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Yesterday was a torturous day at work. Nothing I did seemed productive, my stupor-visor hounded me about something I had never heard about, and whenever I launched Microsoft Golf, there was some damned 40-mile-an-hour crosswind. Lunch, normally a carnal celebration of gluttony, was little more than a pathetic exercise in repressing every urge within my body to kill the offensive/brash/loudmouthed woman who makes salads in Building 16.
I finally left around 3:00, abandoning the rat race for the snail pace of rush hour traffic. I find it amazing that so many people in a hurry can move so damn slow. Seattle traffic patterns are a combination of stupid people who drive expensive cars (so you cannot ram them from behind) and demonic interchanges; nightmarish fantasies culled from the depths of some deranged civil engineer's mind. (Arguably, all civil engineers are deranged; after all, who in their right mind would waste four years of their life taking civil engineering courses when any fool knows shit flows downhill?)
Nevertheless, after a small eternity spent in the company of one Paul Brendal and his endless barrage of Witty Traffic Observations from the KIRO TrafficCopter, I arrived home to a dramatic welcome from The Dog, previously owned *and* housetrained by June Allyson. If God exists in the details, then He needs a ShopVac in our house.
Thankfully, the television sat in the corner of the room; Pandora's electronic Box of modern life, Father Confessor to American culture's sins. Grabbing the remote as Arthur seized Excalibur, I confidently pressed the power button. Vacuum tubes hummed to life, (our television is one of those 7,000 kilogram monstrosities from the late-Pleistocene period), and a reassuring crackle of static echoed through the room as the picture yawned to life.
Not surprisingly, the station was set to CNN; "Dear Diary" of the American folktale. Larry King was fiercely grilling some political candidate with such probing questions as "is the Senate chamber as beautiful in real life as it is on television?" and "who is your favourite American patriot?" With a gulp, the candidate bravely answered "yes" and "Harry Truman". Easily journalism's finest hour...
Political shmoozing is nice and good, but I had a purpose this night. A divine mission. Son of Sam had his dog, but so does our house. It was Wednesday night. The Night.
Images cascaded across the screen as the remote control barked its electronic route through the aether, approaching its goal: 210 Mhz; channel 13; the Fox Broadcasting Network. Commercials faded to black, and the soulful mourning of The Melrose Place Theme wafted through our house...
All of these prepositional phrases and mindless imagery for a damned repeat.
- Ian
As Spelling and Co. desperately seek a new Sandy, we endure an endless parade of reruns. This episode was one of the first, as the overwhelming supply of preadolescent pimpleheads from 90210 reminded us.
These early episodes ran with three plotlines. The main story dealt with Billy picking up a Fair Fare in his Cab O' Love. Ya, she's in school, but beneath that Bookish Exterior lies the licentious heart of a Passionate Wildcat. Before Wee Willie can open his mouth to protest, Maiden Marcy launches a Probe O' Desire, in the finest of Oral Traditions. Billy, never one to argue with fait accompli opposes this Wanton Come- on by returning the favour. The next scenes depict Hardcore Ligular Combat and are not for the squeamish...
Meanwhile, Jake is Planted in the Pogey line, exercising his personal Trickle-Down economic theory. When a Voluptuous Vixen is ensnared in the Gordian Knot of Bureaucracy, Jake rises to her defense. Of course Jake is never one to use Reason and Logic when Gratuitous Violence and Shouting will suffice, so the Local Authorities award him a complimentary stay in the Los Angeles Bed And Breakfast for Tough Guys with No Brains. Kelly, of 90210 fame drops by to bail the Jakester's Keister out of jail and he expresses his gratitude by remaining Sullen and Surly.
Switching to Billy's Lust Life, he is scoring, while Allison remains boring. She seems a Tad Bit Jealous, but Billy is Oblivious to her Plight. During a Party 'Round the Pool, Marcy manages to expound upon their sex life in gruesome detail while several 90210 Brats pout in the background taking Careful Notes and trading Oxy5 secrets. Billy feels the Cold Hand of a Relationship curling around his neck, but Mr. Happy is back in The Saddle and unwilling to relinquish his role.
Jake and Billy exchange Women Tips at Ye Olde Watering Hole. Bill-man is feeling rather constricted by this Seductress, while Jake confronts the fact that Young Kelly of Beverly Hills can buy and sell him in her sleep. The Lads come to the conclusion that Baring Their Chests of this Grief will not only help their conscience but boost the ratings, so they break the terrible news to the Ladies.
After some tears, Marcy leaves Melrose Place, no doubt on her way to audition for "Studs." Jake and the 90210 JailBait cruise on down to the beach, where Jake plans to explain the Principles of Oceanic Oxygenation and its effect on Phosphorescent Plankton Growth along the Lower Baja Peninsula. Billy finally gets around to helping Allison paint the apartment, and there are smiles and chuckles on everyone as the episode fades to credits.
Wait, you say, what was the third plotline? Well, it had something to do with the Married Couple freaking out because Michael, that Insensitive Bastard, could not remember when he fell in love with Jane. Women keep track of these things in their mental anniversary calendars; guys just concentrate on which week is Bye week for the NFC Eastern Division. Luckily, Michael thinks up this first-rate "Bail My Butt Out" line and Jane falls for it; hook, line and stinker. End of (non)-story.
Yawn.
The basic structural conflict occurring in this episode dealt with Innocence and his flirtatious experiences with Knowledge, as represented by Marcy, the Student. (Marcy, you realize, is a Germanic derivative form of Marcia, which descends from the masculine "Marcus" or "Mars". Mars was the Roman god of war, and symbolizes the inherent strife between Knowledge and Innocence.)
Success joins the fray as her attempts to whitewash her guilt and past with Innocence, (as symbolized by the stymied painting efforts), fail when pitted against the calculations and overwhelming influence of Knowledge. Spelling wisely uses a sexual bond between Knowledge and Innocences, alluding to the seductive attractions of Knowledge to Innocence.
The expected liberation of Innocence's soul is not realized. In fact, the converse is true and Innocence relies on the Wisdom of Everyman to provide understanding. Innocence feels subjugated and controlled by Knowledge. As Robert Oppenheimer gazed at the mushroom cloud of his creation in 1945 and murmured those immortal words from the Bhagavad Gita; "I have become death, the shatterer of Worlds", so too Innocence realizes that Knowledge will not liberate him, but manacle his Soul to a Train of Death.
The advice from Everyman is sought in the company of Sex/Sandy who surreptitiously reinforces the libidinous relationship between Innocence and Knowledge. Innocence finally realizes that Knowledge represents Doom, and turns away from her calculations, abandoning Knowledge for the safe confines of Success.
In return, Everyman struggles with a modern-day middle-age crisis. The stress of life is overwhelming, and Everyman seeks the comfort and company of Youth, as evidenced by the appearance of far too many teenybopper 90210 nymphs. The relationship between Everyman and Youth is fraught with conflict, and rarely peaceful. The inner stress and turmoil of 10,000 Rogaine commercials hangs tightly over Everyman's inner spirit, and he seeks a liberation that is resolute and final.
Notice that he turns to Sex midway through his journey. She may not offer everything, but he yearns for the temporary reassurance she can provide. Youth and her wiles seem too great to overcome, and Everyman accepts his mortality and insignificance during a dramatic scene on Youth's doorstep. She enquires why he is there and he responds "I don't know." Everyman struggles along this path, yet each step is separated from the next, and no memory or record of the journey remains. A stunning visual epic of mankind's journey through time, summed succinctly into a three word response.
I wept.
Allison falls hard for a mysterious man until he admits his Terrible Secret. What could be so terrible that it could change Allison's life forever?:
Dr. Ruth Charles Nelson Reilly
"I studied under Charles Nelson Reilly." - Sandy to 90210 spooge.
When Billy daydreams about Marcy and Dr. Ruth, the barbecue catches fire. Michael, the EverClear-headed hubbie thoughtfully throws a cup of beer on the flames. I can only imagine his reaction if the apartment building caught fire...
When Billy and Jake pour their souls out to each other over a Cold Brewski, Billy orders one for him, and one for Jake. When the Billster leaves, he pays Sandy with two bills. Assuming Billy does not pay $20 for two beers, he paid Sandy:
"Maybe Billy's just an easy guy to like." - Marcy to Allison. Yeah, and maybe wild yaks will fly out of my butt.
"I've been busy" "Real busy, it looks like." "Sandy, it's none of your business." - Exchange between Jake and Sandy.
"No way, Jake. I've got too much respect for myself to play anyone's second choice; even yours." - Sandy reasserts that she never, ever, *ever* takes any crap from Jake.
"Relax, you've got a lot of friends around here." - Michael to Jake assuring him that even though his life is shot to hell, the "guys" can still swap Rogaine anecdotes and play football on the beach in their 100% cotton Dockers...
"You got something you want to talk about?" - Quintessential tough guy Jake sucks thoughtfully on his beer and poses The Question to the Little Blooper.
"No, I'm sorry." - Marcy to Billy.
"I'm sorry." - Billy to Allison.
"I'm sorry." - Jane to Hubby.
"Kelly, I'm sorry." - Jake to 90210 spooge as the Melrose Place gang join in a fun game of "Apology, Apology. Who's got the Apology?"
"I have to be home by midnight." - 90210 JailBait to Jake. Ya, if she isn't, her evil parents
might make her drive the Domestic Car to school, instead
of the Beamer...