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 I was taken aback by the death of Michael Jackson; like nearly every single child of the ‘80’s, he was a staple of the era which saturated my first pop culture experiences. Thriller was my first “big girl” album, and he was referenced on, of all things, an episode of The Golden Girls.
But I was not as much taken aback by the news itself than by the news coverage which followed.
In death, Jackson commanded a feat which he was largely incapable in life: Wall to wall coverage. Some networks dumped breaks when the news first came. Fox News did away with regular programming entirely, parking Shepard Smith back in the anchor chair after Glenn Beck’s program, even as the evening progressed into time blocks set aside for Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity. Ratings suffered as a result. Still, the beat went on.
Although Jackson’s later life was marred by child molestation charges and increasingly erratic behavior, the coverage on the evening of his death (which was often labeled, bemusingly, as “developing story”) was an equally bizarre combination of tribute, celebrity obsession, and who-cares details: One network brought in an economist to find out how much Jackson owned his creditors. What will these people do when there's an actual major news story? And have we consumers become so inured to this kind of hype that we won't even know it when it hits?
Under normal circumstances the fixation would have functioned as a distasteful annoyance, but the story broke at a time the House of Representatives was taking a close vote on a cap-and-trade bill, which will have enormous economic repercussions at a time when the national loss and profits sheet is in crisis mode. Only C-SPAN carried the vote itself. Elsewhere, full web pages, complete with ads on the side, were broadcast by television networks, some with what were purported to be Jackson’s “last photograph.” More appropriate coverage included shots of fans converging at the Apollo Theater.
Is this a story, then, of human forgiveness, a spontaneous decision to celebrate immense talent despite possibly committing, as some say he has, one of the most wretched sins imaginable? Or is this a triumph of celebrity over substance?
“I’m Peter Pan. I’m never gonna grow old,” Jackson told one of his business collaborators. At the time, that comment meant plastic surgery, an unsettling predilection for young boys, and the creepily equipped Neverland, which held far more full-cabinet video games than people. But it now means that Jackson now sits with Marilyn Monroe, Elvis, and JFK, whose deaths, perhaps, catapulted them into an iconism they may not have achieved had they lived to see old age.
The nation implied this question in Jackson’s direction throughout his life: How do you top the best-selling album of all time? Did too much adulation break him? Might he have topped Thriller had he simply lived in a one-bedroom condo in Topeka, with nary a chimpanzee or a Ferris wheel in sight?
We’ll never know.
It was one of those blips of a sitcom, on which remained comfortably in the background—not offending, not exactly appointment television. Less Than Perfect ran from 2002 to 2006; a drought period for sitcoms anyway, but a pleasant enough way to pass the time.
For those who missed it the first time around, Less Than Perfect joined the Lifetime family (various times, DISH 108) as of early this month. It’s a refreshing addition to what sometimes seems an endless menu of Will and Grace, Frasier, and Golden Girls (comforting TV food as they may be.) While it didn’t break any new ground where structure or humor angles are concerned, the show made a bit of a stir when it debuted due to its star’s figure. Sara Rue, who played Claudia Casey, was reportedly a size 10- 12 at the time of the pilot, which, while average for most American women, is considered positively enormous in the media world.
An office comedy which explored the social lines drawn between white and blue collar positions, Less Than Perfect also made the most of the occasional guest star. A recently aired episode brought in Valerie Harper and Joanna Kerns as the lesbian mothers of Andy Dick’s character. It was a far leap from Rhoda and Maggie Seaver, but the regular cast was quite outshone.
Reviews often made much of Rue’s charisma and warmth—and properly so. But the hidden gem of the show may well be Andrea Parker, who plays the comedic version of the darkly neurotic Miss Parker on The Pretender. Also watch for the always terrific Patrick Warburton, who currently has a lead role on Rules of Engagement but is best known as Puddy from Seinfeld.
Less Than Perfect airs at various times, but it’s nice background noise, and perhaps more complex than a first glance offers.
It is perhaps fitting that former Tonight Show sidekick Ed McMahon passed away just as the second heir to Johnny Carson’s throne has been seated. While the genre of the late night sidekick was in existence before Ed McMahon, he’s the one who raised it to an art form.
One of the most striking moments of Conan O’Brian’s return to television was that he brought with him his left-side man, Andy Richter, who was beloved but who decided to follow his own path in 2000. Although Richter isn’t seen next to O’Brian’s desk, he largely serves as the show’s announcer and appears in comedy skits.
For his part, McMahon also took on announcer duties. He was genially regarded as Carson’s professional laugher, and generally stayed on stage along with the show’s guests, sliding down the couch a little farther with each introduction. It was good to know he was there, anchoring the show opposite Carson; for those of us who are children of the ‘80’s, his avuncular presence was a necessary component of Star Search and TV Bloopers and Practical Jokes.
In the current eat ‘em up and spit ‘em out reality show culture, McMahon appears to have made a living from being famous to the Gen Y eye, what with his enormous American Family Publishers checks and his popping up alongside M.C. Hammer in Cash for Gold spots. But what lies underneath the self-deprecating sense of humor which marked his later years is a war hero’s history: Ed McMahon was a Marine pilot during World War II, and remained active in the Marine Reserves. He retired as a full colonel.
But American Icons, however, whether they have a catchphrase or not, don't retire. They're part of the culture; part of us.
I should be grateful, I know.
I should be grateful that NASA’s recent moon rocket launch was even televised this past Thursday. It had two things going against it: The launch was unmanned, and it was slow by space shuttle standards. That any news organization would give it the time of day is encouraging. And incredible. But the coverage wasn’t without its frustrations.
The rocket, an Atlas—the descendant of the same rocket which carried John Glenn and the latter original Mercury astronauts—carried with it a Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter and Lunar Crater Observation and Sensing Spacecraft. These will provide fodder for intense information about the Moon, and will help NASA select a landing site for future lunar missions.
But here’s the frustrating part.
When I worked in public education at Kennedy Space Center, I made a great show of holding up a map of the Space Coast, pointing out the curving shoreline of Cape Canaveral; the vast, almost island-like landmass of Merritt Island on which KSC is situated; and the difference between the two. Although joined at their northernmost points and containing active launchpads, the two areas are distinct.
Cape Canaveral is NASA’s original home. It houses the historic Mercury and Gemini launchpads, and is still very much an active part of the space program. Unmanned rockets, private, military, and NASA alike, launch from here regularly.
Kennedy Space Center houses the space shuttle orbiters in all three phases of their life cycles—their launches, their landings, and their prep for upcoming missions. The Apollo missions to the Moon launched from these same pads, and the new Mars and Moon trips, some of which will be unmanned, will begin here as well.
Unfortunately, many journalists use the terms “Cape Canaveral” and “Kennedy Space Center” interchangeably. The typical error is to refer to the Shuttle launchpads as “the Cape.” (Astronauts and other NASA employees do this on occasion, but they’re allowed to. They’re astronauts.) Tuesday’s head-banging moment came when one anchor cheerfully announced that we were looking at a rocket at… the Kennedy Space Center. And then the on-screen chyron read: “Cape Canaveral.”
Oh… maybe I should just stick with being grateful.
I was in a pub recently (amazing thing, for a writer) and the whole place stopped to cheer and remark upon the television ad which had interrupted the wall of sports broadcasts above the bar: It was for The Snuggie.
Perhaps you’ve seen this, either in an ad or one the shelves of a drug store near you, “As Seen on TV!” seal included. It’s a blanket. Oh, but not just a blanket. It’s a blanket with sleeves. Because as the ad asserts, “Blankets are OK but they can slip and slide, plus your hands are trapped inside.” Well, we can’t have that.
Thanks to the Internet, The Snuggie has reached cultural saturation in a matter of months; in earlier eras, it wouldn’t become a matter of ironic worship until it was a generation removed from its first appearance on the overnight SportsCenter.
You can get your Snuggie in three different colors, get one for the price of two, AND bag a book light, all of the low, low price of $19.95, which of course brings into question the quality of any part of this amazing offer. It might also explain why The Snuggie is rampantly popular without anyone actually, you know, owning one. It is the Chia Pet of the new millennium.
The Snuggie has already warmed the hearts of the powers that be at The Big Bang Theory, which gave a sleeve- blanket shoutout on its season finale. Far from simply lying there for a punchline, The Snuggie actually played a part in the plot.
If you see anyone actually wearing one of these on the new fall lineup, let me know immediately. That’s breaking news of the biggest kind.
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