Long live the Spring!

Spring has officially arrived here in upstate NY. We had a very dicey April, with some nagging snowfalls and sagging temperatures. Until about one week ago, the trees were bare. However, since we lost nearly two full months from the '06-'07 ski season back around the New Year, we had to expect winter to hang on longer than usual.
Now, suddenly, our trees are filled with verdant leaves and all sorts of fabulous blossoms in shades from white to blood-red. All the flowers are blooming at once, racing to beat the freshly-sprouted weeds (which are growing faster than I can yank them out).

We have visitors now, unfortunately. When the snow finally melted I grabbed my leaf-rake and set out to rid our garden of last fall's crop of leaves, which I'd left throughout the garden as cover. As I swept the leaves out from among the plants, one of my three miserable rose bushes came along, too! You could have fit what was left of the rootball into a trial-size spice cannister. The culprit? Voles! I learned this by running a Google® search, of course. These voracious critters love all sorts of plant roots and bulbs, but especially favor tulips and roses. Though they are called garden voles, they seem to be a mouse of one sort or another. And there are a lot of them! They burrow into the ground via holes the size of golf balls, and leave ugly furrows just beneath the surface--easily spotted since the ground collapses into them.

How does one rid one's garden of these pernicious beasts? I haven't answered that question yet, but not for lack of effort. Being the sort who likes easy solutions, I tried "smoke bombs" first: they seemed the simplest and most devastating method. They also seemed to work, at first. I was easily deceived, and didn't hear the little monsters laughing at me there in their secret underground lairs. Oh, I'm sure a few of their valiant soldiers died in the struggle. Their funerals were well-attended, no doubt. The survivors have vowed to plow up every inch of my assorted gardens, to gobble every remaining bulb and root, and to colonize any previously unmolested sanctuary. They trip my silly mousetraps, and shun my delectable poison bait-packs. They do, however, very much approve of the lovely mulch I spread for them; they shuffle it all around to suit their needs each day. If I had a gun, and it was legal to use it here in the suburbs, I'd give it a shot. I've never actually seen one of these animals doing their dirty-work, so I can't imagine how I'd ever get a chance to snipe at them. If my cat was brave enough to go outdoors, and if she had any front claws, perhaps she could help in the war. I haven't thought of anything else that might work.

I'll continue the battle, but I won't utter any further complaint about the arrival of Spring. We had a long and odd winter, with only a single ski outing and just a few trips to our nearby sledding hill. Now the chill is gone from the air, and the threat of post-season snowfalls has passed. Spring here in western New York is notoriously short, and has to be savored whole-heartedly. The symphony of dozens of lawn-mowers fills the air, while gorgeous blossoming trees brighten every street. Nearly all the good TV shows have fired their final salvoes: it's time to get outside and enjoy our world. Summer will be here soon enough, with another dreary winter only moments behind it. What's not to love?

A digital prediction

We spent the afternoon today configuring our new wireless router. Can you think of anything more fun and entertaining than that? It certainly was a learning experience. My wife spent the previous night on hold with a revolving batch of tech-support people (for the cable provider) trying to troubleshoot our old router. None of them had a clue. We figured it out, step by step, with a dash of trial-and-error. I'm online now, so I can prove we succeeded, can't I?

All this wireless and digital stuff is tricky, though, no matter how persistent you are. You have to keep turning things off, unplugging cables, resetting switches, and trying all sorts of unlikely combinations. When our other router died (at least, we think it's dead), all its little green lights still worked just fine. The only hint we had that it was kaput was the fact that it, well, it didn't work. That was our first and only indication. Back in the olden days, when the TV was on the fritz (what the heck's a fritz, anyway??), you knew something important was busted. Somewhere inside the old beast would be a dead rat, or a fried tube, or a burned-out connection. You could smell it! There weren't any silly little green glowing lights trying to trick us into believing the television might still be OK. Either the guy at the repair shop could fix it, or it was time to toss the thing into a dumpster. All these fancy new electronic devices fail with mystery and intrigue, sometimes right out of the box--or other times after months of perfect performance. They don't give you any warning: no sudden flashes or crackles, no weird oily electricky smells, and not even the satisfaction of a dead picture tube. Instead we get "error messages." How droll!

You've all seen the cute emails with titles like "If Bill Gates made Automobiles." At one time or another, we've all been thankful that our TV's don't have to be rebooted or scanned for viruses and Trojans. (Well, I hope there aren't any Trojans inside the TV, anyway!) They are working on making televisions more digital and troublesome, however. Don't worry about that. We haven't even figured out how to program the VCR's that are already obsolete. Funny thing is, those older VCR's weren't really all that complicated. They had lots of buttons to push, and all sorts of menu's to navigate, that's all. The new generation of electronic entertainment crap is all run by software and "set-up wizards," which sounds a little scary to me. If you've replaced your "obsolete" cell-phone lately, you've seen first-hand how complicated a simple device can get. Pass the Bluetooth, will ya please? Take a minute, and go customize the noise your phone makes when you flip it open--that's important!

I am a little discouraged by the level of techno-savvy one has to have these days just to deal with things we now consider ordinary. But I don't actually want to rant about all that, and sound like some befuddled curmudgeon gorging on sour grapes. Playing with all these high-tech toys is fun, and I'm not that old. If you think about it, though, our current electronic economy feels like it's being guided by the geekiest kids you ever knew in high school, with unlimited budgets. Oh, wait, it is! Our "toys" do things we don't even know about--things we don't understand at all. We're so far beyond "hmmm, I wonder how they get sound and pictures to go through the air and into my teevee..." that it's not really even funny to say so. Some of the far-future ideas that wowed us in early Star Trek episodes look quaint today by comparison. Remember when we thought it was so cool that the doors opened automatically for Scotty and Captain Kirk? I'll bet when those fancy doors broke they could fix them!

Where's it all going, anyway? That's what I started out to talk about, a couple hundred words ago. It's much too easy to complain; let's speculate instead! Right now we've got our PC's, our wireless networks, our HDTV (and HD radio, too!), wxyz-compliant cell-phones, multi-function MP3 players, talking cars with bluetooth, and GPS for everyone. That's one big sh**load of acronyms and tons of fun for everyone! Quick, how many remotes do you own? Four? Six? Want to bet it's closer to ten? Take a second, think about it, count them, and see. Still got your old cell-phone sitting in a drawer somewhere? (I checked, we have three! Isn't there some charity that needs them??) How many different radios do you have lying around? (More than ten, here.) Got any non-HD-ready televisions left? (The end is near!) It's all headed somewhere very different, I believe, despite the obvious level of HDD displayed by the rich geeky guys like Steve and Bill G. There's some kind of critical mass building on the electronics horizon.

What we have now will all emerge in wild and unpredictable ways in the near future. Here's what I see in my somewhat murky crystal ball: First, the whole issue of remote-controls will boil down to just two. One will be the truly "universal" remote that controls your television, video-recorder, media-player, tabletop radio--whatever. Most of the buttons will be gone; you'll control it with simple voice commands like "record Law & Order QRSTUV" or "play music." (This one's already in the works, so that forecast is pretty reliable. The price has to come down about forty thousand dollars, however.) Your other remote will open and close the garage door, unlock your car doors, and still have that red button you can hit accidentally to summon help in supermarket parking lots. That one will probably have an MP3 player built-in, but just as a back-up to the one in your cell-phone.

All the parts and pieces will come together, of course. CD's will be only a fond memory soon enough (fact, not prediction). Digital-video recording on simple flash-type memory devices will replace every DVD, Blue-ray or otherwise. Expect to toss all those other components in the trash one day: VCR, DVD-player, stereo-tuner, portable CD-player (already almost gone), etc. One box will accept broadband TV and Internet, as well as provide for digital time-shifting like we get now via TiVo or DVR. That "box" could reside inside whatever becomes of our beloved boxy PC's and notebooks. Our high-def video "monitors" ("screens"?) will be wherever we want them, about one inch thick, as big as we can afford (or desire to afford), and receive their input signals wirelessly from the box I mentioned earlier. You already know you will be able to get whatever signal you want to see or hear on your mobile phone; the only question is how much will that cost? ("OK, you got yer Family-Media Plan for $79 a month, plus the usual surcharges, taxes, fees, and applicable limitations...")

The fact is, these changes will happen soon and we won't be surprised or impressed anymore. We've already seen that you can do damn-near anything with electronics, and make it as small as is acceptable or useful. Most of what we're futzing around with right now are simply old ideas morphing into their new forms. We're all very busy stomping out the figurative bugs created by the transition--bugs in the software, the hardware, and in our ability to accept and comprehend the new concepts. The soon-enough result doesn't require a crystal ball: everything except TV screens will be small, HD (or digital in whatever form), and ultimately portable. And wireless, of course. (Too bad for all those who make cables of various sorts, eventually.) There's no doubt at all that soon you will be able to make telephone calls, listen to music, surf the Internet, navigate to any destination, watch video media of all kinds, take moving and still photographs, consult your day-planner, unlock your car, and jump-start your malfunctioning heart--all with a single device the size of a Bic lighter or wristwatch. We're almost there right now. Two questions, though: What will it all cost? (per month, of course), and How often will it suffer fatal malfunctions?

Plain old "Looking Back"

What got us going the other night? I can't remember, exactly, but suddenly my wife and I were rambling aimlessly down memory lane. Though we grew up hundreds of miles apart, we found lots of common ground as we dredged up old images from our respective childhoods. Our kids have so many choices today, whether it's food or entertainment or shopping; our own experiences were much narrower. I'm sure that's why people our age, who grew up before cable television and video games, share so many similar memories.

We all watched the same shows, for one thing. Leave It to Beaver, The Flintstones, Gilligan's Island, Flipper, Gunsmoke--whatever was the hottest show on a given night, chosen from one of the three networks we had available on our dial: everybody knew the characters, even if they didn't always tune in. Most of us still know the words to the dippy theme songs, like the amazing saga of Jed Clampett. "Up from the ground came a bubblin' crude--oil, that is..." I could stop most any forty-something on the street tomorrow and quiz him or her about Gilligan's Island, and they'd know all the answers. "Oh, yeah, it was a three-hour tour." And so on. We can all look back now at the crap we watched every week, (even during the horrid summer re-run season!), and laugh about it now. We took our shows pretty seriously, though. What else did we have for free entertainment?

We played cards, that's for sure! And Monopoly, and even the game of Life. When we were kids, and feeling creative, we built amazing stuff with Lego bricks and pieces. Stuff we made up on our own, without following step-by-step instructions. All the boys stuck used playing cards to their bicycles with clothespins. Then we'd roar around the neighborhood and thrill to the realistic motor-sound that made. We worried that the cards might wear out our spokes and make the wheels collapse. On a warm summer Saturday night we'd grab flashlights and play flashlight tag, unless there was a really good Gunsmoke re-run on TV, of course.

Our parents took us to the Drive-In. We brought pillows, since we were sure to fall fast asleep during the second feature (the boring "grown-up" movie was always the later show). We never stopped at McDonald's for dinner before the movies; there weren't any McDonalds anywhere near us. Or Burger Kings, or Wendy's, or anything even close. Well, yeah, we did have Drive-In's--the other kind of drive-in, where you could order food right from your car. You could have a burger or a hot dog, a big basket of fries, and a root beer to drink. We weren't allowed to get dinner from the concession stands at the movie drive-ins, 'cause the prices in there were "sky-high," according to my dad. Last movie I saw with my kids, we paid five bucks for a medium-size soft drink. Dad was right!

As kids, the big special was to stop at "The Book Store" for a cherry Coke. Oh, man...cherry Coke--when it was mixed right there in front of you! The Book Store was a lot more than a place to buy books. Keep in mind, this is a two-aisle store with wooden floors and a glass humidor at the register. The Book Store had a slot on Main Street, conveniently on the way to school when we walked. To the right of the entrance was the kid-trap: thirty feet of candy racks. This was before every supermarket sold candy at the registers. We bought the big Smarties by the roll. I think they had things written on them, like "be mine," maybe inside a heart-shoped outline. Everything was a nickle, until it all went up to a dime. Then a quarter. That must have been over the whole course of my schooling, since I don't recall any big shock at the price increases. Seeing a little bag of M&M's selling now for damn near a dollar makes my head hurt.

Anyway, The Book Store had one of those wonderful stainless-steel fountain set-ups. You could order up a big old ice cream sundae or a rootbeer float, if you weren't in the mood for a cherry Coke. The stools were heavy, banded in steel and covered with hard red vinyl (of course? were all soda fountain stools like that? maybe.). It's tough to find a cooler memory from childhood than those few times Dad took us there for a sit-down soda. This place had cool toys, too. You know, the ones you don't want to buy for your kids today 'cause they'll break before the weekend. It was a big deal back then--capguns and those stupid paddles with the little red ball on a rubber band. There were lots of magazines, too. We kids didn't care about those, and we had no idea there were completely naked women pictures hidden in the top rows. I'll bet my Dad knew!

I do remember the big round clear-plastic display case of Matchbox cars that sat to the left of the cash register. You picked out the car you wanted by number, then Dick or Jim (the owners) would get you your Matchbox from under the counter. It came in a funny little cardboard box with no fancy graphics or window to show off what was inside. Before I had any idea about how much things cost, I thought the numbers in the display case were the prices of each model car. How weird is that? It's not like I was stupid or anything; I just had it figured wrong, I guess. Each car was sixty-nine cents, whatever the number of it. I bought one of each, over a period of years. Still got 'em around here somewhere, or my kids have 'em. Bet they'd be worth more than sixty-nine cents if I'd kept the crappy cardboard box and never took them out for play!

Thoughts for next time, or when I update this one: Fran's IGA, and Ogden Drug
No Wal-Marts or fast food restaurants
TV vs cable

Review: Other things I would change

I was a little rough on Jericho last week. That's only because I had high expectations for this new drama. This season offers more than just one new show to try, however. I found at least a couple of these that might end up winners, at least in my book. Followed by, of course, my own humble opinion regarding potential 'repairs.'

Monday night: In the middle of ESPN's still-rough football event, I've carved out a chunk of time to surf over to watch Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. I believe the entire crew from the recently-retired West Wing steers this wonderful Aaron Sorkin drama. On a ten-scale, it's a ten. What would I change? Very little. I'd lighten-up some of the low-light scenes. I mentioned this current fascination with darkness in my long review of Jericho. Maybe I'm getting old, but I do like to see who's doing what to whom. My only other nit-pick with Studio 60 concerns the busted love affair between Matthew Perry's character (head writer Matt) and his leading lady, Harriet (Sarah Paulsen). I know you gotta have conflict; that's a given. Let's not dwell, though-- 's all I'm saying.

Tuesday night: I'm a football fan. No shame in admitting that. So I'm psyched about Friday Night Lights. Loved the movie. I'll have to read the book, too. For the TV version, I've got the same small criticism about the over-use of ambient lighting (or the lack there-of). One big question in my mind: why, tell me why, didn't the network schedule this show on Friday nights?? No, that's not a stupid question! This show ain't knocking the ratings dead, by any means. Any little help-us-find-it might matter! Other than that, this is an eleven out of ten.

Special mention goes to Boston Legal. This delightful/devilish show is in a league of its own. Might even have to give it a twelve on that scale of ten. What a fine and surprising save for a series that started out as the sappy and forgettable The Practice. Outstanding.

Wednesday night: Getting past Jericho brings me to Lost. Probably the most creative show on network television. Deserves its own review, too. Everybody talks about this show, especially on the net. Personally, however, I'm getting lost trying to track the hundreds of unanswered questions in Lost. The cast keeps shrinking, as well; and most of the cuts appear to be more contractually-forced than plot-driven. I love reading mysteries, so I should enjoy the endless twists presented by this exceptional drama. I need some answers here, and soon. Otherwise, I'm simply gonna lose interest. In the late slot, I really like what little I've seen of The Nine. Looks like a dynamite premise, very well executed. I'll have to watch a couple more episodes and revisit that one.

Thursday night: I have to put Survivor on my list of shows I can't live without. The cast changes every year, of course; but the set-up and host remain the same. What other show could last this long (is it ten seasons? nine? I'm not sure, off-hand), without making wholesale changes? Even the music has held up over time. You can speculate about producers interfering and creative/deceptive editing and so on. I still love this concept. No other so-called reality show offers Survivor's intriguing blend of social interaction, team-building, and awesome sight-seeing. The only beef I can think of is actually a compliment: why not show reruns during the summer, like every other successful network show does? Then I could miss a few episodes on first-run.

More Thursday night: Obviously, this is THE night for the networks. I can't explain it, but I can accept it. Suddenly, Grey's Anatomy is number one--even pitted directly against the mighty (yawn...) CSI. I've only watched sporadically, so I'll offer this impression: title character Meredith Grey--played by the wispy, weepy Ellen Pompeo--bothers me. She makes me nervous. She's lovely, in an edgy LeAnn Rimes kind of way (it's in the eyes, I think). But she always appears to be on the verge of tears. I can't stand the preachy synopsis she has to deliver every week, either. That's just me, though, folks. How can you argue with Number One?
We watch ER, despite its advanced age. Almost no one from the original cast remains, and the current newcomers often have little new ground available to them. I miss Carter. I even miss the old Carrie Weaver. I hardly ever find myself emotionally involved anymore, either. But we still watch, waiting for those ever-rarer magic moments. We don't get to watch My Name is Earl, or The Office, however. Those are two of the funniest shows on network TV, but they run opposite Survivor. Since Survivor never shows re-runs, we're forced to wait for the summer season to catch up with Earl and Office. They're still all-out hilarious all those months later, though. I'm not nearly smart enough to offer any suggestions for improving either one.

Friday night: After Thursday's must-see schedule, we're stuck with Friday's who-cares offerings. Since my wife and I are boring old married people who don't regularly drink, dance, or gamble, we find ourselves looking for something to see on this dead-zone night. Fortunately, the dead-zone has ghosts! We love Ghost Whisperer, and not just because we can watch it with the kids without being embarrassed. Jennifer Love-Hewitt always looks spectacular, of course. (Will she ever look older than nineteen? Could she show any more cleavage and still be shown on camera?) I'd ease off on the outrageous eye make-up, if only so JLH can hold her eyes all the way open more easily. This show suffers from the dreaded dark-scene syndrome, too. I know: it's scarier that way. I get it. Still bugs me, though. Other than the ghost show, I have to admit that my wife loves Men in Trees. Good for her; hope she enjoys it right up to the time they cancel it. Maybe the WB or TBS will option this one. Otherwise, it's doomed. That's just my opinion.

The weekend brings blessed relief, especially in the fall. No matter what else might be on, I can always find a great football game or NASCAR event. Who needs dramatic plot twists when you can have option roll-outs or botched pitstops? As long as colleges play on Saturday and SuperBowl Sunday remains in the future, then life is good. All the rest may come and go, but football and racing just keep going and going. That's what keeps me sane. Until next time...

Wither goest thou, Jericho?

It's been fifty-seven years since Pat Frank wrote Alas, Babylon. Would Frank approve of the new CBS drama Jericho? Both book and show use the same premise: regular people in an isolated small town cope with the aftermath of a major nuclear attack on the United States. Babylon is regularly taught in colleges around the country. I'm not sure that Jericho can last long enough to matter that much. (If you haven't read the book, and you like post-Apocalyptic stories--like Stephen King's The Stand--head for your favorite used-book outlet now!)

My wife and I saw the long trailer for CBS's hot new television show at the movie theater. I'm not sure how many TV properties get that level of promotion, but it certainly indicates strong network support for this one. Jericho looks like a high-quality drama with solid writing and a big budget. Let's face it: this is a major undertaking, on the level of the old mini-series. Huge cast, lots of potential sub-plots, expensive location shots--this kind of show requires a serious commitment. That also means this show needs a big audience, and it needs to attract and retain that audience right out of the gate.

Tall order for executive producers Jon Turteltaub, Stephen Chbosky, and Carol Barbee: find and keep a big enough following to justify the big investment. I'm sure they know we're out here. By "we" I mean those of us who cannot stomach even one more iteration of CSI: Wherever or Law & Order: XYZ. "We" are the ones who've faithfully watched the better shows that TV Guide inevitably labels "the best show you're not watching". Which is, of course, nearly always the kiss of death. Those programs have large ensemble casts, talented writing teams, stories that evolve from week to week--and big budgets. Much bigger than the paltry sums required to stage so-called reality shows, but not larger than the costs involved in the legal and medical dramas. These other, non-formula dramas are always riskier than the copycat groups. There's no existing audience ready and waiting for a "something different" offering. The investors have to woo this elusive viewership with aggressive marketing campaigns, like running promo's among the trailers for upcoming theatrical releases. Then they have to convince us to stay. That's the tricky part.

What do "we" really want? That's the question guys like Turteltaub hope they can answer. Based on some of the elements I've seen in alternative-premise shows, here's a sampling of answers to "what we want":

• Stories that aren't about lawyers or doctors or forensics. (Lost, for example)
• Intriguing sub-plots that span several episodes. (As in the amazing Alias)
• Multi-cultural ensemble casts. (Lost, again)
• Mysterious circumstances and un-answered questions. (Lost and, especially, Alias. Whatever happened with those Rimbaldie manuscripts, anyway?)
• Hesitant romances slowly kindled between unlikely, but appealing, partners. (Every successful drama in existence. And when the two cast members finally hook-up, start the count-down to the "unforgettable final episode of...")
• Unfamiliar and interesting locales. (well, there's Lost, for example!)
• The constant threat of impending doom. (Same example shows...)

Now let's consider what else these same successful producers seem to think "we" want:

• Protagonists with assorted problems and issues.
• Female leads who are so hot they should be models, not small-town characters.
• Ditto for secondary male leads, who all apparently forget to shave every other day.
• Unlikely developments that keep things interesting, whether believable or not.
• More hot women in very tight clothing.
• Adorable kids doing precocious things, despite their issues or problems.
• Darkness, dark rooms, low light. (Saving electricity? Film noir?)
• Characters with mysterious pasts and enigmatic responses to inquiries from old friends.
• Very hot women who are sort-of interested in above mysterious menfolk, or vice-versa.

Ok, maybe I'm being a bit too cynical here. The above-listed items can be worthy conflicts and valuable eye-candy for even the most serious, high-class shows. But--big but: let's not focus on these trivial adornments. Let's make a show about something. (Yup, opposite of Seinfeld. As in: drama is the opposite of sit-com.) Jericho offers a wonderful premise on which to build a nearly endless procession of sub-plots beneath the main story-line. Friends, Americans, countrymen--can you even imagine what the hell you'd do if you saw a mushroom cloud on the horizon?? Who needs silly, trivial elements when you have 'nukuler' explosions nearby?? Seriously.

I watched Jericho, episode one with huge anticipation. I wasn't entirely disappointed. This could be a great show, a blockbuster hit. But do we need a bumbling mayor and an incompetent sheriff to make it work? Did a schoolbus full of kids on some weird field trip have to crash? Did a freakin' prison bus have to crash, too? And why is it always dark? (Sure, the lights are off; but the sun isn't broken.) Why does the mayor's son have to be a mystery-boy? Could "where-have-you-been?"-boy's former girlfriend be any hotter? Do we really need a nerdy and troubled teenager, and the hot-girls who hate him? This isn't a daytime soap, after all. Jericho can, and should, be a riveting drama. Simply pose the question--what would you do??--and answer it, one week at a time.

We're up to episode three now. The citizens of small-town Jericho are figuring out how to cope, and alliances are emerging. There's surely trouble a-brewing: Who else is out there? What will these people eat when the food runs out? How will they all keep the peace, despite their natural differences? Is the government gone? Is the air safe to breath? Some of these questions have already emerged, as expected. Some may even get answered. Mingle a few smaller mysteries into the main plot. Feature a couple of fine-looking lasses, among the normal mix of real and regular females. Allow the mayor and the sheriff an occasional triumph. Maybe an ordinary working guy can help solve a problem or two; he could even be a few pounds overweight and recently-shaved. Let the sun shine for at least half the show's sixty minutes. Draw the eager audience into the authentic terror of a post-apocalyptic America. No condescending distractions required. The story would speak for itself, and the ratings would be huge.