As most of you know, I’m leaving for Bogota on the 30th, which has turned my life into a swarm of errands. Today I applied for a Colombian visa. Rather, because I’m cool, I went to a special diplomatic room where I signed for my diplomatic passport (“Dip Pass”, to those in the know. It sounds, to me, more like a drunken party game than an official document). A Dip Pass is black, and the information page has this weird glittery stuff that makes me look like an Ecstasy-ridden club kid. I pick it up again in 10 days with my visa, which the good folks at the State Department will arrange for me.
I’m still trying to get rid of the furniture, so please let me know if you want anything. I’m also putting up an ad on Craigslist.
“Simon’s Home Video”, Airdate 10.13.03
7th Heaven answers affirmatively to many of life’s little questions. Is it appropriate for a 13-year-old to be in a long-term, steady relationship? Apparently, yes. Is it OK to listen in on private conversations? Yes. Is it appropriate to live in your parents’ garage after you’re married? Yes! Can a minister’s family afford to drink Snapple almost exclusively? Yes.
But now, 7th Heaven has answered a question that’s been chewing at me for years: Is there anything on Earth more boring than a clip episode? YES! And the pioneers at 7th Heaven have found it. I spent one hour of my life looking at still photos of Camdens, while Simon narrated. “This is Mary. This is Lucy. This is Lucy’s husband Kevin.” Really. Since none of the Camdens seem to be on the show any more, maybe the viewers need to be reminded who they are. Occasionally, they’d spin the photos around in a barf-worthy “special as in short bus” special effect. But, mostly, it was narration in bold defiance of the key rule of screenwriting: show, don’t tell. They spent an hour of my life TELLING! Aaargh.
I’d like to think this was some sort of bold experiment, where Aaron Spelling’s team of creative geniuses drank a whole bunch of Jolt Cola one fateful night and rhapsodized about “documentary-style filmmaking.” However, once I typed the phrase “Spelling’s team of creative geniuses”, I realized that, most likely, David Gallagher was being punished for quitting the show by receiving the lamest send-off ever. Or, even more likely, everyone wanted to take the week off, and a clip episode would at least require the editors to show up for work. Most likely of all, this episode was an elaborate prank in which an intern was told to write the episode that would be his “big break.”
Since nothing really happened in this episode, I’ll recap my reactions: Uncomfortable giggling, followed by nervous pacing around the apartment. Mute horror. Mild nausea. And, finally, sweet relief: crushing boredom and mild coma, chased with Yuengling. I don’t think a family values show could drive me to drink, but there you are.
Worst. Episode. Ever. All assessments: 0.