Everyone’s a (TV) critic!
Game Show/Advertising Division
Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back The Mighty Wickard (“Hailing from Blaine – Ask Your Doctor If It’s Right for You”): “Subject: Spin Class.
“‘Wheel of Fortune’ has always seemed to be a perfect targeting of a specific niche of viewers. One can determine the ‘bullseye’ of an audience by the commercials in any show. The ‘Wheel’ is packed end-to-end with commercials for newish medications named with 30 consonants and crowds of prancing and smiling people — but with half of every commercial warning you of side effects that sound more akin to the final stages of a Third World plague than the effects of something presumably designed to HELP you.
“Of course it would be more persuasive if the commercial actually indicated the condition it was treating (if you’d be so kind as to tell me what I have). Instead, we’re advised to consult with our doctor to ‘see if Moogooflazjovazemfin [tm] is right for you’!
“This may just be me, but I cannot IMAGINE asking my doctor about a laundry list of medications culled from these commercials and inquiring: ‘Doc, are any of these “right for me”?’ I can see my primary-care guy looking at me quizzically and raising an eyebrow, murmuring: ‘You’re aware that this medication is for treating morbidly obese infants suffering from bites of the Coastal Taipan snake native to Australia, right?’ Nah. I’ll just trust the doc to tell me when something appears to be ‘right for me.’
“‘Wheel of Fortune’ also exposes its intended targets by the very puzzles used. Naturally, game shows want puzzles the home audience can solve and shout curses at the contestants for being incapable of solving what seems obvious. Do they really think a 20-something is familiar with the phrases ‘THAT’S MY CUP OF TEA,’ ‘THE WALLS HAVE EARS,’ ‘MY EARS ARE BURNING,’ or even ‘THAT DOG DON’T HUNT’? Of course not. They want people like me to sit at home with clucking tongues and bulging veins, shaking their fists at the screen, lamenting how out of touch people are these days.
“And I’m confident outrage surges across the entire country when we see these selfish people CONTINUE spinning when they could just solve the dang puzzle and win the prize. The greed, the utter gall of these folks — trying to grab a paltry additional letter and being rewarded with the dreaded BANKRUPT slot. Good. They deserved that.
“Now that Pat Sajak has announced that next year will be his last, perhaps the 80-year-old puzzle creators will retire as well, and a new ‘Wheel’ World will arise from the ashes. Just his announcement caused quite the kerfuffle (put that in your phrases and smoke it), with everyone weighing in, not on war, politics or religion, but instead on who might be appropriate to ascend the throne and become the new ‘Wheel’ Grand Poobah when Pat spins off into the ether.
“One thing that won’t be missed by the lovely Mrs. The Mighty Wickard is hearing inevitable and repeated snide lines I toss at the television like so many darts at a dart board. Whenever a winner hits a lot of money, I snicker and toss in a left hook like ‘Well, at least now she can afford that nose job’ or ‘Good deal, he’ll be ready to pay off his much-needed liposuction’ or ‘With that much money, he can have ALL those teeth fixed. Good for him.’
“Just for good measure, I’ll throw in comments about every trip destination someone wins: ‘I hear the cartels aren’t burying as many human heads in the beach sand now’ or ‘We have the least rodent infestations in the region!’ or ‘Come for the sun, and stay for the inevitable cramps and dysentery!’ For some unknown reason, she finds my helpful commentary distasteful. She ain’t buyin’ it, despite my explaining that it’s almost like I’m giving her an additional audio track at no charge while anyone but her would have to pay ‘Big Money! :clap clap: Big Money! :clap clap.'”
What’s in a name?
Brand Division
Cherie D. of IGH: “The other day, I was indulging in a guilty pleasure of watching some old game shows on TV. At the end, when the credits are run, I was very surprised to see that one sponsor was Amelia Earhart Luggage. Huh? I checked online, and sure enough, there was a brand of luggage named for Amelia. Here is the information I found:
“The Orenstein Trunk Company created a set of luggage branded as Amelia Earhart Luggage. The famed aviator needed money to finance her flying, and product endorsements provided a way to do that. The luggage was introduced in 1933. It was marketed as ‘real aeroplane’ luggage and was sturdy and lightweight. It sold well for decades; long after Ms. Earhart’s 1937 disappearance while attempting an around-the-world flight, the luggage-brand sales remained strong.”
BULLETIN BOARD MUSES: “Here’s our promise to you: Your Amelia Earhart luggage won’t just get lost; it’ll stay lost. But we’ll never, ever stop searching for it.”
Then & Now
Vast(er) Wasteland Division — leading to: The highfalutin amusements
Zoo Lou of St. Paul writes: “Subject: Newton Minow, test patterns, Tarzan, Frankenstein, and that wasteland called television.
“The recent passing of Newton Minow, the former chairman of the FCC who famously declared in a 1961 speech that television was a ‘vast wasteland,’ thanks in part to ‘blood and thunder, gangsters, violence, sadism, and endless commercials,’ among other things, brought back special boyhood memories of being glued to the boob tube.
“We had a 13-inch black-and-white Zenith with a grainy picture that looked as if we were watching a snow storm, no matter how much we adjusted the rabbit ears. I looked forward to babysitting my brothers on Saturday night, because I could stay up late and watch Johnny Weissmuller playing Tarzan, and the monster movies with Frankenstein, Dracula, and Wolf Man. The broadcasting ended with a local show called ‘Souls Harbor,’ and then the test signal. That’s when I always conked out.
“It’s amazing how far television and TV sets have come since those ‘grainy’ days of yesteryear (‘Hi! Ho! Silver!’). But the violence, shallowness and endless commercials certainly haven’t changed, and now there are hundreds more channels to indulge our every whim. I wonder how Minow felt about ‘Dr. Pimple Popper,’ ‘The Walking Dead,’ the endless ‘Desperate Housewives’ (from Jersey to Mayberry’) reality shows, and, of course, ‘My Mother the Car’?
“But good things can emerge from a ‘wasteland.’ I came across some marvelous music videos featuring clips of dancing scenes from old movies [Bulletin Board interjects: Yes, movies — not television] accompanied by some upbeat modern music. And the music synchronizes beautifully with the dancing. It must have been a monumental task to amass all these scenes, but watching Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Ann Miller and a cast of thousands strut their stuff is a pure joy.
“Here are four great videos to get your heart pumping and feet tapping:
“I’d like to think old Newton would approve. And maybe even do a little two-step.”
Know thyself!
The Happy Medium writes: “Have you ever looked at your calendar and noticed you had written the time on a given date, but neglected to include the location, whom you would be meeting and what would be taking place? That happened to me recently.
“I have a paper booklet calendar that fits in my purse quite nicely, thank you very much. No, I don’t list my calendar events on my cellphone. The booklet will do.
“This is what happened: The other day, I noticed a penciled notation ’12:30-3:00′ on a Tuesday. There was no location, no reason for the meeting and no person to meet. I wondered what that notation was for. Was it the furnace guy. Was I to meet friends for a card game? I had no idea what was scheduled to happen. So I thought I’d just forget about it and wait until the day arrived. There might be a knock on my door for the furnace man or a telephone call asking me to get to the meeting before it’s too late.
“Well, the day came and went, and no one came by the house, and no one called to invite me late to the meeting. I still don’t know what the notation was for.
“Lest you think I’m starting to forget things, I need to mention that this sort of thing happened when I was on the job. For instance, I had noted a Wednesday-noon lunch at Perkins, with no name of the person or persons I would be joining for lunch. There was no indication for the meeting. I mentioned this to my secretary, and she just chuckled, imagining, with me, who would be waiting for me at Perkins.
“I decided to go to Perkins and look for someone I knew. Happily, I found my friend sitting in a corner booth, and I sauntered up to greet her as if I knew all along she was the person I was to meet.
“Did I tell her my dilemma? Guess what I did.
“Yes, I did tell her, and she admitted that she had done the same thing a couple of times. Admitting to a mistake offers others a chance to share their mistakes, and all is well.
“That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”
See world
Another close encounter of the natural kind, reported by Booklady: “After spending 25 years in our haven in the Wisconsin woods, I thought I had seen (almost) everything. We have had close encounters with the usual suspects: deer, turkeys, bears, snakes, foxes and even the occasional fisher, coyote and wolf. Birds of many kinds have made their homes in our woods or passed through during migration. Underlying this bounty of nature, there are always squirrels, the engineering denizens of the natural area. You would think nothing could surprise me.
“This morning proved otherwise. The only thing I could compare to what I saw would be a cattle stampede — featuring what seemed to be the entire squirrel population of Voyager Village.
“I was minding my own business when a flurry of movement outside caught my eye. Eight or 10 squirrels shot through the front yard, as if chased by the hounds of Hell. That in itself was strange enough, but they were not alone. At least 30 or more undulated through the brush and ferns in our side yard at full speed, heading for the road. As they approached the edge of the yard, three brave specimens peeled off to the left, while the remainder took a sharp right onto the dirt road and proceeded to scramble at speed toward the corner.
“Thinking some terrible creature must be chasing them, I searched the perimeter to discover the culprit. I couldn’t find one.
“A couple of hours later, eight or nine came running back, retracing their path through the front and side yards and racing through the back yard toward another stretch of woods. I can only imagine what was going on.
“Recently, since we stopped feeding the birds, we had a marked dearth of squirrels, leaving just a few diehards. One of these is a gorgeous coal-black squirrel with a red tail. Naturally it is photophobic.
“My theory is that we have been overrun with young squirrels who all decided to stage a flash mob to entertain me. I feel so privileged!
“Does anyone else have any idea what’s happening?”
Our theater of seasons
Mid-June email from Grandma Paula: “My flowers are looking good because of all the watering and fertilizing that I have been doing.
“I hope we get rain soon. The grass is burning up.”
What is right with people? (responsorial)
Friendly Bob of Fridley: “The story from The Astronomer of Nininger about having the clutch go out on his ‘Vette reminded me of an incident of 50-plus years ago. (Funny how I can remember those in great deal, but not what I just came into this room for.) [Bulletin Board says: You were going to type up a story for Bulletin Board!]
“It was early 1971, and I was stationed at the U.S. Navy Training Base at Great Lakes, Illinois. A friend of mine from New Jersey (also in the Navy) had just purchased his first automobile: a shiny, bright orange (repainted) 1966 VW Beetle. He confided in me that he had not the slightest idea how to drive a vehicle with a manual transmission. No problem. I volunteered to do the teaching, for which he was very grateful.
“Ed was a pretty quick learner, though he did have some trouble figuring out when to upshift or downshift. Once while touring around the hills of Milwaukee (not far from the base), we approached the bottom of one of those hills, and Ed wanted to go faster up the hill. So, naturally, he went to the next higher gear, and I got to teach him about the term ‘lugging’ the engine. The poor little 4-cylinder engine stumbled and grumbled mightily, as I explained about going to a LOWER gear to get more torque. As I said, he learned quickly. He actually got the feel of the clutch quite readily.
“One day in April, I got a gloomy letter from Minnesota, and Ed inquired about my dark mood. I told him there was no way I could drop some of my meager pay on a plane ticket, and he said: ‘Take my car.’ I was stunned, and I was way too poor to own a vehicle, but eventually took him up on the offer — about 400 miles each way. On the way back a couple of days later, I realized that the clutch was failing, and had to report to Ed the bad news. He said he could get it fixed at the VW dealership in Libertyville (about eight miles from the base), but wondered how he could get it there. Now I really ‘blew his mind’ (hey, it was the ’70s!) when I told him that since the clutch was always ‘engaged,’ I could drive it that way to the dealership for him. Remember that he had just learned to drive with a clutch, so he could not imagine that I could do such a thing. Luckily, some truck driving had taught me about double-clutching, and this drive would be very similar. I called it ‘no-clutching.’
“All went well on the way (OK, I ‘crowded’ one stoplight a bit to avoid stopping), and another friend drove out there to get us back to the base. I even helped out with the repair cost, which Ed later insisted on paying back. And a short while later, he drove me and two other friends to Hastings, Michigan, to see another friend who was on leave after shipping out before we did.
“A nice memory, but I don’t think Ed did ever get the gist of how I worked that bit of magic. And I would NEVER suggest that The Astronomer should try that method on his Corvette!”
Dept. of Neat Stuff
Grandpa’s Statuary Division (People Subdivision)
Gregory J. of Dayton’s Bluff: “I’ve previously shown you gnomes and cats that were saved from my Grandfather Leonello’s Twin City Statuary Co. after he died in 1951. This time I will present a few statues of people. They were not stored under ideal conditions, so they aren’t in perfect condition.
“First up is a World War II-era soldier standing at attention. He is airbrush-painted and stands 14 inches tall. There is a hole through his right wrist. I assume it is there to support a flag on a flagpole that is long gone.
“There are also two smaller statues that are approximately 10 inches tall. One is a boy in a large hat, actually a sombrero. It is unpainted plaster and did not clean up very well.
“The other is a large baby wearing a red kimono decorated with white flowers. I’d call this a doll except it is made of plaster, so playing with it would not be healthy for a child or the doll. I have no way of knowing for sure, but based on their general style, I suspect both of these may have come from commercial molds rather than having been designed by my grandfather.
“I’ve got much more statuary stashed in my basement. Maybe someday you’ll get to see more of it.”
Our times
Leading to: The darnedest things
Kathy S. of St. Paul: “Subject: Doing my Civic Duty.
“Bob Schlentz, a friend who left us all too soon, always told me that politics is designed for the committed and the should-be-committed. Which always makes me laugh.
“For over 30 years, I have attended political caucuses and social events, though I have trouble sitting still. When I fuss about boring meetings, my family members tell me to quit — which I cannot do. I figure I can’t complain if I don’t try to improve things. Plus, I gather great stories — such as the endorsement meeting held many years ago in Harding High School in St. Paul. The bylaws require us to meet in a place with Handicapped bathrooms. Harding had one of them, but it was in the girls’ locker room for swimming. Which was down a long flight of steps — and locked. So we got to hear speeches about Friends with Handicaps, and progress being made to order an Accessible Porta Potty — including having someone place a box on the stage, where we could march up to throw in money to fund the (Coming Soon!) facility. And watch paint dry.
“This year I attended my local caucus, and a meeting to endorse a candidate for City Council. I noticed that even-old timers had gotten rusty about good old Robert’s Rules of Order, and the process by which people attend one meeting to be elected to attend the next one ‘up.’
“Meeting One, this year, was showing up at our caucus to hear speeches and volunteer to attend the next level. Meeting Two was where we delegates endorsed a candidate for City Council, and could volunteer for Meeting Number Three — to endorse people running for the St. Paul School Board. Luckily this is not a year to pick people for Congress or the White House, when the ‘fun’ can go on and on. Even with a great pile of good books, it is hard to sit through speeches. Especially when the crazy people who adore politics show up.
“The system I describe has been used for many years, but it seems to have gotten rusty during the Covid shutdown. Plus, this year St. Paul and Minneapolis each has a ward where newbies seem to have skipped their caucuses and shown up planning to vote at Level Two. And regulations might or might not allow them to vote. I figure they need some coaching on local customs. I hope that they ask questions about procedures, and learn that rules could be their friends.
“Meanwhile, I have to end with a cute kid story. In my ward, the two candidates for City Council needed to have their names nominated for endorsement. My favorite was the 4-year-old son of one candidate. His dad held him up to the microphone so he could nominate his mom, and he did a great job.
“Like they say in show business: Never compete with kids or cute animals!”
Band Name of the Day: Squirrel Stampede
Website of the Day: “Television and the Public Interest,” by Newton N. Minow
Bulletin Board 