Apparently my last column may have perhaps contained “too many” references to “old” television shows (i.e. “Roseanne,” “The Golden Girls”) and it may have made some of you question whether or not I was actually a student here or even born in your decade or something. Well, it may upset you to know that yes, I am a 20 going on 21-year-old woman AND I know the whole plot line of “Cheers” and “Frasier” AND I know that one is a spin-off of the other. Scared yet?
This stems from a recent late night roommate laughing/shouting match over what TV shows were appropriate for me to be watching in my pre-adult years. My roommate laughed out loud, making a rather ludicrous claim that, “‘Everybody Loves Raymond’ is for old people.” This conversation led to her publication of a list entitled “Old Ass Shows That Jackie Watches,” which includes: “The Golden Girls,” “Everybody Loves Raymond,” “Cheers,” “Frasier,” “The Facts of Life,” “Happy Days,” “Threes Company,” “Roseanne” and “The Wonder Years.” Make no mistake, I could proudly quadruple this list.
I decided that I would reach out to Daily Cardinal readers everywhere who might face this ridicule simply for having an intuitive sense for good television, even if it does involve the woes of an adult man forever trying to get on the Opera Board in Seattle or three old women who gather around cheesecake to decide whether or not they’re OK with in vitro fertilization. These, ladies and gentlemen, are the characters of my youth, and maybe yours too.
Ok, don’t get your undies in a bundle: I also wanted to be Miranda from “The Lizzie McGuire Show,” knew that Clarissa really does Explain It All, and knew what a hydrodynamic spatula with port and starboard attachments and a turbo-drive was. I just had a more dynamic, well-rounded television experience than my peers I suppose. (And apparently I’m just a snot, which I’m sure helped my social life.) Anyway, I’m in no way writing to prove that I’m like totally down with the kids and their tweeny shows (‘cause I totally am), but I’m here to defend and expose the fantastic creation that is pre-“HIMYM” television. And you know what, I gotta say it: I hate that show. It’s like “Friends” only dumb. BURN. Sorry I’m not sorry.
Here’s the thing. When you’re a chubby chipmunk-toothed, pizza-faced pubescent child, you’re not too keen on hitting up middle school socials (a.k.a. bumping a volleyball in a circle full of Aéropostale-clad girls and hoping you’ll end the night without having cried in the bathroom once). No, I much rather would have desired to get lost in the roommate woes of Jack, Janet and Chrissy, or feel anxious about whether or not Mrs. Garrett would catch Jo sneaking out of the dorm again. Whatever, I mean I suppose I could have been learning how to French kiss or frying my hormonally-induced frizztastic hair, but instead I was gaining a repertoire of 1970s sitcom jokes that my future peers would reply to with simple blank stares. Of course I feel proud of my generation for a lot of reasons: we’re changing the world, we’re politically involved and we’re making thought-provoking art that prompts new ways of thinking. But sometimes I just can’t lift my head in a lecture hall, look out upon the companions of my youth and forgive them for not being able to do a proper Fonzie impression.
So I challenge you: Try it out, get yourself some Cap’n Crunch Berries and turn on TV Land (no, this is not a cute name for the land of good TV, but an actual television channel) and maybe someday we’ll all be able to pair up, hook arm and arm and begin to sing, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Sclemeel, schlemazel, Hasenfeffer Incorporated…” Singing off, shaking my head, God I hope I got through to someone…
Were you always curious to know what shenanigans Blanche was going to get in to next? Or did you actually just hate Raymond? Tell Jacklin at bolduan@wisc.edu
