Hey Tina, did you realize that your last name makes a rhyme with EVERY letter in the alphabet?  Well it does!
A: Tina Aey.  As in Tina...Aaaaaayyyyy! (You know, like the Fonz).
B: Tina Bey.  As in Tina Bae.  "You're my bae, Tina-bae."
C: Tina Cey. As in, "Tina Say what?"
D: Tina Dey.  Like Doris Day.  Tina Dey: America's Brunette Comedy Sweetheart.
E: Tina Eey.  Sort of an abrupt "yay!"  "Yay, Tina Yay!"
F: Tina Ffey.  Prounced like "ph."  When you want to make your presence known.  "I'm Tina Phhhey!"
G: Tina Gey. That time you experimented in college
H: Tina Hey.  "Hey, Tina Hey!  Love your hair, hope you win.  Mean it!"
I:  Tina Iey.  Prounced "I-ay."  Almost like the street version of "all right."
J:  Tina Jey.  Works well in the South.  "...That's my time y'all! I'm Miss Tina Jey...'G-night!"
K: Tina Key.  Pronounced "Kay."  Like Mary Kay Cosmetics.  Can be used as a question: "...Tina, 'kay?"

L: Tina Ley  Like "lei," of course, the traditional Hawaiian floral necklace.  Insert joke here.
M: Tina Mey.  Tina May.  Another good one for the South.  "Hey y'all, I'm Tina May and this-a here is my parade float!"
N: Tina Ney.  Tina Nay.  "Tina, nay, this does not bode well for the Church Elders!"
O: Tina Oey.  Tina O-aye.  Sounds Hawaiian to me.  Insert joke here.
P: Tina Pey. Tina Pay.  "Tina Pay with American Express Centurion Card, Tarzan!"
Q: Tina Qey. Pronounced "Quay."  As in: "Dock the ship at Tina Quay, Cap'n!"
R: Tina Rey.  Tina Ray. From that time when you played the bass in a jazz quartet: The Tina Ray Three. Irony.
S: Tina Sey.  "Tina, Say it ain't so!"

T: Tina Tey. Tina Tay.  With a lisp: "Tina, tay it ain't tho!"
U: Tina Uey. Tina Ew-ay.  "Tina, you way over the top, girl!"
V: Tina Vey.  German accent: "Teena hess veys of making you talk..."
W: Tina Wey. Tina Way.  It's a charming little cul-de-sac off of Laurel Canyon.  Where Tina writes folk songs. For her                               jazz quartet. Double irony.
X: Tina Xey.  Pronounced "Ex-ay."  In Pig Latin.  "Tina ex-ayed the etch-skay."
Y: Tina Yey.  This one is a full on "Yay!" like they teach you at cheerleading camp.
​Z: Tina Zey.  Pronounced "Zay." German accent: "Teena, zay...vhat veys do you have of making people talk?"  Tina: "I                             play the bass violin for them."

So, I don't have to tell you about all the "reality" shows on the air; those shows that are somehow even less realistic than the dumb scripted shows we watched up until, I suppose MTV's The Real World which set the template.  And of course the competitive element.  And of course, of course, the "romance" element.  Well, I've come up with an idea for a show that features all of these stupid elements: Celebrity Love Pass or Celebrity (Place Heart Icon here) Pass.
You've heard of the "celebrity pass," yes?  It's that ridiculous concept that monogamous couples have, wherein they get a pass from their mate to "make love" to a particular celebrity they are enamored of?  Say, the wife's "pass" is, oh, I don't know...Aaron Rodgers.  And the husband's is...oh, I don't know...Maggie Q.  Of course, it could never happen because the whole thing is predicated on the assumption that the celebrity in question would "make love" to a total stranger.  I mean, how else could these fantasy assignations occur, other than in, say, an airport restroom or a restaurant coat-check room?  Or a hotel spa?

This game also presupposes that all celebrities are randy, horny, hungry, thirsty and slutty and will do it with anybody, anytime, anywhere!
But my show removes the presupposition!  The celebrity is "in."  They're ripe and ready to bang the contestant that chooses them.  Hey, they're getting a pay-check and publicity; sure beats voice-over work for Home Depot.

So, my concept of the show is kind of like The Bachelor meets The Great British Baking Show meets Indecent Proposal .  Our host is someone like, oh, let's say, Helen Mirren.  She's classy and unflappable; but you could picture her getting it on with some tall, dark stranger in an airport restroom.  I mean, she was in Caligula, so I'm guessing it's a safe bet that Helen would be all-in as our host.  We could get her off that idiotic When Nature Calls (no thanks, Uncle Walt).
So, a husband and wife or a husband and husband or a wife and wife or whatever combo of "committed" couple arrives at A) A fancy-schmancy manse or B) A tropical island or C) A ski chalet or...well, actually, we could change it up every week; but I bet the Playboy mansion is available! 

So, our couple arrives.  Let's call them "Bill" and "Jane" for simplicity's sake.  Bill has picked Lori Laughlin, Susan Dey and Maggie Q.  Jane's "celebrity pass" consists of Tony Danza, David Muir and Shemar Moore.  This does not necessarily mean they will encounter their celebrity pass.  You see, the problem is that most people would probably pick super A-list movie stars, like say, Channing Tatum.  Well, Channing is probably not going to be on Celebrity Love Pass, for a variety of reasons; not least of which is that he's too busy being a movie star and that he could probably have any super-hot person on the planet, of his choice, anytime or anywhere!  He's not going to need to indulge the fantasy of some housewife from Poughkeepsie.  Sorry "Jane."

Since I don't want to offend any current celebrities by putting them on "lists,"  I am going to use celebrities from back in the day as my pool of randy panelists.  For example, when I was explaining this contest to my husband I may have mentioned that a certain male celebrity with a really hard to spell last name was my "pass."  "Boy," he said, "that name was certainly on the tip of your tongue."  His "pass" is Willem Dafoe, btw.  "The way he is now?" I cried.  "Well," he replied, "I certainly can't have him the way he was then."  Good point.  Full disclosure: I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers.  Willem, I mean.  And my husband, I guess.
So, let's see...my choices would include Cary Grant (whose wouldn't?).  Roman Navarro.  And Steve McQueen, for starters.  Steve looks like he would've been a lot of fun between the sheets.  And fragrant.

​So, let's go with "B-list" and below stars of yesteryear.  So, Bill's picks are: Jane Blythe, Gloria Grahame, Lena Horne, Anna Mae Wong, Billie Burke and Jayne Mansfield.  Jane's picks are: Fred MacMurray, Clint Walker, Farley Granger, Rory Calhoun, Greg Morris and Sessue Hayakawa.

So, the couples arrive at the chateau (or whatever) and they split up.  Bill goes to the East Wing and Jane goes to the West wing; both with their "passes."  Unfortunately, the purist form of celebrity lust has been somewhat diluted due to the fact that both Bill and Jane have had to choose from a pool of celebrities that were vetted for "willingness" and "randiness."  The odds would be slim, at best; that any of the celebrities they have to choose from were "first picks."  But then, who wouldn't want to do Jayne Mansfield or Clint Walker?  Or Fred MacMurray for that matter?

On the first night of the competition, there is a formal soiree, hosted by Helen Mirren.  It's a meet and greet to see if any sparks fly between the contestants or the panelists.  Or the panelists and the panelists.  You see, a la Big Brother, every room is wired for sound and camera ready: so, say, Clint Walker and Rory Calhoun, say, hit it off it's all on camera!  Horny yet?
Or perhaps we could have three couples.  Not just Jane and Bill; but Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice and Mary and Gary.  You know, up the competition factor.  Like Bill and Bob and Ted and Gary are all trying to land Jayne Mansfield (or whoever).  So, now we set up "meet-cute" contests with an emphasis on cooking.  Like, say, Jane lands a "date" with Fred MacMurray and they have to make a cake together from scratch; as do Alice and Rory and Mary and Sessue.  But that cake better be kick-ass; because Helen and guest celebrity judges (Martha Stewart, Rachel Ray, Gordon Ramsay) are calling the shots.  Not just about the desserts; but about who gets to go with who on the next date.  And, the judges can pre-empt decisions and decide to go on "dates" with whoever they want.  Like, say, Gordon might decide he wants to "bake a cake" with Jane and she has to roll in the flour or be disqualified.  And so on and so on...until, ultimately each couple has whittled down their choices to their final pick; upon which they bestow a bowl of green M&M's (product tie-in).  So, let's say our first couple Jane and Bill end up with Gloria Grahame for Bill and Greg Morris for Jane.  Cue the APPLAUSE sign!  But wait, not so fast.  A bomb is dropped on our contestants.  They can only win the Grand Prize of $1,000,000.00 if they agree to allow their night of passion with their celebrity pass to be filmed and made available to the public.  Sort of a semi-celebrity sex tape.

Exciting huh?
And if you could tell me how this concept could be any more insane than any show that happens to air or has been aired already; I'd love to hear it.  Because, let's face it...celebrity is a pretty open-ended term nowadays.  Anyone can be a celebrity; anyone who's willing to unabashedly and unashamedly air their dirty laundry and flash their junk climbing out of a Kia hatch-back.  I mean...how else do you explain Mama June?

So, I was getting feedback from my hubs on this concept.  I asked him what he would do if he were to produce a show along this theme.  His take was decidedly more "wham, bam, thank you Ma'am and/or Sam."  He would pattern the show on the classic Match Game.  The couple come out together.  Jane has her picks on the top row.  Bill has his picks on the bottom row.  Questions along the lines of: "Slutty Sally was so slutty, she thought that Bilbo Baggins was named after a *BLANK*"

And then the winner gets to go backstage to the "pink room" where their seven minutes in heaven is recorded for posterity.  The syndicated version is pixelated and bleeped; but the Showtime After Dark version shows you everything.
Viewer Discretion is Advised!  I mean, do you really want to see the back of Clint Walker's scrotum?  Maybe you do.  But be careful what you wish for, right?

CFR 2/4/22

Ah, Sketch Comedy!  Those short theatrical delights that light up our Saturday nights.  
I grew up in the 70's; and speaking of Saturday nights...I had The Carol Burnett Show and Saturday Night Live to look forward to.  Both of them from 1975 to 1977!  Totally different styles; but hey, funny is funny.  A laugh is a laugh.  Looking back at reruns as an adult, The Carol Burnett Show is a little too shrill and SNL tends to date really fast.  But they're both beloved; by moi anyways.  Speaking of dated: Laugh-In.  Even the title, which is a pun on "Love-In."  When was the last time you went to a "Love-In"? (Look it up whipper-snappers).  Laugh-In wasn't even really a sketch show.  It was more of a "bit" show.  Like, one-liners.  Sometimes, one worders.  It's so dated now that's it's pretty much unwatchable.  This kind of sums it up:

I mean, I loved it when I was at Lynnhurst Elementary; but you outgrow it.  You absolutely outgrow it.
Topical comedy withers on the vine pretty fast.  And Laugh-In probably suffers the worst.  I defy you to sit down and watch an entire episode. I love a lot of the people who came out of the show; but it's so insufferably Hip.  It's Hipper Than Thou. Unless you're high.  Maybe you have to be high to enjoy Laugh-In.  Now.  And Then!  And it ran for five years!  Laugh-In is where Lorne Michaels got his start.  Well, we've all got to start somewhere.

So, this inaugural sketch is going to be a spoof of the old Calgon Bubble Bath commercial.  Considered a classic, it's slogan has become part of the American lexicon: "Calgon, Take Me Away!"  but in case you missed it; here' one of the original spots:

Well, Russia just invaded the Ukraine.  Is a bubble bath commercial parody really what I should be doing right now?
Or is a bubble bath commercial parody exactly what I should be doing right now?  I don't know.  I can't fix the world; but maybe I can make someone laugh; and to me, that's important.  So here goes:

Lady Bubbles Bath Beads Spot #1

A WOMAN, 30ish, dressed in a classic business suit with her hair in a French Twist is standing in her living room.  We'll call her MS. AMERICAN.  She sits on the sofa, places her briefcase on the coffee table and the phone starts RINGING loudly.  It's a French style phone with the shrill ring of that country's telephonic devices.

MS. AMERICAN
The phone! (She gets up and answers it).  Hello?  No, I don't want an extended warranty.  Don't call here again!

A GREAT DANE trots into the room and goes straight to the briefcase and carries it off, scattering papers everywhere.  MS. AMERICAN slams the phone down. 

MS. AMERICAN
The dog!  (She chases after the dog as a LITTLE BOY wanders in and proceeds to pee in a potted palm.  MS. AMERICAN goes to the child and then looks into the camera)  The kids!  (The DOORBELL rings).  The doorbell!!!  She goes to the door and looks through the peep-hole.  ELLEN DEGENERES is on the other side.

MS. AMERICAN
(exasperated) Ellen!

The doorbell RINGS again.  

CUT TO:
The front porch.  VLADIMIR PUTIN keeps ringing the bell, then the knocker.  Ellen is sitting on the porch swing.

CUT TO: Living room
Ms. American peeps out window through the curtains.

MS. AMERICAN
Putin!

A MONTAGE of people at the door: RINGING, KNOCKING, peeking in the windows.  Ms. American calls out their names as she stumbles around the room, pulling at her hair and garments as the little boy CRIES and the dog BARKS and the phone RINGS:

​MS. AMERICAN
(SERIES OF SHOTS OF THE FOLLOWING):
The Proud Boys!  The Girl Scouts! The Jehovah's Witnesses!  That kid selling candy for a school fundraiser! Count Dracula! Count Blacula! Ted Bundy!  Joe Rogan! Godzilla! Rodan! Tucker (bleeping) Carlson!!!

Kim Kardashian!  Martin Short...I just can't deal with Martin Short's energy right now...
Queen Beatrix Former Queen of the Netherlands!!!  Logan Paul!  King Kong!!!

​(We see King Kong's eye at the window)

MS. AMERICAN
(Her rant continues):
Soupy Sales!  The cast of Grey's Anatomy!  AARON RODGERS! (We see Aaron Rodgers, smiling on the other side of the peep-hole)  Oh, wait...Aaron Rodgers...he's single again...(She fluffs her hair and throws open the door only to see Aaron and Kim Kardashian canoodling on the porch swing.  She slams the door shut and falls to her living room floor and begins pounding on it)  Why Aaron Rodgers, why?  Why! Why! Why!!!

The LITTLE BOY kneels down next to his mother, as does the dog.  The phone stops RINGING.

LITTLE BOY
Mommy, are you okay?

MS. AMERICAN
(Muttering, as we continue to cut to the following at the door) The Creature from the Black Lagoon...The Manson Family...Chuck Lorre...(she finally Peters out).

Ellen DeGeneres enters holding a box of LADY BUBBLES BUBBLING BATH BEADS.

LITTLE BOY
Who are you?

ELLEN
Beat it kid-

MS. AMERICAN
(Raises her head) Ellen...how did you get in here?

ELLEN
The bathroom window was open.

MS. AMERICAN
What do you want from me?

ELLEN
Looks like you could use a pick me up!

MS. AMERICAN
I'm having an off day...

ELLEN
Well, here's the answer to your problem: Lady Bubbles Bubbling Bath Beads, New and Improved with more Chloral Hydrate!  So, repeat after me: "Lady Bubbles, Take Me Away!"

MS. AMERICAN
(Mumbling) ...Lady Bubbles...take me...away...

​CUT TO:
An elaborate Grecian bathroom, with a sunken tub and a window with a view of the Eiffel Tower.  Ms. American is in the water, flowers in her hair, surrounded by drifts of bubbles.  She lazily strokes her legs and arms as we hear Ellen explain the product):

ELLEN
(VOICE OVER) Lady Bubbles infuses your bath with our proprietary blend of soothing sedatives.  As it softens the water, it softens your skin; facilitating the absorption of our patented blend of benzodiazepines and chlordiazepoxides, including Carfentanil, the very substance that's used to tranquilize elephants!

CUT TO:
The bathroom.  Ms. American is singing "My Old Kentucky Home"* in a slurred voice.  Ellen appears beside the tub with the dog on a leash.  She smiles and turns to the camera.

ELLEN
And of course, you get a whole range of scents with Lady Bubbles, including new Tahitian Titillation, Matthew McConaughey Essence and Gyllenhaalleluja!

The Little Boy wanders in and tugs at Ellen's jacket

LITTLE BOY
I want my mommy!

ELLEN
Mommy's busy! Now go away kid, you bother me!

The dog jumps into the tub.  Ms. American doesn't even seem to notice.

​ELLEN
(To Ms. American) Is there a husband in the picture?

CUT TO:
Close-up on product containers, surrounded by bubbles.  A butterfly lands on one of the boxes as a MALE ANNOUNCER reads slogan: "Lady Bubbles.  We'll take you so far away you won't want to come back!"

​MALE ANNOUNCER (EXTREMELY RAPIDLY): Lady Bubbles may cause dependency on Lady Bubbles.  It is advised not to bathe when using Lady Bubbles.  You should not eat for an hour before bathing in Lady Bubbles.  Ask your doctor if your epiglottis is healthy enough to bathe with Lady Bubbles.  Do not operate heavy equipment when using Lady Bubbles.  If there is no life-guard on duty, Lady Bubble at your own risk!

Kim and Aaron wander into the bathroom.  Kim in a robe.  Aaron, a towel around his waist.

KIM K.
Is this the after parrrrrrrrrrrtee?

*So, my husband inquired as to why I was researching "My Old Kentucky Home," and I explained that I wanted a sedated housewife to be singing something utterly absurd.  He informed me the song could be construed as rascist.  That was not my intent--I just wanted absurdity--so, might I regroup and suggest some inane pop song from the 70's?  How about this one:

So, I just watched Season 8, Episode 7 of your show: "Sneakers by the Dozen."
Great episode.  Really funny!
No, wait, not so great.  You turned Dre into a felonious thief.  And not only that, a framer.  You single-handedly destroyed the legacy of your show in under five minutes.
Politics aside; stealing a $15,000.00 pair of shoes is simply not funny.  You better start filming a VERY SPECIAL EPISODE where Dre returns the shoes, quick.  I don't think hilarity will ensue; but maybe some ironic chuckles?
I'm hoping this plot-line is part of a story-arch.  But I fear it's not.  
That's all I have to say.
Sincerely,
Chris Reidy

Gee, thanks Army Archerd.
Actually, I still think a movie musical of 'Jaws' could be pulled off; but I'm not gonna be the one to do it.  I mean, I was having fun working on the screenplay, which I posted on another blog entry.  I did write a little more of it.  I got through Chrissie's death and then the introduction of the Brodys.  But, once again, I was distracting myself with a chimera rather than working on my own stuff.  
So, here's as far as I got.  And I still think it's pretty good.

Okay, I've had it.  No more Mr. Nice Guy.  The gloves are coming off for this one.  This one is war.  Total WAR!  And once I've vented, the gloves will go back on again.  But right now I'm taking names and counting heads.  I'm kicking ass and breaking skulls.  I'm naming names and--
Okay, I'm not naming names; but you know who you are.

And I dare you, Uncle Walt, to tell me to take down this unauthorized picture of one of your copyrighted, TM'd, Pat-Pending, All Rights Reserved, Should Be in the Public Domain But Isn't, characters.  Go ahead, send me a cease and desist letter.  I'll happily put it on my blog!

Okay, so it's tomorrow; and I've counted to ten and I'm much calmer.  That being said, I'm still calling out ABC TV.  What am I calling them out about?  Oh, I think we all know...
So, the other night I'm watching Abbott Elementary, which I've been watching from the start.  It's fine.  Although I'm a little tired of the "workplace" sit-coms that are styled like The Office.  Like, who exactly are the characters talking to when they speak directly to the camera with commentary and so forth?  The Office wrung a whole season out of the premise of the making of the documentary of "The Office," when prior to that, there was no way a documentary crew could've been privy to most of what they'd filmed.  It was brilliant.  My husband really likes Abbott Elementary. I could take it or leave it; but I will say all the actors are great on it.

So, here's my beef, Chief...
On the episode of the show, Season 1, Episode 7 - "Art Teacher," two of the teachers (Barbara and Jacob) decide to start a school garden but are clueless about how to do it.  Meanwhile, one of the other teachers (Gregory) observes them with disdain; as, it turns out, he grew up with a Dad who was a gardener so he's more or less an expert green-thumb.  He sneaks around behind Barbara and Jacob and tends to the garden, which of course, is lush and yielding.

If you're following along at home, then you've probably read the pilot script I wrote for a sitcom: Cheeseheads.  Gee whiz, guess what?  Cheeseheads is set in and around...you guessed it...a nursery.  Coincidence?  You tell me, ABC.

And, huh, that bag of manure has the same colors as the Green Bay Packers.  Now, surely, that is mere coincidence.  Or is it...?
Now, when I bring up all these "coincidences" to my husband, they're usually met with more than a few grains of salt and a decidedly "devil's advocate" stance.  The other day we were on a walk and I laughed to myself.  He asked me what was so amusing.  I told him about my suspicions, re: the Abbott Elementary "coincidence."  We had watched the show together.  Now he had a knowing little grin.  "Yeah," I said, "I'm right; and you're involved in this too now because the garden store was your idea." Which it was, as he had supplied me with a list of occupations for the characters on Cheeseheads.  So you owe him a paycheck too, Uncle Walt.

I might as well throw in this one too.  So, I watch General Hospital but I've fallen behind.  I'm currently up to Christmas of 2021.  One of the characters on the show, Curtis Ashford (played by the stunningly beautiful Donnell Turner...somebody put him on Prime Time please and I'm already writing an episode of Cheeseheads for him.  He'll play a Packer, natch.  Or even better, the high school football coach everyone lusts after!) a former private eye and now night-club impresario, has had his long lost father turn up.  Guess what?  This long lost father is a musician.  And guess what he plays?  The clarinet.  You may recall in my blog "What's Your Sign Baby?" that I went on at length about the clarinet; even featuring a photo of a clarinet case.  Who knew you had to put it together.  I didn't.  I would've thought it was one piece and would have a long cylindrical case.

So then Marshall the Musician turns up at General Hospital where he runs into Epiphany Johnson, Singing Head Nurse.  He's carrying a case, which she immediately recognizes as a clarinet case.  Hmmmmmm.  Maybe.  I mean, she is a singer; but I've never seen her with a jazz quartet before...

Okay, that's a jazz trio. But the point is: General Hospital is an ABC (thus Disney) show.  Do like, all the TV shows at ABC share a common writer's room and have a lap-top on the table opened to my blog?  Is it also coincidence that the actor who plays Gregory on Abbott Elementary was Chris on Everybody Hates Chris?  Maybe we need a new show, ABC.  We can call it: Everybody Loves Chris.  You clearly love my work.  So give me a show.  I'll even write and star in it for you!  You will have to pay me though.  No more freebies.  I'm putting my foot down this time.
So, here's my application:

Oh, and just in case you need this, Uncle Walt:

So there.  I'm done for now.  I will speak no more on this until I speak more on this.  Because I'm just as tired talking about it as you are, probably, hearing about it.
Love You!
Mean it!
S.W.A.K. (on my ass).
(Oh crap, I just realized I mis-dated my application.  Oh well).

Well, it should be memory plural; because this is about my personal memories of Diahann Carroll.  Diahann Carroll was a Big Deal in the late 1960's.  Her sit-com Julia premiered in 1968, and though I was only three years-old at the time, I remember what a Big Deal it really was.

My sister is a year older than me, more or less, so when Julia hit the airwaves, she was four.  The show ran until March of 1971, so she was like 5, 6, 7ish during its run.  So she was old enough to want a "Julia" doll.  And want it she did!  The show had quite a bit of merchandising at the time.  Paper dolls, coloring books, Colorforms (look it up Gen Zers...or is it Gen Alpha now?  I'm Gen X myself and I can't wait for the day some punk says to me: "Okay Xer"!); and there was even a lunch box.  But the ne plus ultra of the merch, was the doll.  There were two.  One was Julia in her nursing outfit and the other was "Talking Julia," who was dressed to the nines in a gold and silver lame jump-suit.

The Julia doll was from Mattel Toys; so that meant Barbie's clothes would fit her (and Barbie could borrow Julia's jump-suit; you know for cocktails with Ken; or glamourous sky-diving!).  I vividly remember the arrival of Julia in our home.  It was Kate's birthday (early September) and my Dad, who had been out of town (probably at Camp LeJeune) arrived that evening with the doll.  I don't recall if he just showed up with it or if my sister had specifically requested a Julia doll (I think the latter is the case) but when that paper came off, the excitement was palpable!  I was probably more entranced by the doll than my sister was.  I remember staring in awe at Julia as she glimmered in her metallic fabric on the other side of the plastic.  And, drum-roll please...She TALKED!
Honestly though, I don't remember what it was that she said.  Actually, I don't recall her talking at all; but that is definitely the doll.  Maybe there was a non-talking version that came in the jump-suit.  
So, I did a little research.  The only version in the lame jump-suit (that's "lah-may"!  I don't know how to put accents on this blog; and we all know there was nothing "lame" about Miss Carroll!) was the talking version.  I found some recordings of what the doll said, in Miss Carroll's voice.  Things along the lines of "Nursing is great fun!" and "What should I wear on my show?" and "Hi, my name is Julia!" and "Do you want to be an actress?"  That last one rang a very distant bell and I remembered the voice.  I always thought my sister should be an actress.  She was quite dramatic (in a good way).  I still think she should.  Also, my answer to Julia's acting query was "yes."  I mean, in wanting to act.  I've played a woman on stage; and it's a bitch!
When I think back on this, a few things kind of amaze me.  My parents both grew up in Charlestown, Massachusetts.  It's really a neighborhood of Boston proper.  It's where the Bunker Hill monument is:

Incidentally, those town-houses and apartments are now worth millions of dollars.  They were decidedly not when my parents gamboled on these streets.  Charlestown was predominantly working class Irish at least into the 70's.  You may recall the "forced busing" era in Boston in the 70's.  One of the hot-spots of "anti-busing" was Charlestown.  To say Charlestown was racially intolerant would be decidedly underplaying it.  To be blunt, the Boston Irish were pretty much racists.  This is the background my parents were raised in.  And yet, here they were in the late 60's, purchasing a Black fashion doll for their five-year-old daughter.  And I also received for my fifth birthday, no questions asked, a Ken doll.  Charlestown wasn't exactly a bastion for alternative lifestyles, either.  Were my parents progressive?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  What my parents were, was kind.
I often wonder about the procuring of the doll by my father.  Like, did he go into the PX at Camp LeJeune in North Carolina (not exactly a bastion of racial equality in 1968) and go to the toy department and find the Julia doll?  Was he confronted with both versions of the doll (the second in her nursing outfit) and had to choose?  And if he did, why did he choose the one that he did?  Because she could talk?  Because he liked her jumpsuit?  Or did he grab the first one he saw that said "Julia"?  Or, did he ask the sales-clerk to help him find the doll?  And if that was the case, what did he or she think?  Here was this good looking, macho white man in fatigues asking for a Black 11 inch fashion doll.

​My dad was (is) quite the character.  He's an Aries; which means it's all about him.  I'll be writing about him in another blog, complete with pictures.  He was like a movie star, with the looks and personality to match.  He was a macho Marine; but he was also into like, musical theater.  He loved "Geraldine," Flip Wilson's female alter-ego.

Looking back on this clip; it's rather amazing at how truly transgressive Flip Wilson was.  He's not just doing drag, he's playing a woman.  But he's also playing a man, playing a woman so that he can unapologetically flirt with another man. Also a Sagittarius!  My dad would actually do imitations of Geraldine.  I sometimes wonder if my dad is a gay man trapped in a straight man's body.  My dad would've eagerly sat down to watch Diahann Carroll on a TV special (remember in the 70's when they were always airing "Specials"?).  Like maybe this for instance:

Why is she dressed 20's style and singing a late 60's show-tune?  Who knows...it was the 70's man!
You know, when I think back on my Dad who grew up in an atmosphere of total bigotry and was in the Marine Corps with a lot of rough guys; I can't recall him ever having an unkind word for any other race or creed or anyone in any minority.  My mom had her moments.  Her section of Charlestown was a little tougher than my dad's.  Back in the days of R & B and disco, when one of those songs would come on in the car on the radio; she sometimes said some unkind comments about the musical stylings.  From the backseat, we kids would berate her.  "Mom," we'd cry, "that's racist!!!"  Remember this was the 70's; like where did me and my siblings get our tolerant views?  "Mom, that's so racist!"  Don't misunderstand me.  My mom is one of the sweetest, most loving people you'd ever meet.  Her comments about the music were merely conditioning.  One day, after our cries of racism, my mother turned off the radio and regarded us in the rear-view mirror.  "Maybe I am a racist..." she said quietly.  She never made those comments again.
As important and ground-breaking a show as Julia was, it wasn't really a "kids" show; despite the toys and the lunch boxes and the paper-dolls.  I recall it being rather somber, and for a child, frankly kind of boring.  It's never really gone into re-runs with any kind of regularity.  It never became beloved.  That doesn't mean it wasn't good or important.  Perhaps it was trying too hard to be important.  Its caution sapped the fun factor.  Or maybe not.  I'm relying on my six-year-old memory.  I haven't seen the show since its original run.
Diahann didn't pop up again in my life (besides the occasional "Special") until she turned up on Dynasty in 1984.  At the time, she was doing a lot of pre-publicity on shows like Entertainment Tonight; where she proclaimed, directly into the camera: "I'm going to be the first black bitch on television!"  At the time, TV was obsessed with "bitches." Female characters who were white, wealthy, entitled, scheming and ruthless.  "The women you love to hate!" the media proclaimed. 
Now, if Diahann had meant that she was going to be something more along the lines of a bad-ass-black-bitch; she'd already been beaten to the punch by Teresa Graves as Christie Love on Get Christie Love!

In any event, it was a decidedly un-Julia like thing to say.
When she did turn up on Dynasty as Dominique Deveraux, she was more, I'd say, calculating than "bitchy."  And she played it straight; as opposed to Joan Collins who camped it up as far as she could.  "Playing it straight," was for me, kind of boring.  I was losing interest in the show by the time she came on.  Here's her Big Entrance:

But, as far as being the first Prime Time Soap Opera Bitch who was Black; she claims the title.  
Here's to Miss Diahann Carroll.  Cool as a cucumber.
Glamourous Groundbreaker.
​And I so wish I had that doll.

​Here she is talking about how she got involved with Dynasty​:

Ciao...for now.
​CFR 2/18/22

How about a Joni Mitchell sing-a-long?  Sounds good to me!

I happened upon an episode of I Dream of Jeannie late last night. It was from season 2.  Episode 31(!) (This was back when a TV show gave you a TV show).  It was entitled "The Mod Party" and it aired in April of 1967.  Boy was it stupid.  Moronic.  Immature.  Silly.  Beyond silly.  And boy was it delightful.  I laughed out loud several times. I can't seem to post it here, but you can find it quite easily online.
It's a rather involved 22 minutes.  Major Nelson's friend Major Healy has friends visiting from out of town.  He's planning on throwing a "mod party"; to which he invites Major Nelson (Tony) and Jeannie (she's a genie...but surely you know this...).  Anyways, Dr. Bellows (the psychiatrist at NASA) thinks Tony and Major Healy (Roger) need to go on a hunting trip or something and they lie to get out of it.  Meanwhile, Jeannie goes to a boutique to buy a "mod outfit."  Now, this begs several questions.  Like, in the late 60's, when the "mod" thing was happening; did it just happen or was it such an instant fad that people referred to it self-reflexively?  Like, back in the disco era, people didn't say: "I'm going to a disco party."  You just went to a party and the music was disco.  Also, why does Jeannie need to buy an outfit when she can just "blink" one into existence?
(I just rewatched it and I must've missed the beginning.  Tony insists Jeannie go to a store to get her "mod" outfit, as the party is mostly about what everyone's wearing and he doesn't want Jeannie to look out of place...which doesn't really make sense; but it's the only way the writer can get her somewhere where Mrs. Bellows can eavesdrop.​)

The plot thickens: at the boutique, Jeannie is overheard by Mrs. Bellows (Emmaline Henry: see top photo) talking about the plans for the party.  Later that night, she drags her husband there to prove to him that Tony and Roger are not out hunting.  Tony spots Dr. Bellows and tells Jeannie to put him and Roger in hunting clothes; which she does, except they end up in togas with bows and arrows.  Then, Dr. Bellows insists they go hunting and drives them out to the woods with their ancient hunting gear.  It starts raining and the boys try to set up a tent.  Slapstick and some actual (albeit minor) hilarity ensues (and an eyeful of Larry Hagman's equally delightful rear end (he gets tangled up in the tent, and then well...just watch it).  It all ends well when Roger and Tony return to the party with a beautiful doe they've caught. And then they do The Frug.  I'm not making this up.
What struck me about the show was how game the players were to participate in the silliness.  Even or perhaps especially, Larry Hagman.  By all accounts he was unhappy on the show and battling addictions to several substances; particularly alcohol.  So how does he come across so delightfully on the show?  Perhaps it was doing the silly slap-stick that was the show's stock-in-trade.  It was goofy, sloppy slap-stick.  Slap stick needs to be razor sharp and done with panache.  I Dream of Jeannie didn't quite pull it off; but it didn't keep them from trying.  Occasionally they succeeded.  Maybe it was doing this type of comedy that kept Larry's mind off of his problems.

I don't know if the above clip is a case of them succeeding or not; but it makes me laugh out loud.  I wish the show didn't have a laugh track.  It would be even funnier. And can you imagine producing thirty plus episodes of a show?  They must've had cots on the sound-stage!
One of the funniest people on the show was the unsung Emmaline Henry.  As I mentioned, she played Amanda Bellows.  She epitomized the 1960's bourgeoise wife.  And she did it with just the right amount of everything.  Dry and detached but also warm and somehow wacky.  Her facial expressions were sublime.  And devine.

Not to be crude; but she's a total MILF.  I'm gay and I'd like to MILF her!  No, that is crude.  But you get what I'm saying.  In her own way she's just as sexy as Jeannie.  Maybe because she's funny.  Pretty women have a tendency to not be funny.  It's pretty rare to find a woman who is beautiful and funny.  Why?  Because beautiful people generally get a pass in life and don't have to come up with alternatives.  Like making people laugh.  Emmaline was taken from us too soon.  She died of a brain tumor in 1979.  Her scenes with her husband, played by the undeniably gay Hayden Rorke were magic.  In fact, all her scenes with any other person on the show were magic.  She has chemistry with everyone.  She doesn't try to hog scenes.  She brings out the best in her colleagues.  And btw, in the above scene, don't you love that Mrs. Bellows has no questions about the outfit Jeannie is actually wearing?  Oh wait, she does...

I love Bewitched but I think I might like I Dream of Jeannie better.  Why?  Well, because Tony seems to enjoy Jeannie's antics more than he might admit.  Darren Stephens on Bewitched was kind of a buzz-kill.
Switching genres but remaining with the fantastical...that brings us to Gilligan's Island and it's MILF, Mrs. Lovey Howell, played delightfully by Natalie Schafer.  Actually, she's more of a GILF.  Okay, that's the last time I'll mention any "ILFS."

Like Emmaline, Natalie managed to bring class and sophistication (genuine) to the goings-on of what is indeed as silly and moronic as any other fantasy sit-com from the 1960's.  But Jeannie and Gilligan have really stood the test of time, haven't they?  Bewitched too. And, in my humble opinion, they are all funny (to varying degrees). How many things did (and do) kids learn from Gilligan's Island.  I know it taught me about movie-making, psychology, stage adaptations, the properties of certain vegetables, Pacific Island culture (sort of), musical theater, science (sort of), voo-doo, taboos, acting techniques, silent movies, the avant-garde and necessity being the mother of invention... 
Okay, maybe it didn't "teach" me those things; but it certainly sparked an interest.  Remember that time when the castaways found a trunk full of silent movie equipment and they made a film to tell the world their story and then sent it off on a raft, where it was discovered and then hailed as an avant-garde film-making masterpiece by an unknown director?

You know, rewatching it, I think that episode may very well have been the impetus in my subconscious to go to film school.  A major life decision that set my life's course on a certain path.  My life, influenced by an episode of Gilligan's Island?  Maybe so.  Everything's connected.
So, thank you Emmaline and Natalie; for all the laughs, the glamour and the entertainment.  Because those little people inside the TV set were our friends, weren't they?  They kept us company after school and on those late nights when you couldn't fall asleep.  It's true.  Didn't the folks at Dunder-Mifflin kind of get most of us through the pandemic? Or the gang at Central Perk?  Or Mrs. Bellows and Mrs. Howell?  You bet they did!
And why haven't Gilligan and Jeannie, two of the most popular sitcoms of all time, not been given the Big Screen treatment?  Remember when they were remaking everything?  Like, even Car 54 got a movie.  Is it because Nora Ephron put the kibosh on the trend with her abysmal cinematic take on Bewitched?  Sorry Nicole; but even you couldn't save that hot mess of celluloid.  And please, whoever attempts movie versions of Jeannie and Gilligan: don't do meta.  Those properties don't need meta.  They need bettah!

Also, here's a fascinating interview with Natalie Schafer; the only one I've ever seen her do.  It's with Skip E. Lowe who I think may have been the inspiration for Martin Short's "Jiminy Glick" persona: