I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this, but I am the child of a bunch of socialist hippies. That’s right, my family is exactly who Rush Limbaugh warns you against. We’re those crazy weirdos who support things like gay marriage (can I get a shout-out from my Boston gays?), universal health care, and marijuana legalization. If we had our way, our country would have been Sweden about two decades ago, everything would be organic and free-trade, and everyone would join hands and sing Kumbaya around a campfire made from sticks that volunteered to be burnt. We’re really sorry about making America godless the way the founding fathers intended, but that’s sort of what we do on the weekends in between tending the arugala we grow in our pesticide-free garden. (Sidebar — that is the only non-facetious thing I’ve said so far. My dad just really likes gardening and arugala.)
So, as you can imagine, everyone in my house is pretty fond of Obama. That fondness, however, does not extend far enough to watch his press conferences for anyone in my household but me. But I love President Obama. I simply adore him. I would watch the man mow the lawn or discuss an ingrown toenail all day long. I would quit CliqueClack in a hot second (sorry guys!) if I thought the White House would take me up on my offer to be Executive Cookie Baker and Dog Walker In Chief. I would give all my limbs if Michelle Obama wanted to go clothes shopping with me so my remaining torso would look fabulous. But let’s be honest — Obama’s press conferences? They’re kind of boring.
Though Obama released Bush Era torture memos ten days ago, they’re still all anyone in the news media (both real and fake) has been able to talk about since. I can’t really say why. Perhaps they take a very long time to read? Perhaps people are comforted by finding something even more depressing than the economy? Whatever the reason, torture was the name of the game at Comedy Central, a high order, considering that even I have issues joking about torture. That’s right. I’ll make off-color jokes about 9/11 but torture? Torture is a challenge.
And that’s why I leave such things to the professionals.
If I had to choose to marry one person on television, I, like millions of women everywhere, would choose Jim Halpert. But he’s been disappointing me for a while now. Have some vision, Jim! Have some ambition! Some spine!
So this episode didn’t exactly address those concerns, but at the very least, I fell back in love with Jim again, and it feels so good. After last week, we were kind of in a snit. How dare you trick Andy so cruelly, Halpert? But oh, this week. How can I not love a guy who wakes up at butt-o’clock in the morning to kiss his fiance goodbye in his adorable pajama pants, and then saves her company later in the same day? That’s a man. Take notes, everyone.
Another character I absolutely fell in love with all over again was Michael. I’ve written before about the issue with finding Michael endearing, but this week, thanks to the masterful direction by Steve Carell, I’m finding it just too easy. No one seems to understand how to balance the incompetence with childlike wisdom that Michael uniquely possesses better than the man who portrays him. I wish the writers would take notice of him more often, because that man? He’s a genius.
I don’t know if you cowboys have heard, but there’s a new show in town, goes by the name of Parks and Recreation. Stars that blond chick from Saturday Night Live? Yeah, that’s the one.
Here at fictional CliqueClack headquarters, the job/responsibility/privilege of who’s going to write up this show has been going around like a hot potato or a really technologically advanced version of the Nose Game (which, I would like to add, still solves a great number of disputes in my household). But as the newbie around here, I’ve decided to step up and not touch my e-nose. Hold on to that hot potato. Burn my metaphorical hands a little.
Another awesome writer of ours, Aryeh, wrote up a great open letter on why the Michael Scott Paper Company should have been the new spin-off. Sadly for Aryeh, this week has shown us why, exactly, such a dream is impossible (though I won’t spoil anyone waiting to read our inevitably mind-blowing review of this week’s episode). In this post, Aryeh makes a great point that he completely didn’t mean to make, but is true — Parks and Recreation is suffering from what I like to call “younger sibling syndrome.”
So I happen to really love Kathy Griffin.
Look, it’s not just a redhead solidarity thing, okay? There’s a good reason why I find her, her plastic surgery, her bad haircut and eight pounds of extensions, and her crass non-humorous humor delightful, and it’s a good reason. And that reason? Is because I’m a girl.
I don’t know what it is, exactly, about Kathy Griffin that makes her so unappealing to men (well, the stereotypically straight ones, anyways). Maybe it’s the gossip-mongering. Maybe it’s the campy in-jokes. But whatever it is, I can watch her stand-up for hours, but my brother takes one look at her face on-screen and runs up to his room like a bat out of hell.
I personally don’t know what there is not to love. She’s crass, bold, and totally crazy. She tells Jesus to suck it on national television after winning an Emmy! She hits on Anderson Cooper on-air! Who doesn’t want to hit shamelessly on Anderson Cooper on-air?
Wait, I may have touched on something there.