probably because she’s feeling so good about herself.

You know, that’s how you can tell when you’re grown up inside: you’re sure that what you’re planning and doing are things that can be a real help to you and your neighbor.  I’m proud of you, you know that.  I hope you do.

You might just make your own trolley drawing.  It might be different from all of these, but it’ll be yours, and that’s what’s important about it.

By the way, the look he shoots around 1:37 is TERRIFYING.

For another example, check out this video of Barney’s classic “I Love You” song.  Another telling quote:

Big or little, you’re all wonderful, just the way you are.

Fun fact, by the way: in kindergarten I was Barney for Halloween.  The 6th graders on the bus that day traumatized me for life.  But goshdarnit, was I adowable!

Hmm . . . I couldn’t really find a super-relevant thing about Sesame Street, other than that, damn, they really wanted you to know the alphabet.  But hey, that’s OK.  You can’t win ‘em all, right?

MOVIES.  What are some movies that epitomize the characteristics and values of our generation?  Not being a massive movie-nut, I’m having a bit of a hard time with this one.  But Google referred me to this article at the Christian Science Monitor, which upholds—surprise!—The Devil Wears Prada as “the emblematic Millennial movie.”  Money quote:

Andy [the protagonist] is temporarily attracted by the glitter of the world of high fashion. However, like others of this generation who are driven by a desire to solve society’s problems, she realizes her true calling is far different.

Little Miss Sunshine and Juno were two other movies that came up on the internets.  I might also add Judd Apatow’s work: 40-Year-Old Virgin, Knocked Up, and Funny People. It’s hard to say what might be some of the common threads that run through these films, but I would say that with the possible exception of 40-Year-Old Virgin, these movies all feature broken characters (duh) who rely on their relationships with friends and families to find imperfect solutions to tough relational problems.  Not sure I’d argue that in a court of law, but it’s a start.

Hmmm . . . not sure what to do with all that.  I’ll sleep on it.

For books . . . let’s see . . . I’m looking for a book series that absolutely swept a generation of kids off their feet, something that every kid devoured mercilessly growing up, which people lined up for at Barnes and Noble every two years or so to buy and stay up all night reading, that people threw parties over and which inspired a series of movies, despite the nearly absurd length of the books, their complicated plot, and nuanced characters . . .

Dang.  I can’t think of anything.  But that guy on the right looks super-familiar, doesn’t he?

Oh well.

OK, so what do we do with all this?  Let’s try to boil stuff down to maybe three messages that we can pull out of what we read, watched, and listened to growing up.

1. You are special.  I think that one’s pretty obvious, and between Mr. Rogers and Barney, there’s a good reason why a lot of older folks are accusing us of having an inordinate sense of entitlement.  In elementary school, I was one of the few kids in my class to get a Panther Pride award, which recognized outstanding students.  In the second trimester, a few more kids got the award.  Guess who got the award the third trimester?  Everyone else.  The message: you’re all winners.  You’re all special—just like everybody else.  Think also about Harry Potter: isn’t part of the appeal getting to fantasize that, maybe, if there were magic, we’d be one of those kids to get an owl on our tenth birthday?  That we are, in fact, a little bit more special and important than everyone else?
2. The world has some big problems, and it’s really important that you be a part of fixing them.  I’m thinking of Mr. Rogers’ when he says that you’re a grown-up when “you’re sure that what you’re planning and doing are things that can be a real help to you and your neighbor.”  And also I’m looking at The Devil Wears Prada, where the protagonist gives up her unsatisfying job in the fashion industry for a more meaningful pursuit.
3. You can rely on your friends and family.  Mr. Rogers will be there for you.  Barney wants to be your best friend.  These figures are there to instill you with a sense of companionship, a sense that someone is looking out for you.  Maybe your own family or friends haven’t been that great.  But from the messages we’ve grown up hearing, we’re all pretty convinced that a real, genuine, loving community is out there, waiting for us.  We just have to look hard enough to find it.  Maybe, like Harry locked in his broom closet, we feel like misfits, and are waiting for the day when we’re swept away to a place where people, instead of being divided by selfishness and greed, are united by something, well, magical.

Cool!  I thought that was pretty fun.  Sorry this is taking so long friends, but I think this is turning out to be a worthwhile exercise and I want to have all my bases covered.  But alas, it’s 2:30 AM and Karin and I are getting to work at 10.  Good night!

I must say that I don’t really care which way about President Obama talking to children…

the children will find out who he is eventually.

But the whole things reminds me of Mr. Rogers neighborhood. And I am really sad he didn’t make his speech dressed like Fred Rogers. Because cardigan sweaters put children to ease.

So do puppets… but I bet that silly Joe Biden didn’t want to be Mr McFeely.

Now let’s never speak of politics again.

♫LAUREN

“I feel so strongly that deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex.”

That was part of a conversation Mr. Rogers had with MTV producer, Benjamin Wagner, the summer Wagner’s family rented a Nantucket cottage next to the sweatered one. Benjamin and his brother have been making a documentary about this endearing soul for eight years, and are still fundraising to finish.

Here’s the sweet trailer.

And here’s more info on the film and their fundraising efforts.

My own baby brother is now 41, but when he was a toddler, and I was his big sister, we spent many afternoons watching Mr. Rogers. I know Mr. Rogers wasn’t as cool as Sesame Street, but somehow we (or at least I) had an affinity for him. He was a Presbyterian minister, and we were Presbyterian. He was gentle, and kind, and had these odd puppets. For some reason, I thought he was respectful when he had conversations with the trolley, the puppets, and every single person in the neighborhood. I didn’t think he was creepy  at all (though I have had many laughs over Eddie Murphy’s SNL skits), but endearing and thoughtful. Like a friend who always has time for you.

I’m not the only one.

Making films, making sense, making memories….it all costs money. Support an artist today, and support this one if you’re so inclined.

Several people have expressed concern over my recent posts and their “negativity.” So I wanted to check in.

I have the ability to reflect upon dark, “depressing” content without seeing it as such. Yes, sometimes I’m sad, but like any emotion it’s just one of many crayons in the box. Just because I take out the sad crayon doesn’t mean I become the sad crayon. I just hold it for a moment, color in the cloud, and put it back in the box. On to the flowers. (Flowers need clouds, you know).

When I paint (because honestly I’m not a big fan of crayons, though I love the Mr. Rogers’ episode that shows how they’re made) I like to saturate the page and then add the negative space back later. Some people might see that as a waste of paint. To me, it’s just my process. I can’t do it the other way around. And life is like that – there’s just SO MUCH to take in that it’s overwhelming (not a bad thing) so I have to whittle it down. That’s part of the reason why I take so many pictures on tour – they give me a point of focus. A starting point for my hyperactive mind so that I can truly see something.

So when I’m rambling in my bed in the middle of the night I’m just cutting paper. Making silhouettes. Focusing on the negative is what allows me to see the positive. (Didn’t you know I’m a Libra?) Then I wake up in the morning to the above sight hanging beside my bed. Would I be able to see Bert – or those Grateful Dead lyrics – without all that wall? Without all of that negative space?

Okay, here it is – don’t let the title fool you! This is from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood – NOT Sesame Street. Trust me, I know these things. After all, I’m going to be on Sesame Street soon – haven’t you heard?

Thanks again for your feedback. You guys help me see better, too. Enjoy!

Would You Be Mine? Could You Be Mine?

When I was a kid I watched PBS after school until my parents “got” cable. (And by got cable I mean that they had an old cable box from Nannie and hooked it up and Voila! Cable. …Moving on from the illicit acts of my parents in the eighties.) I was flipping through the channels on Friday afternoon and was pleased to see some of the same things.

 1. Sesame Street. The granddaddy of all PBS kids shows. I learned about letters and numbers and how to sing and who Maria ended up marrying and just who could see Mr Snuffalupagus, anyway? And guess what? Nothing much has changed. Yes, there are new people on it, but Susan and Luis and Maria and Bob are still there! And they still run those awesome 70’s cartoons… 1,2,3,4,5… 6,7,8,9,10, eleven tweh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-elve.

Uh-huh. Just roomates. Right.

2. Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. I loved LOVED the neighborhood of Make Believe. I wanted Lady Aberlin to be my best friend, and I wanted to talk with X the Owl and Henrietta Pussycat and visit Lady Elaine (who lived in the Museum-go-round and recklessly flung her Boomerang Toomerang Soomerang all over the place with no regard for public safety) and the gay cat Daniel Tiger who lived in the clock and couldn’t stop crying because of his hurt feelings and that one who lived in the rocking chair factory and then in the rarely seen Neighborhood of Someplace Else with the Scottish Platypus family. Oh! And every now and then they would have a musical that would last the whole episode, like the one with the stolen wind, and they all started selling air in cans, and there were bubbles everywhere? Remember? No? Just me then? OK.

3. The Electric Company. HEY YOU GUYS!!!! Come on. Bill Cosby and Rita Moreno and Morgan Freeman and Spider Man and that one where they face each other and say one part of the word together until it makes a new word and Easy Reader? Classic.

You know there aren’t any good things on TV for kids like this nowadays. Maybe Blues Clues. Maybe.

Coldplay’s “Life in Technicolor II” video has a touch of a Team America: World Police vibe. As I’m a huge Team America fan, I love this video.

*Admittedly, I don’t at all believe their intention was to be Team America-ish.

Would you be mine? could you be mine? Won’t you be my neighbor?!

(i used to love Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood!)

And i have been singing that song all weekend – because it was surely a neighborly weekend.

Friday, i worked like a maniac, and got tons of stuff done… to the point that i was burnt out and decided that a brisk jog with Lucy would help clear my mind, before i attempted doing any more THOR Training (probably a smart mental move, on my part)… so The Lu and i headed East on our two-mile jaunt through NE Wesleyan University– without THOR along for the ride, we were able to keep a steady pace and not stop every five seconds… and by the time we reached the half-way point, Lucy was just about done- but we both pushed on and had a good time.

As we ran home, as per usual, we ran by Michel’s Ville Grill in historic University Place (our ‘hood), and i noticed the Friday Fish Fry sign out front… how fun, huh? so, once AJ made it across town from work, we drove the five blocks (should have walked… but there was threat of rain, and we are wimps, apparently). Fun times at the neighborhood soda fountain! Whilst there, we remarked, “why do we never come here?”… so that’s now on the list of things to do.

The rain finally came that night, and the next morning– which allowed me to be all sorts of crafty! YEA ME!

I made these for the AXO Hall of Commitment Ceremony & Event for Sunday

Thanks to Grandma B and all of her awesome Vintage Buttons!

and then it cleared up a bit, so i walked back to the University Place area (yes, i walked this time!) and stopped in to a few fun shops: Tiara’s, Whimsy & Sonata … and then grabbed a breakfast bagel sandwich at Mo Java… where i have also had my eye on this:

of which you can tell is now placed in my home – with THOR on the look-out!

oh, and i also bought this there as well – a little gifty for AJ… HA!

I feel like i was a major Neighborhood supporter this weekend, as well as a local artist/business supporter. i guess that only kind of atones for my online shopping habit!

but further to the craftiness, yesterday we celebrated Niece Sophie’s 3rd birthday- way too much fun! here she is modeling Aunt Kate’s tutu creations!

and now, on to another week o’ fun!

I made a couple of birthday cards yesterday, one for my nephew, one for Daughter. Nephew’s was an abstract thing, brightly colored shapes and silver lines on a black background. When it came to making Daughter’s, I had this sudden urge to draw a Jack-in-the-Box. The image was quite clear in my mind. I envisioned a Jack-in-the-Box along the lines of Lady Elaine Fairchilde from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. Here’s the result:

Jack in the Box Birthday Card

When I showed the card to Eldest Son, he said, “Well, isn’t that disturbing?” Young Son used Daughter’s favorite word, “Creeper,” to describe the image. Yes, Jack-in-the-Boxes have an inherent creepiness, just like Lady Elaine Fairchilde. I had apparently captured this creepiness and Daughter agreed, although she later said the only thing that made it really creepy was all the red I had used. Maybe that was what was so creepy about Lady Elaine.

Btw, the proper way to say “creeper” is to use a high-pitched voice and draw out the “cree” part of the word – “Creeeeeeeee-per!”

In one fell swoop during a five minute span of True Hollywood Story: Jenna Jameson, E! unveiled to the world the guys behind the scenes of the porn world.   Parading three men who commented on Jameson during the early years of her career, the show’s train started with the co-CEO of the Vivid porn empire, moved on to the stylist who prepared Jameson for her first scene (thus becoming the answer to a trivia question), and then finished with the Senior Editor of a little publication called The Adult Video News. That’s right, senior editor.

Without further adieu, let’s start from the top. . . and move quickly to rock bottom.

The Creep:

Steven Hirsch, Co-CEO of Vivid Entertainment Group

Steven looks a lot like one of the Maloof brothers, the freewheeling billionaire playboys who own the NBA’s Sacramento Kings.  And the similarities don’t stop there: in order to get signed by either the Kings or Vivid, being a good ball handler is key.  You saw that one coming, didn’t you?

Odds of a Steven Hirsch / Paris Hilton wedding in the next ten years?  100 t0 1.  Odds of Steven signing Lindsay Lohan to a film deal? 25 to 1.  Odds of him being connected to organized crime? 7 to 1.  Odds of him doing enough cocaine to kill an elephant? 3 to 1.  Odds of him giving me the chills? 1 to 1.

"Daddy, how did you win that trophy?"

The Creeper:

Lee Garland, makeup artist

It’s amazing what a stencil and some black spray paint can achieve.

Cha Cha Cha Chia!

The Creepiest:

Mark Kernes, Senior Editor of Adult Video News

According to wikipedia, Adult Video News is a monthly publication with 40,000 subscribers that consists of 80% ads.  According to the below picture, Mark Kernes makes the principal in Billy Madison look attractive.  Even without his lofty title, this is the kind of man who obviously knows his porn.  And his suspenders.

Find a job where you do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life

I recently realized that while I talked a big game about pledging to never again watch The Price is Right due to Drew Carey, I relapsed back to the show at one of the first opportunities since that writing.  Flipping through the channels last week, I fell upon the Showcase Showdown, and in accordance with one of my personal rules, I could not change the channel.  Final Jeopardy.  Fast Money on the Family Feud.  The final puzzle on Wheel of Fortune.  These are four segments of television I will not intentionally miss.  So, with my dislike for Carey as a host in the back of my mind, I gave him another shot.

After the first contestant blatantly overbid, all the second guy had to do was bid a dollar and walk away with a new boat, ATV, and dining room set.  But no.  He bid $24,000.  Great move.  Especially when the showcase was worth just over $22,oo0.  Just like that, both contestants lost out.

How did Drew handle this unfortunate ending?  Awakwardly.  Like a dejected kid who just had his lunch stolen, he said, “A double over bid.  You guys just bummed me out (pauses 3 seconds, then tries to recover). You each won $1,000 in the spin-off . . . that was cool.  And we gave away a camcorder, a car.”

I don’t know what I was expecting overall- maybe no one will be able to live up to the lofty status that Bob achieved as host.  Maybe I’m being too hard on Drew.   Maybe I should realize that The Price is Right is made for people three times my age.

Maybe this picture should never have been taken.

Please remember to have your pets spayed or neutered . . .

Saved by the Bell was, and is, awesome.  Granted, it is also awesomely bad.  Never before or since have characters been so typecast, stereotypes so liberally exaggerated, or plots so ludicrous.  With the Tori Paradox fresh on my mind, I couldn’t help but start to think about some of the other absurdities the show presented.  Screech’s talking robot, Kevin, who not only had the ability to speak, but also had human emotions.  The fact that Slater wore a jersey and/or something acid washed 78% of time time.  Zack’s ability to pause time in order to address the camera or, in one case, avoid a punch.  He could also smooth talk his way out of most any situation, and I suppose if he could escape his way out of detention by getting Mr.  Belding to voluntarily eat chocolate covered grasshoppers, he could charm his way into Yale.  But he could not score a 1502 on his SATs.  It’s mathematically impossible.

"Hey hey hey hey WHAT is going on here?" - Mr. Belding

A recent comment by the Los Man piqued my interest about the order of events in the world of Bayside (though I disagree with him that Zack was interested in Tori for sex.  She presented a challenge.  Also, there was no sex in Bayside.  Only kissing, during which an invisible audience would invariably “whooooooooooooooooo!”).  I was floored to see that in 1991, the show aired back to back on Saturdays.  The first episode of the day would be set at Bayside, leading into the second which would center around the gang’s activities at Malibu Sands, the club owned by Mr. Carosi.

Also, by finally looking into the original airdate of the each show, I was able to end, once and for all, the age old “Johnny State Name” debate.  Who came first: Johnny Utah, the ex Ohio State QB turned F-Beee-Eyeee AGENT, played by Keanu Reeves in Point Break?  Or the teen star Johnny Dakota, who burst onto the Bayside scene in order to film an anti-drug commercial, only for Zack and the gang to discover that he puffed the magic dragon himself?

As I always expected, Saved by the Bell appears to have taken a page from the Ohio State Buckeye playbook, as that episode aired on November 30, 1991, some 5 months after July 12 premiere of Point Break. Was Saved by the Bell taped before the movie’s premiere?  We may never know (I can’t find it on the internet), but one thing is for sure: Johnny Utah was one radical son of a gun.  Johnny Montana was not.

They only live life to get radical.

If you happened to be reading JSF on St. Patrick’s Day, March 17, between 4:45 and 5 pm, there is a chance that you may have unknowingly hit the jackpot of luck.  Around that time, the 3,333rd viewer visited the site, earning the right to all the good luck that will surely follow this person like a tail, the massive shout-out, my undying adoration, etc, etc.

In heartbreaking fashion, two of the more serious cases of the Fever came close- Uncle Mike logged in at 3,229, while Joe Sarge was moments too late at 3,334.  Both deserve shout-outs, but the rules were the rules.  Only for 3,333.  So, sadly enough, we will have to wait around for 33,333.  I will be praying that THAT person will actually realize it.  FYI: We’re now at 3,585, so only 29,748 more readers necessary.  Also FYI: that could be a while.  At the current rate at which the Fever is spreading, the number will be reached on approximately August 4, 2011.

More importantly, mentioning Tori replacing Kelly on Saved by the Bell aroused the interest of one MaineCoast12, and I’m happy to report that this issue has been studied and reported on by one of the great minds of our generation, Chuck Klosterman.  In his fantastic book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto, Klosterman expounds upon MaineCoast12’s very question, terming the replacement as “The Tori Paradox.”

The Tori Paradox refers to the show’s last season in 1993.  NBC, the network airing Saved by the Bell, ordered a 13 show final season, with the final show consisting of the six main character’s graduation.  After the season had been shot, NBC ordered more episodes, but the Elizabeth Berkeley (Jessie Spano) and Tiffani-Amber Thiessen (Kelly) refused to sign new contracts (stardom as a flashdancer in Vegas and a switch of zip codes to 90210 beckoned).

Instead of just moving on with Lisa, Screech, Zack and Slater, the show’s writers introduced a new character, Tori, to fill the void left by two of the three female characters.  The Tori Paradox, of course, refers to the fact that Jessie and Kelly’s disappearances are never explained, nor is it made clear by Tori shows up.  To make matters more complicated, the show’s final episode was the graduation episode, in which Jessie and Kelly are back.

The lack of commitment to the story from Jessie and Kelly is shocking.  You’re telling me that they could have witnessed heroic performances like Samuel “Screech” Powers inventing a new dance fad, “The Crutch,” to compensate for Lisa’s injury during a dance competition at The Max, and you can’t even finish out the final season?  Come on!

Head Cheerleader + Grade Grubber = Biker Chick (Bayside Class of '93)

Hello Neighbor.

He was a man that never raised his voiced.  He was never hurried, never harried, and never so busy that he couldn’t drop by the neighborhood for a half hour on PBS.  Fred Rogers was the single most gentle TV personality that has ever graced (or will grace) the screen.

Mr. Rogers.  And Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.

Just saying the name is relaxing.  I think of that little town with the little cars in the opening (and closing) sequence we followed up to the house.  Then Mr. Rogers would come through the door, take off his coat and put on a sweater (every one of which was knitted by his mother).  Then he’d sit on that bench, and replace his shoes with some slipper/sneakers, all the while singing the famous “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?“ ditty we all know by heart.

An ordained Presbyterian minister, there was no “fire and brimstone” in the man.  He loved everyone.  There have always been rumors (completely untrue) that Fred was a highly-decorated sniper in the Vietnam War and wore long sleeves to hide the tattoos.  But Rogers killed nothing but bad feelings and had no time for painting his body as he was too busy helping millions and millions of children draw on the canvases of their little minds.

Rogers was a strict vegetarian, a dietary decision that likely had to with his demeanor.  He worked fiendishly (the only time that word is appropriate for the man) to keep his weight at 143 pounds…why?  Because each number represented the number of letters in “I Love You”…1-4-3.  My weight doesn’t spell “I Love You”, but it does spell “It…”…well, never mind.

And Mr. Rogers was loved as much as he loved.  The story is told of Rogers’ car (an old Chevy Impala or Caprice) that was stolen while parked at the TV station.  When the police report was filed, every TV and newspaper ran the story.  Forty-eight hours later, the car was back with a note that read, “If we’d known it was yours, we never would have taken it.”

And then the show’s 30 minutes was done, and Mr. Rogers, who had not stopped smiling the entire time, would remind us that it was a good feeling to know we were alive, and that he’d be back when the day was new, and he’d have more ideas for you, and you’d have things to talk about.

He…would…too.

Fred Rogers, born on March 20, 1928.  A man who largely hated television, but got into television to do something different…something better, for children.  And when thieves return a stolen car with a written apology, I’m guessing that he was successful.

Happy Birthday, Fred Rogers!!

When I announced I was moving to Pittsburgh there were three things that people most often commented on:

 1. Steel. (“Hey, isn’t the city, like, one big smelting pot?”)

2. The weather. (“Hey, isn’t it, like, cold there?”)

3. Mr. Rogers. (“Hey, isn’t it, like, Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood?”)

Sure, Philadelphia might be the city of brotherly love, but Pittsburgh is packed with good neighbors.

How could it be any different? The teachings of the late Fred Rogers have shaped generations of children and permanently permeate the ‘burgh, continuing to influence those who live here.

Don’t believe me? You don’t have to look far to see the glow that memories of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood create in anyone whoever changed their shoes, donned a sweater and skipped off to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.

Even in our neighborhood (a.k.a., the WTAE newsroom), it doesn’t take much to turn a bunch of grizzled, hard-hitting journalists into giddy school children, beaming with delight when a special delivery shows up, brought by none other than Mr. McFeely himself.

Yes Mr. McFeely (who some might refer to as David Newell, but not me!), paid a visit to Channel 4 and we all turned into puddles of joyful mush (well, except the one guy who was on a conference call, but it’s not his fault. I’m sure if Mr. McFeely had been leading the meeting, it would have been much more fun.).

From scrapping over a chance to wear the specially-delivered sweater, to lining up for pictures and handshakes, it was like a bunch of teenagers backstage at a (insert band name here) concert.  Only much cooler and with a much nicer vibe.

In fact bringin’ the love is what brought Mr. McFeely to the station. Friday, March 20 is Fred Rogers’ birthday and the second annual International Sweater Day. All are encouraged to wear a sweater and practice what Mr. Rogers preached. Organizers said they were overwhelmed with the response last year’s event generated; people from all over the world worked hard to be a good neighbor.

A few suggestions (included in the handy-dandy reusable tote which was part of the McFeely visit swag) would be to recycle, turn off the lights, turn off the water, save stuff like egg cartons for art projects and reuse paper and boxes. Be a good neighbor to the environment, as well as your fellow man.

So on Friday, why not make Pittsburgh a nexus of neighborliness that spreads across the globe? And as comforting as a nice, cozy sweater.

As I couldn’t find a single person who wanted to go to Hoboken to see Maps & Atlases with me tonight, I instead settled in for what turned out to be a glorious night of being productive watching TV.  True, I could have gone out and been social, but a comfortable couch and Michael Scott beckoned.  And all the popsicles I wanted to eat.  Not going to lie, the popsicles were a major selling point.

After a double dose of humor from Steve Carrell and Tina Fey, I decided to venture into the land of cable.  As I scholar, I obviously levitated (the use of that word is what we like to call foreshadowing) to TLC to learn something.  I fell for the name and was full of big expectations.  Sadly, I did not learn anything.  Because besides a ninja and a pro baseball player, there are few things I would rather be than a magician.  But I did not learn magic by watching David Blaine: Street Magic.  In fact, I am more confused.  Mostly by the laws of physics, like how old DB can levitate, how he can pull off insane sleight of hand tricks and my personal favorite, throw a deck of cards against a glass wall and have the card that an unsuspecting woman had secretly picked just moments ago stick to the inside of the window!  It boggles the mind.

What is also mind boggling is that it is probably the seventh or eighth time I have seen this very special.  It is classic David Blaine before he became a weird guy who hangs upside down for days or freezes himelf in a block of ice rather than just sticking to cunning card tricks like his street magic.  And that’s not to mention the hour long program’s spectacular cameos.

Instead of just jumping right into magic without the proper amount of foreplay, the special begins with an interview with Blaine, humanizing him before he makes you think he is supernatural.  The interviewer?  A young Leonardo DiCaprio, somewhere between being an adopted Seaver on Growing Pains and being your favorite and mine, Jack Dawson, who steals a woman’s heart away from Billy Zane, which is no easy feat indeed.  Filmed in 1996 (thanks imdb), it also features David Blaine pulling various shenanigans of the magic variety on some of the most popular NFL players of the time: Deion Sanders, Emmitt Smith and the rest of America’s Team, the Dallas Cowboys.

Now this was 1996, and Emmitt Smith was at the peak of his stardom.  His outfit reeked of both flamboyant awesomeness and the 90s.  Beige vest and matching pants? Check.  Gold earrings, chain and bracelet? Check.  A cell phone tucked into the front of his pants?  Check.  Timbs on his toes, and this is how it goes playas.

Emmitt Smith on Dancing With the Stars apparently bringing down the house with the Carlton Banks

But like all good things, with one last levitation, the special soon ended.  Until next time David, young Leo and flamboyant Emmitt.  I will miss you, but for now it’s time to head over to IFC to watch the end of a classic, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go on an overnight drunk, and in 10 days I’m going to set out to find the shark that ate my friend and destroy it.  Anyone who wants to tag along is more than welcome.

Watching Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal rebut President Obama’s speech the other night, I finally understood what Marcel Proust was getting at in his brick-sized Remembrance of Things Past.

From the moment Jindal glided up to the podium and began delivering an oversimplified history lesson on the “redemptive journey” that the President’s speech represented, I had a flashback to 1977.  I was no longer a 37-year old man watching the Republican rebuttal, but a five year old boy watching an episode of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.

Jindal’s lethargic delivery and the patronizing substance of his remarks evoked my favorite children’s television star.  After the first minute, I was wondering whether Jindal was going to put on a pair of slippers and zip up a sweater.

Howdy neighbor!

No disrespect to the late Fred Rogers, but the man’s job was to instruct children on adult concepts in a way they could easily understand.  Perhaps Jindal thinks immigration policy, health care and personal finance are beyond the grasp of ordinary Americans.

How else do you explain something like this:

“[A]ll Americans are moved by the president’s personal story — the son of an American mother and a Kenyan father, who grew up to become leader of the free world.  Like the president’s father, my parents came to this country from a distant land.  When they arrived in Baton Rouge, my mother was already 4½ months pregnant. I was what folks in the insurance industry now call a ‘preexisting condition.’…  Even after landing a job, [my dad] could still not afford to pay for my delivery — so he worked out an installment plan with the doctor.  Fortunately for me, he never missed a payment.  …  [H]e would tell me, ‘Bobby, Americans can do anything.’”

I wondered whether Jindal would tell us a story next.

And then he did.

Leaving the Neighborhood-of-Make-Believe, he set out for greener pastures, regaling his listeners in a folksy voice with the tale of a rural sheriff with a compassionate heart.

Another Proustian episode.  Only now, I was twelve years old and watching re-runs of The Andy Griffith Show.

The lawman he described yelling at someone on the telephone to come and arrest him could have been Barney Fife.  Jindal himself was starting to sound an awful lot like Gomer Pyle.

The rest of the speech was a meandering riff on the “Americans can do anything” nugget his father imparted on him.  Jindal talked about achieving energy independence, greater transparency in government, fiscal responsibility and military strength, but it was meaningless.

How can you take a politician seriously when he talks to the voters as if he were addressing pre-schoolers at recess?

The Republicans should stop trying to prove the GOP is not a party of old, wealthy white men.  Sarah Palin only succeeded in swelling their rolls with lecherous “dudes” who had a Calamity Jane fetish.  In Bobby Jindal, the Republican Party must have been hoping it would find its own Obama.

They came up short.  Instead of trying to find an Obama antidote, they should focus on reconstituting their core values with ones that speak to the needs of average, middle-class Americans.  For that, they need look no further than America’s suddenly all-time favorite president, Abraham Lincoln.

Perhaps the Republicans should start reading Proust-they may realize that the key to their future lies in their past.

Yea, that’s right.  That’s Mr. Rogers you see here. I’ll start off by pointing out that Ryan Willms at h(y)r collective just recently did a piece on Mr. Rogers highlighting his style so be sure to check that out.  It’s good stuff.  

This post is something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.  We all remember the show.  We recall with fondness the memories of the trolly, wimpy Daniel the Lion, Mr. Rogers’ simple Keds-esque lace ups, and speedy deliveries.  We still think about the trips to the crayon and the scotch tape factories, and of course we remember that song.  But why was this show so great?  Why did it leave such a lasting impression on most of our lives?  It’s because the show’s intentions at its core were pure.  There was no agenda.  Barney taught us to share.  Reading Rainbow instructed us to read.  Sesame Street invited us to learn.  The mission of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, however, was simply to introduce children to the workings of the world in a way they could understand with a mild-mannered, always-smiling, charming grandfather figure as their guide.  

Mr. Rogers was the man.  He knew how our favorite cookies, crayons, and glue were all made (all items in our youth we came across on a regular basis), and he had the hookups to take us on trips to share with us this knowledge.  He had the puppets and the dopest puppet stage you could imagine.  He wore simple cardigan sweaters while playing his piano.  He fed his fish.  And…he had a miniature trolly that was connected to his house!  In high school, when I heard he passed away in 2003, I was surprisingly sad.  But I realized that all good things must come to an end.  I’m just happy that I’m able to reminisce about his show.

Whenever you find a random roommate on craigslist, there are always risks for all parties involved.  Like maybe they don’t clean up after themselves or don’t do the dishes.  Or maybe they have a super annoying habit they somehow suppressed during the initial meeting and lease signing.  Of course, you could end up with someone whose idea of a wild night is having the boys over to the apartment for a rousing game of Magic: The Gathering.  Or worse, they could kill you in your sleep.

So far, after almost 6 months, I can report that random craigslist Jack has worked out well to quite well.  He’s introduced me to new things that have become mass media staples in my life.  Girl Talk dance parties.   Blu-ray movies on his PS3.  American Idol (ok, that one’s not so much a staple in my life.  Although the new judge is pretty cute).  The Sweet Wizard Band (his band with college friends that only have concerts in our apartment between the hours of midnight and 5am).

But the most important contribution he has made, without a doubt, is getting me addicted to 24.  Yes, I realize this is the 7th season of the show, and the critics, not to mention countless friends, have loved it from the start.  I missed the boat when the show first came out while I was in college, and have found various excuses not to watch it since.  But because Jack is a fan, my Monday nights have improved dramatically.  First, from 8:30-9, the best sitcom on TV right now, How I Met Your Mother, transports me to a version of New York where everyone is gorgeous, well dressed and ridiculously funny.  Wait, I just described my apartment.

We're so classy. And hilarious.

This is a great prelude to watching Jack Bauer absolutely dominate and attempt to save the free world.  Right now, he is single-handedly protecting both America and Sangala.  While I don’t have any previous seasons to compare it to (though Jack does have all previous seasons on dvd, so I anticipate a hardcore 24 binge in my future), the action is pretty fast and furious.  And extremely satisfying.

During an episode a few weeks ago, however, I was hit with a deep depression while watching Bauer save approximately 100,000 Sangalians between the hours of 11am and 12 noon.  The feeling of despair did not come from comparing what I would ideally be doing during that timeframe to what the great Jack Bauer did.   Obviously, I would want to be watching The Price is Right.  What got me depressed is the fact that this will never happen again.

Jack Bauer may be able to save the world, and he may be able to do it outside the law, but he cannot force me to watch Drew Carey host The Price is Right. Watching Carey host the show is kind of like witnessing the ridiculously socially awkward kid try to ask a girl to dance back in 7th grade.  I used to be a hardcore Price is Right fan, but Carey has killed the show for me.  I once saw a women guess the exact price of a car, and his reaction was about as enthusiastic as if he had just found a $1 bill in his jacket pocket.

Bob Barker, on the other hand, would have not only celebrated with the woman, he would have let her kiss him on the cheek (arguably a better prize than a new car).

The Price is WRONG, bitch

Man, I'm sweet