Let's Watch TV with Nathan

All the dishes are done. The kitchen is relatively clean. Daisy is grooving on some Iron and Wine in the other room. Angie wrapping presents downstairs. Holden is upstairs doing some sort of research on the Wikipedia / YouTube nexus. Laundry machines are cleaning my clothes, so at 9:20 PM I remember that The Office is a pretty funny show and turn on the TV.

The first thing to greet me is a commercial for some Butterscotch Stallion and that-cute-girl-with-the-famous-hair and a yellowy labrador retriever. Bad to the Bone is used as a music bed for tables falling over and general mayhem. Bad to the Bone. Yes. Bad to the Bone. Maybe I’ve lived too long, but hasn’t that song really been played out in that context? I mean, it’s not really a very good song, even if you dig the Thorogood boogie. Instead of waiting for the next movie commercial, where, undoubtably, James Brown will be there to make sure that I Feel Good, the mute button is applied and I soon realize that the show I wanted to watch is ending in about three minutes. So, here I am writing about it, instead.

Now, another show is on the screen. It features that Sarah Palin gal that makes me laugh a lot. Also, that thick yelling dad is on it. A fey lackey appears briefly. And a bald guy. And an Elvis-y guy. I’m stil waiting for Tracy Morgan. No luck. 

The mute button is applied again as that devlishly handsome Brad Pitt ages backwards. Kids need bedtime instructions and I need a beer. The meaty left side of the palm of Michigan is blue with winter storm envy. This house is stocked with supplies, and all my guns are loaded. Bring on the snowy apocalypse. 

OK. “Do you know it’s still illegal to be black in Arizona?” Thank you, Mr. Morgan.

I do really appreciate that blonde lady from Ally McBeal. Maybe it’s because she’s so over-the-top-theater-person that you met in college.

Maybe it’s just that I appreciate people with the courage to sing AT you in a loud voice … constantly. I don’t know. I guess, I should leave it at that. I appreciate her. Because, beyond that, man, that chick is annoying!

I was reading about single-serving Web sites today, when the Matthew Modine in me clicked over to appreciate the Heat of the Moment. Such a swell idea. Do they have a .journey top-level domain name?

And Oprah has made the scene! Yay! Our Johnny Carson is all up in this thing. It’s all about stereotypes and air travel and an elevator scene. Trapped in an elevator. It’s too short to reach Bad to the Bone status.

Socioeconomically speaking you’re more like a Latina femaie.

The button on this computer that does all the clicking is getting super broke right now. I cannot get the focus to talk about sweater capes and other sweet stuff. 

Oprah smells like rose water and warm laundry.

Dang you, Tracy Morgan. You have the best character on TV. You are a lucky lucky man. He is really really good at bringing the stupid. Oh wait, the show is over now. I was gonna talk about how Tracy Morgan was channeling Mr. Steve Martin, but maybe some other time. I need to poop and make sure those kids are really asleep upstairs. Well, if not asleep, then at least in bed reading good teen literature.

Happy Keith Richards Birthday!

Nathan