Wednesday, March 19, 2008


The Crotchety Old Lady has been out of work for the last few weeks due to surgery. So I begrudgingly have turned over the remote to her during the day. My day is now filled with such testosterone sapping TV fare as soap operas and Oprah.
I can’t get into the soaps because it seems every single one has the following script:
Chase has an affair with Veronica, but hopes that Michael, his half-brother doesn't find out. Great mental anguish ensues. But, of course, Michael has been having an affair with Celeste, while Conchetta, the poor but honest maid (who naturally does not know she is the illegitimate love child of Chase's Dad, Devon) falls in love with Michael's business rival. Then, Bram, a devilishly charming, filthy rich businessman from some country where they speak English, either Oz or Fiji, constructs a plan to win the heart of Veronica.
Sure, some of the names are changed around, but they always use proper names or some uncommon name like Logan or Ridge. Every once in a while a Rick or Johnny sneaks in, but one will never find a Dave on a soap opera. Soaps are also great for characters named Lucky, Sonny, or some other name that hasn’t been heard since the late 70’s. Personally, I’ve never known anyone with such a moniker, but apparently, these are pretty common in soaps.
My daily soap marathon ends just in time for Oprah. I don’t get Oprah. She has some decent guests, but she may have the most annoying delivery on television. Much of the time, she sounds like a game show host on steroids as she yells out the guest’s name or some gift for the audience. I’m sure she is a nice lady, but do I really need to hear her yell out DOCTOR OZ!!! She must be doing something right, as she makes a bazillion dollars and has launched a few very successful shows, produced movies, and publishes a magazine. I should only be so successful.