Roper v. Furley
[ 1 Comment ] Posted on 03.22.05 in awesomeness, television
In the seventies, America was posed with a conflict of interests. There was Mister Roper: married to Helen, typically sad, and outrageously whipped. Then there was Mister Furley: single, whimsical, and outfitted with the typical Barney Fife voice cracks and squeals.
This problem arose in the 1970s, but after _Three’s Company_ went off the air and the nation was thrust into the mondo-rad world of the roaring eighties, the public sort of let it go. They had no need to play favorites – the ordeal was over.
But then, after I had lived out a healthy portion of my life, _Three’s Company_ made its way onto the Nick at Nite lineup and into my heart. There was, however, a noticeable rift in character between the two landlords of Jack, Janet, and Chrissy. I knew in my heart that I had to choose between one of them. I had to make the hardest decision of my days up until that point.
Sure, Mr. Roper was funny in the passive, aloof sense. But Don Knotts’ characteristic active comedy contributed to Furley’s character in a way that catches the spirit of humor by the toe and swings it around in the air before slamming it onto the pavement of Slapstick Avenue. Roper’s interaction (or lack thereof) with his wife, though, puts a tally in his column of hilarity; jokes about husbands not wanting to be intimate with their wives are outstandingly funny and, like a fine wine, are even better when aged about thirty years.
Upon culmination of my analysis of these two television giants, I came to the conclusion that these two fellows are like apples and oranges. Their stylistic approach to comedy is determined by their overall characters, which are as different as the comedic environments in which they were taught their trade. Therefore, I cannot compare these two men. I cannot identify one as greater. I cannot, by the same token, name one as inferior.
Thus, I applaud the characters of Mr. Roper and Mr. Furley for developing their characters in ways very different from each other. God bless you both.
NYC in a Nutshell
[ 2 Comments ] Posted on 03.20.05 in random
I’ll spare you every last detail of my voyage to the Big Apple by including a brief recap of everything I can remember:
Tampa. La Guardia. Super Shuttle. Milford Plaza Hotel. Carmines. Hotel. Subway. No one smiled. CSPA at Columbia University. Nacho Grill. Guggenheim. Contemplated killing self. Escaped. Hotel. Smiles remain nonexistent. Some deli with big pastrami sandwiches. Hotel. Shower broken. Columbia. Skipped class. Starbucks. Some Asian deli. Times Square. Virgin Records. Saw Whoopie Goldberg. Some pizza joint. Empire State Building. Cold. No smiles. Hotel. Shower still broken. Starbucks. Columbia. Skipped class. Starbucks. Carnegie Deli. Western Omelet. Rockefeller Center. Hotel. Lost on Subway, ended up in Brooklyn. Late for show. Saw 30 minutes of Blue Man Group. Stardust Diner. Sang Hopelessly Devoted to You. Hotel. Shower never to be fixed again. Starbucks. Subway. Smiles? Staten Island Ferry. Thought up theme. Ground Zero. Chinatown. Haggle. Had to pee. Hotel. The Producers. Richard Kind. Alan Ruck. Euro Diner. Western Omelet. Hotel. Euro Pan. Subway. Museum of Natural History. Dinosaurs. Planets. Subway. La Guardia. Tampa. End.
All in all, it was a good trip. I can take or leave New York City, though. It’s such a desolate and lonesome place: 17 million people and not one person has it in them to smile in the subway or talk to one another. That ambiance, my friends, is not the sort I would like to immerse myself in.
The lowest possible point
[ No Comments ] Posted on 03.14.05 in complaints, girls
Since they moved Oak Grove Middle School into a little city of a hundred portables in the field at Clearwater High last year, we’ve had to have crossing guards next to my house come dismissal time. This year, the guard has been driving a white minivan and parking in my front yard.
Recently, though, the vehicle has moved across the street to my drunken neighbor Steve’s house. Interestingly enough, that same van was over at the house on Saturday night. Late Saturday night.
It turns out Steve has a new girlfriend. My brother and I agreed (in all our bitter loneliness) that this mere notion is about the most depressing thing ever.