2008 Woodie Awards
Vote Absentee
That's not Aunt Viv! THAT'S NOT AUNT VIV!
Rich Knight
Issue date: 12/12/05 Section: Life & Leisure
I hate television. Yes, I said it, and don't you dare pretend that I didn't, you couch potato, you. And for crying out loud, take those hands off your ears and please stop trying to quiet my heresy by yodeling "la la la la la," you all need to hear this. Especially all you "West Wing" fans out there who refuse to admit that the show has gone downhill.
So repeat after me: I...in all my life of watching television...have been disappointed at least once by a program...and I'll never forgive television for it...ever...
C'mon now, say those last lines too. It's important for your catharsis.
Okay, fine, don't say them, but I've already gotten this onus off my chest and I'll tell you why.
I have been disappointed by television not once, but TWICE!
It all happened in 1993. It was a very emotional year for me. The war between Super Nintendo and Sega Genesis was just beginning to get crispy, and the ingenious combination of "clear" and "cola" (CRYSTAL PEPSI FOREVER!) was the rhubarb and brussel sprouts of the 20th century.
Yep, you could say that things were going pretty alright for me. So alright, in fact, that the only thing that could make it even more alright (possibly, uber-alright) was an evening with "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."
I sang along to the opening theme music while scarfing down some pecan twists and a bottle of Crystal Pepsi: "Now this is a story all 'bout how (burp!) life got flipped, turned upside down, and I'd like to take a minute, so just sit right there, and I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air..." and you know the rest.
After the infectious theme song, I sat back, patted my burly belly and prepared myself. It was a new season, and I'd waited a whole summer for this moment. And oh!, how great it was to see all my old friends again. They were all there: Will, Carlton, Hillary (sigh), Ashley, Geoffrey, Jazzy Jeff, Uncle Phil and Aunt Viv.
But then it hit me like a crazy train steered by Ozzy Osbourne.
So repeat after me: I...in all my life of watching television...have been disappointed at least once by a program...and I'll never forgive television for it...ever...
C'mon now, say those last lines too. It's important for your catharsis.
Okay, fine, don't say them, but I've already gotten this onus off my chest and I'll tell you why.
I have been disappointed by television not once, but TWICE!
It all happened in 1993. It was a very emotional year for me. The war between Super Nintendo and Sega Genesis was just beginning to get crispy, and the ingenious combination of "clear" and "cola" (CRYSTAL PEPSI FOREVER!) was the rhubarb and brussel sprouts of the 20th century.
Yep, you could say that things were going pretty alright for me. So alright, in fact, that the only thing that could make it even more alright (possibly, uber-alright) was an evening with "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."
I sang along to the opening theme music while scarfing down some pecan twists and a bottle of Crystal Pepsi: "Now this is a story all 'bout how (burp!) life got flipped, turned upside down, and I'd like to take a minute, so just sit right there, and I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel-Air..." and you know the rest.
After the infectious theme song, I sat back, patted my burly belly and prepared myself. It was a new season, and I'd waited a whole summer for this moment. And oh!, how great it was to see all my old friends again. They were all there: Will, Carlton, Hillary (sigh), Ashley, Geoffrey, Jazzy Jeff, Uncle Phil and Aunt Viv.
But then it hit me like a crazy train steered by Ozzy Osbourne.