Welcome to the Melrose Place Update! When I first thought I was pregnant, I wanted to know for sure. I used the Melrose Place Update. No cups, no mess. Just take the Melrose Place Update to the bathroom with you and let Nature lead. If the Update shows up on time in your Inbox, you're not pregnant; if it's really late, you are. It's so easy and so accurate. The Melrose Place Update: Much better than a dead rabbit!
Many years ago I went camping with a beautiful girl I was madly in love with. Despite my pubescent fantasies, we had balanced for several months on a delicate point: too close to just be friends, too close to date. She was exotic, filled with as much danger and fire as testosterone-sparked imagination could pack into the body of a dark-haired, French Catholic girl from some Northern Quebec gold-mining town. I was about as exciting as peach Jell-O but I could impersonate Ronald Reagan and make her laugh.
We camped at our favourite spot on Georgian Bay, nestled in the giant boulders left behind by some long-departed glacier we learned about in social studies. There was no one else for miles, so we sat on the rocks, just the two of us on a limestone shelf next to some gnarled old pine tree, talking for hours about life and the future and us.
I told her how I was going to be a famous physicist one day, how I would work each day at a nuclear reactor in my white lab coat and wear horn-rimmed glasses as I manipulated levers and sought the ever-elusive Truth. I would invent some incredible device that everyone would want and become fabulously wealthy before I was thirty. Then, when I was an old man, I would donate my books and journals to my hometown library. My eyes glassy as I looked into the future, I took her on a tour of all my fears and led her past all of my loves except one.
She told me she was going to be a writer, how she would wake up late at night filled with words which burned inside until she could barely write them all down, filled with images so vivid they drowned out her own painful memories. To her the world was a giant box of Lego bricks, each piece crying out to be part of the Grand Design, each piece interchangeable so it really is only the artist who can fit them all together. She stared off to the horizon and talked of her fears and loves. She had many of both, but I never heard my name.
As the broad sky grew dark and the shadows took us in their arms, she asked me if I loved her. I innocently told her I did. "I suppose that means you want to kiss me." she said. Taken aback by her bluntness, I stammered apologetically. "You're such a fool," she said, turning away from me. "You want to kiss me? Come back here when you're old and fabulously wealthy and find your truth; then see if you still want to kiss me."
According to my journal, it poured rain the next day and we left for home early. I never kissed her and although we had many experiences afterward, I never spoke to her again about that moment.
I ran across this event several days ago while looking through an old journal. I've kept a journal since elementary school; sometimes very detailed, sometimes sparse. I started with a vision of freezing moments forever; I had read too many stories of lost youth and vowed to never forget. In spiral- bound notebooks, their covers festooned with all manner of ornamentation, I religiously scrawl my life and every so often I look back. Sometimes the memories are happy, sometimes they are sad. Even today, thousands of miles and ages away from that night, I can sit on the rock and wonder.
In the old Melrose Place, before it stitched new clothes from treachery and manipulation, Billy was a struggling writer filled with dreams and vision. He naively agonised over idealism in a world without ideology, he questioned commercialism and rosy futures. Alison's character, bent on success and submerged in the murky depths of advertising changed little during the transition to debauchery; it was Billy who lost his telecinematic virginity in their coupling.
Today Billy is some syrupy caricature of the Modern Neutered Male caught in a pinball machine called Melrose Place. Despite rueful twists the series writers toss Billy's character from time to time like so much stale bread to pigeons, he is fundamentally nothing more than plot-filling Silly-Putty. I like to think a slight shred of the Old Billy remains, some bony carapace of his not-so-distant past still resolute enough to keep a journal. There is so much to remember, so much to forget in a journal to completely abandon the idea.
I never became a full-time physicist although I did get to work in a nuclear reactor for a while with my white lab coat and levers. And although I've still got some time left, I'm ever- revising my estimation of "fabulously wealthy" down to a manageable level. As for the Truth, well, it's been ten years, over fourteen journals of cold, bitter Truth since that trip.
One of these days, I will go back to that lonely spot overlooking the water. If I am lucky, no profit-mad contractor will have turned my vantage point into a gently sloping front yard for some pompous Yuppie. And if the gods dictate, someone will be waiting for me on those rocks and we will talk for hours about life, the past and what we've never lost.
Ex cathedra,
- ian
Episode Title: "It's a Bad World After All"
First Broadcast: September 19, 1994
Michael and Kimberly are home now, back at the Beach House O' Love. Michael still can't remember anything about his Evil Past, so Kimberly spoon feeds him some lines about a "Bad Man" who caused her great pain. She then freaks Michael out by taking her wig off and showing him the scar. Michael dutifully emotes heavily and kisses the scar as though he were some Doubting Thomas gazing forlorn at his fiancee's stigmata in a surrealist take on Gustav Klimt. Commercial break with eerie B&W stills of The Kiss. Ironically, the commercial is for beauty creme. Go figure.
Matt drops by the Mancini Maison du Amour and over several scenes establishes himself as the New Threat To Kimberly's Plan For World Domination. Kimberly hisses at Matt and bares her fangs / claws. Matt realises Kimberly is not telling Michael The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth. Kimberly warns Matt to Stay Away From Michael. Matt looks pensive, as though he's unsure why he's had so much camera time. Cat fight!
Jake and Brittany engage in Sexual Tennis for another episode with That Lisping Irish Dame lobbing love balls over the net at the Jakester faster than his little Racquet can keep up. Amanda shows up at the boat to Mend Her Fences with Jake only to find Brittany on the other side, painting the fence and looking to Mow Jake's Lawn. Mixed metaphors, I admit, but hey; cat fight!
Jake grumbles for a few scenes more until he finally Does The Deed, the thoughts of which evoke images of Fingernails on a Sexual Chalkboard. Kathy gloats, then High-Tails up to Griffith Park where she tells an Evil Man With His Back Turned Away From The Camera that she has Jake In The Palmer Woodward of her Hand. (A little foreshadowing there for you observant types.) Yup, the Evil Man *is* Palmer Woodward and he still holds a grudge over Jake catching him at his Counterfeit Car Caper. Can Jake outwit the Motorised Miscreant again?
Jo spends the entire episode off camera, no doubt puking her guts out over Michael's new-found innocence.
Alison and Meredith sashay to Wisconsin with plans to press charges against their Philandering Father. Problem is, Dear Old Dad is an Respected Man in a Small Town. So long as Andy Griffith is the Sheriff, by golly, Justice comes in Sugar- Coated Dollops from a PEZ dispenser a la last year's Farmer's Almanac. Alison tries vainly to Fight The System, but Meredith cracks like Humpty Dumpty and runs when she sees Pa Parker's best friend will be the "Judge". Cut to reflective scene in a diner cut from a Saturday Evening Post cover as Yours Truly has a few violent flashbacks of "The Wall".
Alison wields Revenge like a sword and shows up at her parent's house as Dad whips up a barbecue for His Faithful And Forgetful Friends. She gets in a fight with Dad and suddenly Perry Mason leaps on stage, peppering the witness with sharp observations. "I couldn't help it!" Pa Parker cries, effusively breaking down behind his stony "Kiss the Cook" facade. "Your mother was so cold and I just wanted some love." Fade scene as guests realise The Truth and begin to dribble off to their cars.
Jane's dad shows up; a giant bear of a man who is only a White Shadow of his former self. They reminisce about how Sydney used to be so nice and pure. Sydney screams at her dad about ripping his head off. They talk some more about when Syd was a cute little girl playing house. Sydney screams at her dad about killing him as well as Michael. Jane and Dad decide to commit Syd to a mental institution. Syd screams at her dad about her not being insane. Dad talks about going back to coach basketball.
The Cleaver family holds nothing on Melrose Place.
Good day! My name is Warren Cooper and I manage the Melrose Place Fund, a specialised mutual fund based on the financial indicators within Melrose Place. Some investors rely on complex metrics and mystical indices to determine their stock picks, others rely on luck. I rely on the true barometer of culture and the public's buying habits: television.
A primary storyline has Billy moving from editing magazine articles to managing copy for an advertising firm. Smart move for him, and a wise move for the astute investor as periodical sales are stagnant while advertising firms reap record profits. Several large publishing conglomerates, most notably Time Warner and Random House, are taking a bath in red ink over failed interactive attempts. Accordingly, we've shifted MP Fund shares from the big media boys toward creatives like a stake in Euro RSCG which owns majority interest in Messner Vetere Berger McNamee Schmetterer/Euro RSCG.
Kimberly's experiences with her scar and the wigs got me to thinking about the entire cosmetics industry which has been in a mild slump due to the recent "natural" fad. This looks to be ending, and if the Eva Gabor ads in my Sunday newspaper's magazine pull-out section are any indication: wigs may be coming back. The natural fad is not completely dead, as stores like "The Body Shop" and "Garden Botanika" emphasise environmentally-safe and user-friendly cosmetics. Consequently, I've increased the MP Fund's ownership in this sector.
Sydney's legal travails highlight the constant need in today's hectic world for quality sanatoriums. Even if we ignore the upcoming movie about Dr. Kellogg's sanatorium in Battle Creek, Michigan, I still see a strong demand for quality health spas. The increasing economic polarisation in America, coupled with rising crime and a strong mental illness streak in upper-class families signals a shift toward family holidays at sanatoriums and spas. I found several start up health-care facilities specialising in mental treatment coupled with exciting weekend getaways: look for these to be a major hit in the coming years.
As always, my advice is dependant on a number of broad factors which may or may not have any relation or bearing with reality. The fact that I've become ridiculously rich with the investing principles in Melrose Place does not guarantee that you will have the same results. Always read the prospectus before making any stock purchase. May your profits be as high as your exemptions and never forget: if the government gets their hands on your money, they'll just give it to someone who doesn't work!
"It takes the signatures of two family members to get someone involuntarily committed."If it is this easy, why can't Alison and Meredith get their father committed? Why couldn't my brother and sister get me committed?
- Mr. Andrews to Jane.
1) Kimberly's "peach fuzz" hair comes almost down to her eyebrows when she "shows all" to Michael, yet in the scenes with "the wig" on, you could put two McDonald's billboards on her high-acreage forehead.
2) Since when does a magazine's editor pick the publication's ad agency? Isn't that the Marketing Department's job? Oh wait, I forgot: Marketing is always off dinking around at trade shows while everyone else gets the real work done back at the office...
3) Reader Tom in Chicago nailed a misspoke line in the exchange between Alison and her lawyer after Meredith leaves. Harry Allen talks about Alison's story being useless without "collaboration". Methinks the Lexically-Lame Lawyer meant to say "corroboration".
1) Alison's parents live at 434 Elm Street. If you look closely, you can see the Hardy residence just down the street...
2) Jane Mancini Design's phone number is (213) 555-7009. Her office / shop is in Suite E.
3) Sydney is sent off to "Hidden Hills Sanatorium". Great name for a salad dressing, stupid name for a sanatorium...
4) Sydney was incarcerated in Cell Block C. Speaking of stupid names, wasn't this an NBC "Monday Night Movie" a few weeks ago?
5) Kimberly serves Michael chicken gumbo back at Der Beach Haus and tells him the dish "is his favourite." Ya right.
We're all pumped here at Update Central as the list membership roars past 1600 subscribers, heading for 1700. We still need a subscriber from Antarctica to complete our "Subscriber on Every Continent" goal: anyone out there? We're also looking at additional services to provide as the time and technology present themselves so stay tuned!
"I am a victim here!" - Sydney joins the rest of America in the Cult of Victimhood.
"Anything inside you can get is a plus." - Bruce to Amanda who wisely depends on the highest form of all intelligence, Mr. Billy Campbell, to do her dirty work.
"Thanks again, I really mean it..." - Alison to Amanda, forgetting that this is Melrose Place: Amanda will screw her over twice before the episode is finished.
"Curses are like young chickens, they always come home to roost." - Robert Southey, motto from "The Curse of Kehama", 1810.
"Everything will come back to you eventually..." - Kimberly prepares Michael for the inevitable.
"A futile effort doesn't make you stronger, it makes you crazy." - Harry Allen, watching Jake struggle to show some meagre signs of intelligence.
"This isn't going to be easy..." - Harry Allen, trusted family friend, bites the bullet.
"It's not an attack; it's the truth!" - Alison takes on public relations for Rush Limbaugh.
"It's all so senseless." - Pop Andrews bemoans this fall's fanaticism over striped velour...
"It's the third outfit you've tried on this morning. It's fine." - Alison berates Meredith for setting feminism back 140 years.
"Of course I lie to people. But I lie altruistically--for our mutual good. The lie is the basic building block of good manners. That may seem mildly shocking to a moralist--but then what isn=92t?" - Quentin Crisp. "Manners from Heaven", chapter. 4, 1984.
"Everybody lies; the world is full of it." - Ma Parker. So is she...
"What I don't need is women mad at me." - Jake looks forward to a messy boat.
"I'll do anything to help. Anything..." - Kimberly takes a cue from Brittany.
"Women, they show everything; they never let you touch." - Pa Parker. What this man needs is a three-week vacation on Jake's boat...
"If you'd been there, I'd a killed you too!" - Sydney to her dad.
"Please Daddy; I'm not crazy!" - Sydney to her dad. Uh-huh...
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