My Top 25 Favorite TV Shows: #2!!!!

When this "Dallas" spinoff first went on the air in 1979, I was one of the only people in my life circle that watched it. By the time "Knots Landing" went off the air in 1993, I had converted so many folks over time that I should be getting an annual holiday gift from Joan Van Ark. And, to me, Thursday night television has never been the same since we stopped seeing the adventures of those denizens of Seaview Circle, the cul-de-sac which actually exists right off the 405 Freeway in Granada Hills. I should know. I've been there and I have the pictures to prove it.

For many seasons, Knots' competition on NBC were those "must see" dramas, namely "Hill Street Blues" and "LA Law." Frankly, I can't identify with dirty cops or dirty lawyers, so those two shows did nothing for me. I could, however, connect with the McKenzies and the Ewings and the Averys and the Williams, because they resembled in some way people I actually knew. Somehow, Knots left those other two programs in the dust and my friends eventually came over to my side of the neighborhood.

Oh, don't get me wrong. "Knots Landing" was a Lorimar soap of the 80s and had all those juicy trappings. There was always the season-ending cliffhanger and Knots did them way better than the others. Because, like in life, there was unexpected turns that you did not even imagine. Early on, solid citizen Sid Fairgate, played by Don Murray, was featured in the last shot of the season as his tampered-with car went over a cliff. Now, you fully expect that the first few shows of the next season will be devoted to Sid in a coma, Sid perhaps facing paralysis, and wife Karen serving up some crocodile tears. But, the audience was totally unaware of the news that Don Murray had chosen to leave the series. So, Sid has surgery and a major character dies on the table right in front of your eyes. It was perhaps the biggest shock I ever endured as a fan of television. How they kept that all quiet is beyond me. But it paid off in great dramatic dividends.

Seasons later, Knots pulled this off again in a different way. When they wrote out the character of Laura Avery, essayed beautifully by Constance McCashin, they did it with an off-screen brain tumor. But, the real meat of the situation came through during a two episode wake and funeral with dialogue that was 80% improvised by the other cast members. The reactions were all spot-on and you felt as if cameras had been trained on funerals in your own family. It was amazing television and Knots never ever got credit for doing it.

Of course, there was all adultery, embezzling, cheating, corporate takeovers, murder, child abuse, alcoholism, teen drug abuse, unwanted pregnancies, and even more murder. And, in this clip from one of the best season enders, babies stolen at birth and then found about 20 episodes later.

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Okay, so maybe that doesn't happen to everybody. But, somehow and some way, "Knots Landing" made it all work. A lot of that credit goes to the totally believable cast. They were all incredibly plausible characters, even if the women's plastic surgery over time got a trifle out of hand. But isn't that just like real life, too? People trying to be somebody they're not.

No discussion of "Knots Landing" would be complete without mentioning one of the most layered characters ever created for television. That would be politician/corporate mogul Greg Sumner as played by William Devane. The portrayal is rich and diverse. The guy is evil. The guy is funny. The guy is totally likeable despite a myriad of faults. Each week, I waited anxiously for Devane's scenes as he did things with this character that certainly were not on the written page.

Frequently, Knots also turned to music in order to tie some plotlines together. One holiday season, they did so to the strains of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," arguably the best ever rendition of the song and done magnificently by series star Michele Lee. Here's another segment where you are caught up on some plot points via a song on the radio.




Again, a creative device that advanced television drama to a higher value. And "Knots Landing" got no credit for it.
In its later years, "Knots Landing" was my NY office's ultimate water cooler show on Friday mornings. So, it would be no surprise how excited my writing partner and I would be when series stars stopped in to our studios to do some satellite interviews. Donna Mills was beautiful and gracious and posed for a picture with us, which I can no longer find. Michele Lee went one better. During one of her interviews with a radio station, she put us on the air with her to talk about Knots.
Which, obviously, I can still do for days and days and days and days. A descendent today is "Desperate Housewives" and our friend Marc Cherry certainly does intimate the Knots brand well.
But it still isn't Thursday nights at 10PM. When my world stopped for an hour.
Dinner last night: Chicken with garlic noodles at CPK.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - September 2008

Here's the one for "Frenzy." It's almost as good as the movie itself.

The wonderful buffet at the Dodger Stadium Club.

Yankee Stadium Memories

Note to all readers: this is the first blog entry composed at 35,000 feet, compliments of American Airlines' new in-flight Wi-Fi service. If it makes no sense, blame it on the asshole behind me who keeps poking my seat.

Sunday marks the last ever baseball game to be played at baseball's greatest cathedral, Yankee Stadium. This momentous game will be preceded by some pomp and circumstance that the Yankees always do well. Of course, it's on ESPN which means that first pitch won't be till 9PM. Unless you have a TiVo or you're unemployed, few will be alert at home to see the final pitch.

Pour moi, the closing of Yankee Stadium doesn't have the same cache that the soon-to-be-auctioned-off Shea Stadium has. But there are some thoughts that are leaking out of my mental pores about the House That Ruth Ate A Lot of Hotdogs In.

Indeed, my first even baseball game was a Wednesday afternoon day game at Yankee Stadium. I had no clue about the sport at that time. All I knew was that the Yankee post game used to pre-empt Officer Joe Bolton and the Three Stooges and I absolutely hated the Yankees for that injustice. Back in those days, my father was a Yankee fan, prior to seeking and receiving redemption and salvation from God several years later. His cousin's oil burner company had season tickets, so off we went. I had been home all week from school with an ear infection, and I had enough cotton in my ear to keep Q-tips going for years. I also got my first ever baseball cap. I probably didn't wear it once again that day. The game was a blur and the sounds were muffled to boot. I know Astronaut Gordon Cooper was orbiting the Earth and they kept mentioning his progress underneath the Ballantine Beer logo. Years later, I tracked back to read what I saw that day. A Mickey Mantle homerun. But I was more intrigued by the megaphone I got. Once you finished the popcorn inside, you could shout through it. I used it frequently at home until it wound up being placed on a very high closet shelf by my mother.

Once I became officially married to the New York Mets a year later, my visits to Yankee Stadium were infrequent, usually when a Yankee fan friend had tickets and wanted impartial company. I recall taking the subway there in days when you didn't have to be armed to do so. One tme, we were making the change at 149th Street and Grand Concourse and I accidentally knocked my buddy's brown bag lunch onto the tracks. A 10-year-old Puerto Rican heroically jumped down as the train was coming to save the PB and J. This earned him fifty cents from me---officially little Jose was the first person I ever hired.

One hot summer day, my neighborhood chum Leo and I were sitting in the first row of the field level behind first base when an army of gnats flew in to catch the second half of the game. They were seated on our faces. When pitcher Joba Chamberlain suffered the same indignation during last year's playoffs in Cleveland, I had a rare moment of emphathy for a Yankee.

A bunch of my little friends and I went to the last game at Yankee Stadium before they closed it for that two year renovation. For the last three innings, the sounds of hammers and wood breaking drowned out all reality. Nobody left empty-handed. I have no idea what I did with that wood slat that used to be part of the seat behind me.

I was at the playoff game against Kansas City when Chris Chambliss hit a homerun in the ninth to win the series and the only way he could get off the field amid crazed fans was by punching several in the face. And, for some inexplicable reason, I was in Yankee land the night Reggie Jackson hit three homeruns against the Dodgers to win the World Series. I, of course, was wearing a Dodger cap and that was the first of many other times where they would make me feel terribly Blue.

It was all around this time that Yankee Stadium became my place of summer employment as a vendor which I did for parts of two baseball and football seasons. When you wore that little badge, you had amazing access to crevices of this old ballyard---places I never knew existed. I used to comp sodas to the pitchers in the bullpen, which was verboten. But I got my punishment when, one day, I tripped down about five stairs carrying a full tray. There was applause and even more laughter. The Clown Prince of Vendors. From then on, I think I got stuck selling those little containers of Sun Dew orange drink, which had much less spillage. Not a big seller amongst the baseball fans, but I loved selling that shit during football games. People were buying two and three at a time, asking me to pour them directly into their thermos which had been pre-filled with vodka. Get your screwdrivers, get your screwdrivers right here!

There were many, many years in my adulthood where I didn't go to Yankee Stadium. I think I was there for a few playoff games in the mid 90s, but the memories are fuzzy probably due to my denial of being there. Of course, there was one last hurrah for me there. Or, indeed, a last very-much-less-than-hurrah. Game One of the 2000 World Series versus the Mets.

I was seated in the bleachers amongst those animals in the Bronx not housed in the Zoo. I wore nondescript clothing. Not a speck of blue or orange to give away my allegience. And that was a good thing to do, given the treatment other Met fans got from the Amazons in right field. There was one poor little kid wearing a Met hat and he was so derided by this menagerie that I am convinced he has spent the last seven years in analysis. Or maybe he's simply locked up in a basement making some dirty bombs.

You may remember that this game went on and on and on as the Mets blew the game and ultimately the Series in extra innings. Within seconds of the Yankees' game winning hit, I was out of the park. Let the animals celebrate as if there was just crowned a new Lion King. I ran up to the Jerome Avenue El and there was an empty train waiting. I sat down and muttered back and forth as if I were an autistic child. "Close the door, close the door, close the door, close the door." And we waited.

I could hear the sea of humanity makes its waves down the street and up the stairs. "Close the door, close the door, close the door, close the door." I didn't want to be near any of them. I felt like the Beatles probably did when they were trying to sneak out the back of a hotel. Several cretins reached the top of the stairs.

The doors closed and I was headed north.

I never did go back to Yankee Stadium after that. And yet I hate to see it go.

Dinner last night: Eggplant parmagiana back in LA.

More Photos From Hell

Bad pictures of some very strange folks. These people actually might be registered to vote?

What are the parents of this gremlin thinking? Talk about trying to instill a career path for little Jimmy at an early age. If there's any justice, this kid wound up as a cashier at the Red Lobster down on Highway 20. You know the one I mean. The restaurant right across the street from the Piggly Wiggly.

This just goes to show that future Una-bombers can go to Sears for a photo shoot. And get a date to boot. Look at all those books in the background. You were wondering what happened to all those Reader's Digest condensed novels. The ones that collapse "Crime and Punishment" into 43 pages.

Handy Holiday Tip: Please remember to first remove your child before hanging up the American flag next Memorial Day.

I'd hide my face, too, if my parents looked like these two peckerwoods.

Two extremes of the size spectrum. How long will it be before Miss Chubbs plops herself down on the couch with a can of Pringles, totally unaware of where little Taco might be napping?

From the days in this country when there was no such thing as Supercuts or Fantastic Sam's. Just how long does it take these two knuckleheads to comb out the kinks when they wake up in the morning? It all screams out the rhetorical question: Whatever happened to Jennifer Beals? You also know that this couple's favorite movie every Valentine's Day is Footloose.

And, today, I fly back to LA over the part of the country where all these yahoos live.

Dinner last night: Chicken Teriyaki.

Wednesday, Can You Spare a Dime?

I'm in NY. And apparently just in time to watch it close down.

---And I thought it was just Yankee and Shea Stadiums that were shutting down.

---Excuse me while I check my Washington Mutual account on-line.

---Okay, whew, still solvent.

---I knew Citibank was paying too much money on that ballpark for the Mets.

---The Met bullpen can now breathe a sigh of relief. They're not the only ones collapsing.

---The economy is sucking, but that didn't stop a bevy of idiots from boarding my AA flight east.

---Where the "food for purchase" sandwich even went up a buck.

---There was one family going ahead of me through security and they were traveling with not one, not two, not three, but four strollers.

---Birth control please! It's available in all the stores.

---It was the first time Mom was on her feet in five years. As she walked down the hall, she looked like one of those calves just out of the womb.

---Back to the Mets bullpen. Is it me or do they all look like an apartment building janitorial staff on the Upper West Side?

---Okay, so maybe it wasn't Willie Randolph??

---And, with the Yankees out of the playoffs for the first time and the Dodgers apparently headed in, maybe it was Joe Torre??

---On the 25 minute drive into Manhattan during the morning, I dial flipped through the radio and never found a single song to listen to.

---New York radio sucques. One station is a clone of the next. And the morning chatter lulls me into a coma.

---Scott Shannon is still working????

---And you still have Mr. G the weather man, who will never be out of work because...well, after all, there's always weather.

---Whatever ever happened to that Black character on WHTZ about 20 years ago? Mr. Leonard.

---Now that was funny. And a trifle racist.

---Oops, we can't go there anymore. Barack Obama, you know.

---LA radio is a bit more diverse. Except for Sunday mornings where there are about five stations all playing Beatle music.

---Can't the program directors sync this up a little better? Maybe one of them could switch to all Cowsills tunes.

---The opening sketch on the season premiere of SNL featured Amy Poehler as Hillary and Tina Fey as Sarah Palin. The jokes were so obvious that I swear I thought up the same lines earlier that day while grocery shopping in Ralph's.

---Michael Phelps as host was a disaster. Not even a bronze this time.

---Michael's performance looked sort of like he hit his head on the side of a pool while doing a flip turn.

---The Presidential race now resembles a reality TV show. We have six weeks of pre-lims before America votes somebody off the island.

---Show of hands: Bush Doctrine anybody??

---The funny thing that goes unreported is that Charles Gibson had that wrong, too.

---Shame on whoever subjected John McCain to sitting with those bitches on "The View." When did those yentas become political pundits?

---Barbara Walters should be blindfolded and offered a last cigarette. That dried-up old hag has no business being involved in any political discussion.

---Especially when the last viable news story she reported on was when the cave men discovered fire.

---Remember the days when Presidential debates were serious events anchored by only the best journalists around? Now, it's nothing but game show hosts with the most inane of questions.

---"Mr. McCain, if you were a tree...?"

---Michelle Obama is going to be a guest cooking something on Rachael Ray's show. How much of a show can they get from watching somebody press a button on a microwave?

---The last thing this scummy ex-lawyer probably cooked was some books.

---Last night, Obama went to see first hand the devastation caused by the sagging economy in Beverly Hills. Barbra sang at a fundraising dinner which cost donors $28,500 per plate.

---For that price, I hope they gave you a couple of sides. And an open bar.

My bar, however, is closing right now.

Dinner last night: Chinese BBQ pork.

Bottle Shock

Here's another movie nobody knows about, but should.

Great small films are like walking on a dirt road and looking down to see a diamond in your path. Unlikely. Unpredicted. Certainly welcomed.

I knew little about "Bottle Shock." Indeed, it was sampled primarily because a Saturday night movie was in order and we were still seeing the dregs of summer populating the big screens. Essentially, it was really the only movie out there that appeared to have developed by a person with a brain.

Brain, indeed. You also see one to see "Bottle Shock." Because it is sharp, intelligent, and educational. The movie tells the tale of when, back in the polyester-laden 70s, the Northern California wine industry made its first inroads. And beat the scummy French in a blind taste testing that was initiated by famed wine expert Steven Spurrier. Naturally, any story that winds up with France on the losing end of any argument is aces in my deck. But, this indeed did happen and was the watershed moment in making Napa Valley and its wine-growing environs a viable entity when it came to harvesting the grape.

I really knew little about wine myself. I learned a bit from one friend several years ago who liked to collect it. And there's another friend who does PR for some wineries overseas. But, I had no previous concept of anything that I learned in "Bottle Shock." All this education went down as well as the finest Cabernet. Heck, I even learned what the title means and you will have to see it to figure it out for yourself. Let's just say, it refers to a very significant plot turn.

Alan Rickman is marvelous as Spurrier and I can't ever remember a film where he wasn't perfect as a British snob. My biggest fear is that he really is one. The rest of the cast is spot-on and there's not a clunker of an acting choice in the bunch. They all come together to provide a throughly fascinating diversion for any evening. I am sensing there is strong word of mouth. The theater was packed and there was applause at the end. A great reminder that films can work. And move you and teach you and entertain you.

And leave you longing for a hearty glass of red.

Dinner last night: Grilled chicken and vegetables at the NY abode.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - September 15, 2008

Amid all the devastation endured by Galveston and Houston over the weekend, there is a little levity. Especially when it happens to renowned dirtbag Geraldo Rivera. Watch and enjoy.

Dinner last night: BLT sandwich.

Tomorrow: Live from NY, it's Tuesday morning.