...to the land of the living, that is.  First there was the post-deadline brain implosion, then, immediately after, there was the visit to the dentist that left me all swelled-up and whiny and slurping vanilla shakes like there was no tomorrow, and then there was the general-to-be-expected (even if I never expect it) lethargy that follows from staying on your couch for 72 hours watching Party of Five reruns on Hulu.

(And by the way, Scott Wolf and Matthew Fox? Bizarrely just as hot as they were in the 90s, no more, no less.  Maybe because they both seem to have drunk some kind of miracle anti-aging juice. I was a definite Bailey girl when this show was first on, at least in the early seasons, but Charlie has grown on me.  Maybe it's the Lost aura effect.  Dear readers, if you've never seen this show, you should go watch the first season, because it was incredible. Less angsty and gritty than My So-Called Life, far less soapy and trashy than Gossip Girl or 90210 -- all shows I love, mind you -- it was what Dawson's and Felicity wanted to be, but couldn't quite manage.  Just trust me. And then, if you like it, you should rent the 1st and 2nd seasons of Everwood, because they're in the same vein.  Plus Scott Wolf's dimples make an appearance!)

But now I'm done with the season, just as I'm done with my manuscript, and as my mouth has returned to almost normal thus allowing me to venture into the outside world. Both literally and electronically.  So here I am.

First things first: Don't forget, today is the last day to enter the SKINNED contest! Just send me a headline from the year 2060, and you could win a free iPod shuffle, a free iPod skin, or a gift certficate to Amazon or B&N. Details here. (Remember, it's a random drawing, so even if you're afraid you can't come up with a good headline, you should just send in the best you've got!)

What else? I was thinking yesterday about how I've expended all this energy and ink discussing my many crushes, but never shed spotlight on any of my girl crushes, ie the ladies that I wish I could grow up to be someday. Number one: Candice Bergen.



Now, Candice Bergen is currently on the show Boston Legal, which I watch (and I realize I'm the only one left in the country to do so) laregly because a) I'm in love with James Spader, b) David Kelly created one of my all time favorite shows and every now and then a little of that show's goodness leaks into this one, and c) Candice Bergen is awesome.

That said, in my mind, Candice Bergen -- and this is the reason I will love her forever -- will always be Murphy Brown.

I've been missing Murphy Brown lately, as I can only imagine what she'd make of the current political climate.  For those of you who never watched this show or (sight) weren't born yet when it aired, Murphy Brown was a sitcom in the early 90s about a loudmouthed, opinionated, stubborn, sarcastic, angry, (recovering) alcoholic, totally unlikeable yet totally charming anchor on a 60 minutes style new show.  Murphy Brown couldn't tolerate hypocriscy, incompetence, or stupidity -- and most of all, she couldn't tolerate liars.  This show was about a bunch of hapless journalists trying to put on a weekly newcast, it was about 90s politics (and in a way, in its jokes and references, was as period-specific as the Wonder Years or Will and Grace), it was about a woman navigating the shoals of working life (and later, working motherhood), it was about a woman who didn't care what anyone thought of her, but most of all, I would argue, it was about the search for, and insistence upon, authenticity and truth. In personal life, in professional life, in political life. It was about saying whatever you think and standing up for what you believe in, whatever the consequences. And sometimes the consequence was actually a reward -- shout your unpleasant truths loudly enough, and you get to be Murphy Brown.

It was also pretty damn funny. Plus it had an excellent soundtrack -- and every once in a while, Candice Bergen got to sing along:

First things first -- don't forget that today is your last chance to win a copy of Skinned! Just email me -- robin (at) robinwasserman (dot) com -- with the title of your favorite book.  WInners will be announced soon!

------

Moving on. 90210, "new and improved." I've awaited this show's debut with eagerness and dread. And now that it's arrived, I'm a little reluctant to comment on the pilot, given how incredibly wrong I was about the Gossip Girl pilot. (Except for Chuck being the second coming of James Spader. That one I called from the outset.)  Stll, quick impressions:

-Not enough Brenda Walsh!

-Definitely enough "Hannah Zuckerman-Vasquez" (though I did appreciate the inside joke)

-What the hell did they do to the Peach Pit?

-Who's the father of Kelly Taylor's baby? (I mean, obviously they're keeping this a mystery in hopes they can woo Jason Priestley or Luke Perry back on screen, but If it's Dylan, I swear, I'll punch a whole in my tv.)

-Laurie Laughlin and Rob Estes are no James Eckhouse and What's Her Name (speaking of unnecessary adults, Nat is looking...botoxed)

-It's embarrassing how much of a chill I got when the theme song kicked in.

-I foresee the biggest problem going forward is that the female lead CANNOT ACT.  She's insufferable, and seems to have only two acting modes. "Frowny face" and "inappropriate laughing face." It gives me a whole new respect for how much Shannen Doherty really made this show, back in the day. Which leads me back to,

-Not enough Brenda Walsh!

------------

In other news, anyone flip over from the CW to the RNC at 10? (This was like going straight from a Justin Timberlake concert to the Bing Crosby Christmas Special.) Slate's take: "Boaters, facelifts, bowties, creepy pallor. It's like a Lynchian version of The Music Man."

And you can see why:



(The Texas delegation, via the New York Times)

There are a lot of things I could post about this morning: lauren_myracle's photo-riffic description of this weekend's tropical hijinx (including a rather embarrassing picture of yours truly), or the fact that Obama is finally, and awesomely, hitting back against McCain (money quote: "It's like these guys take pride in being ignorant.")

I could discuss American Teen, the Breakfast Club-style documentary I saw last night which was okay but (and I know you won't believe me on this) not nearly as interesting or incisive a commentary on high school life as MTV's The Paper.

I could point you to this very cool test to see if you have synethsia (which it turns out is a much less rare condition than everyone assumed, and you might not even know you have it), or we could discuss the fact that Joss Whedon's newest show is starting to sound as doomed as Firefly. (And while we're at it, why isn't there any buzz about JJ Abrams' Fringe, starring the ever delightful Joshua Jackson?)

We could, of course, always discuss Neil Patrick Harris.

But today, I choose to relay to you this sad news: PBS is cancelling Mr. Rogers. (Yes, arguably the universe cancelled Mr. Rogers back in 2003, but even after his death, the show has been airing in reruns.) What do you think? Is this an outdated show that holds no appeal to today's children and -- unlike Sesame Street -- can no longer adjust to fit wtih the times? Is it a piece of our own childhood that, out of misguided nostalgia, we're all determined to cram down the next generation's throats? Or is Mr. Rogers the only sane man in an insane world, giving our children the fundamental building blocks they need on issues like personal responsibility, lying, and cardigan sweaters?

Personally, Mr. Rogers himself always bored me, but ahhh...how I loved the Land of Make Believe.

Because I automatically assume that all culture from my childhood is superior to anything created after 1990 (and yes, I understand the irony here, given that I myself have become a post-90s culture-creator), it's hard for me to be objective on this one. I'm willing to accept that maybe Mr. Rogers and Mr. McFeely's time has passed. (Seriously, McFeely? Who's his boss down at the post office, Mo Lester?)  Still, it seems like a sad moment of passing.

Moment of silence . . .

. . .

Now, two questions:
1. Which show of your childhood do you wish could run forever in syndication?

2. Does anyone remember the opera episode of Mr. Rogers, which featured characters like Fork and Spoon, singing about how evil Mr. Knife was? Because this one's printed indelibly on my brain, yet I've never found anyone else who actually remembers it, and am beginning to think I'm insane.

When I was a kid, my parents never hired a babysitter. Instead, whenever they needed to go out, they sent me off to my grandmother. This worked out rather well, since Saturday nights at her apartment meant two things: chocolate milk and Golden Girls. (And, if I was doubly lucky, butterscotch krimpets.)

Of course, I didn't understand three quarters of of what was happening on the show (and not just the senior citizen sex stuff -- I was in my 20s before I discovered that St Olaf was in Minnesota, not Sweden).  Watching reruns now, I have to assume that at the time a lot of the dialogue must have sounded like, "Blah blah blah inexplicable laugh line about handcuffs, blah blah blah something about blanche and a fireman's hose blah blah blah cheescake." (To give you a sense of how clueless I was, I believe this was also the first time I'd ever heard of cheesecake.)

I loved every minute of it. And of all the things I loved when I was eight years old, this seems to be the only one that was actually good.

(With the exception of buttersctoch krimpets -- and I'm willing to accept that that one's debatable.)

Not just good television, but a good thing to exist in the universe. A show about women in their sixties (and we won't even discuss how much more ancient that seemed to me when I was eight years old) with no husbands, absentee children, and -- nonetheless -- active social lives and sex lives. 

I'm inclined to say that no such show would ever be made today, but as I mentioned, I'm experimenting with optimism. So maybe it would, but it would be on HBO, and the women would probably be the heads of a brothel or something.

The point is, the show was brilliant, even if no one seems to realize it but (an admittedly large chunk of) fans and the programming execs at the Lifetime network. And that brilliance was in large part due to Estelle Getty (Sophia), who died this week.

One of the obituaries said something that really struck me:

Getty, a natural comedian famous for her one-liners even in private life, played Sophia for laughs, but she also brought depth to the character. It was her idea that Sophia would always carry a purse because, she said, older women are forced to shed so many possessions in their later years that everything they own ends up in their purses. "Nobody puts down their life very easily," she explained.

Nobody puts down their life very easily. One final piece of wisdom from Sophia Petrillo.

Well...okay, here's one more:

The new 90210 -- yea or nay?


Clearly I've been watching too much of the CW (curse those Gossip Girl reruns!), but every time I see this stupid trailer, I have a pavlovian 'I want this NOW' response. Even though it's surely destined to suck.

Or is it?

Cons:
-Probability that this will be lame retread of deliciously cheesy 90s greatness = high

-Rob "Veronica Mars" Thomas no longer running the show (am I the only one who didn't know this until just now?) -- replaced by exec producer of "What About Brian"

-returning characters to include Nat, exclude Dylan and Brandon

Pros:
-(semi) breaking news....Shannon Doherty joins the cast! (At least for a little while.) And even better, it seems (spoiler alert) that Brenda Walsh has become an internationally acclaimed actress and director, while Kelly Taylor is a West Beverly guidance counselor. (Dear Kelly, maybe instead of "choosing me," you should have chosen grad school. Love, Brenda+DylanFanForever512.)

Uh, sorry, what was I saying? Got distracted by the schadenfreude. Oh, right, the electric slide of tolerance:


So, speaking of '90s works of art, when do I get my Party of Five reunion special?

Can we just discuss for a second the awesomeness that is MTV's The Paper?  I've been watching this series online, as it makes the perfect half hour break when I'm craving some american television (and MTV seems to be the only network that doesn't block europeans from watching its streaming video episodes). But it's not desperation or deprivation that makes me love this show.

People, it's a reality show about a high school newspaper.  The players are all newspaper geeks. (And I mean that in the most loving, been there, done that way.) Sure, they've divided themselves, rather nastily, into the cool crowd and the loser crowd -- but once again, they're all newspaper geeks. Which makes their machiavellian highjinx all the more lovable.

On Gossip Girl, you can find Blair and Serena fighting over the same guy. On the Hills...well, I don't watch that show, but I have to assume they're fighting over Gucci purses or something.  But on The Paper? They fight over who's going to lay out the front page! Who knows how to print things to jpeg! (Hint: nobody.) Whether or not to take an 'all editors' photograph at the homecoming dance!

All that, plus you've got delightfully recognizable characters from your own youth:

-super-ambitious, completely clueless editor in chief Amanda who sticks up little 'How to Move Your Cheese' inspirational post-it notes on her bedroom wall, lays out her week of clothes ahead of time, and gleefully narrates her life for her dog.

-loser, wannabe Alex, who ditched Amanda in favor of the (ahem) "cool crowd" and first asked out his girlfriend by text message! At a Dave Matthews concert!

-Adam, voted "most dramatic" by the yearbook, "homecoming king" by the student body, and "fabulous" by me, mostly because of the time he ditched out on a crazy deadline session to attend...High School Musical on ICE.

Could this show get any better? So painful, yet so perfect. So all you YA writers out there, heed my call. You want to see some regular teens in their (semi) natural habitat, without becoming that creepy lady lurking in the high school parking lot?

Watch it:

Or maybe, yesssssssssss!  (I can't decide.)

Is it a good thing that Harvey Weinstein is reviving this piece of 80s brilliance -- or is doing so destined to ruin it forever?

I reserve the right to withhold judgment.



"The Weinstein Co. is taking Fraggle Rock to the big screen! Jim Henson's classic series will become a live-action musical, directed by Hoodwinked! director Cory Edwards." (from the NY Observer)

Faithful readers of this blog may have picked up on how much I worship the website Television Without Pity. Good TV and good writing are two of my favorite things -- throw in some good snark, and you've got the perfect storm of televisionary bliss that was TWoP. I've had my eye on this site since I was in college, when it was just a humble little thing called Mighty Big TV that posted entertaining Dawson's Creek recaps.

(The only TV I watched in college was located in a room with three guys, none of whom would come within fifty feet of a Dawson's Creek episode, nor would they have let me live it down if I'd dared admit that I wanted to...reading the Mighty Big TV recaps at 2 am when I should have been studying for physics tests was my secret shame.)

I'm generally the late adopter, bandwagon-jumping type, so I've always been particularly proud of myself for stumbling onto TWoP before it became an internet phenomenon. Unfortunately, by the time I clued into the fact that writing for such a website was something one could do as an actual job, all the jobs were filled -- and, according to the FAQ, filled for life. For years, there's been a polite but firm note in the FAQ saying basically "Yes, we know you want to work here. Too bad. We have all the employees we're ever going to need. Seriously, don't bother. We mean it." Apparently, once a TWoPer, always a TWoPer.

Then Bravo bought the website.

Then Bravo started changing stuff on the website--adding a million features nobody wanted, which diluted the content, alienated readers, and created a bunch of dissatisfaction among all the overtalented, underpaid workers who were now stuck doing seven jobs for the price of one.

Then the site's three founders quit, a year to the day after the Bravo contract was signed.

Then some of their best writers followed them out the door, and I can only assume they won't be the last ones.

And, as of today, the site has completely changed its signature design, which I realize may seem trivial, but to me, at least, feels like the last nail in the coffin.

Look, I've never been one of those people who think that too much success is a bad thing. (Nor do I have any principled stance against major media corporations, especially given the fact that without them, I couldn't pay my rent.)  But in this case, it's hard to escape the conclusion that TWoP was so successful it destroyed itself -- or, at least, let the people at Bravo take the wheel and run the ship into an iceberg.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, "It's only TV." And it's not even TV, it's commentary about TV. But I loved it nonetheless. Still, I guess this is where I shrug and say: Well...it was good while it lasted.

And then maybe shut down the computer, turn off the TV, and go read a book.