The writer's strike has drained some of the joy out of television. We're not a big TV family anyway, thank goodness. We only have one. It's in the family room. Most of our viewing is done as a family, therefore we watch a lot of "The Secret Show", "Jimmy Neutron" and "Scooby-Doo."
But after 8:30 when the ball of fire finally drifts off after three books, two drinks of water, seven stuffed animals and a good cuddle, the hubby and I can sit down and watch something more mature.
The other night I was flipping around and saw the intro to the new "Bachelor." Let me state my opinion very frankly, this show is crap. I can't believe these intelligent, beautiful women willingly act like asses on national television for the attention of a man. Ladies, please. You are worth more than that!
But the part that really stuck in my craw, the worm in my macaroni salad, was the intro music, "London is Calling" by the Clash. I'm mortified to think a new generation might associate the work of an amazing band like the Clash with that stupid show.
Thankfully a new season of "The Riches" started two weeks ago. At least we can watch something laced with violence, sex, partial nudity and generous amounts of white- trash-pretending-to-be-rich. If it wasn't for FX, seriously, I'd give that damn TV away.
I cannot wait for "Rescue Me" to start this summer. Then it's nudity, sex, violence and hot firefighters -- i.e. sanity!
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