Monday, January 08, 2007

Again, I Implore You: Stop Making Me Love Your Hot Ass

Why Didn't Somebody Tell Me?!

Episode 21: The West Wing

(Episodes 1-20 available in back issues of DAE, including episode 4, "David Bowie"; episodes 6-8, "Staying Hydrated," "Blueberry Pie," and "Finishing A Project"; and episode 17, "Big Afros.")

Oh, Mr. Sorkin...

I'm sorry if I ever implied that your skills were overrated. I'm sorry if I made fun of your big-titted and dazzlingly-platinum Broadway Baby ex-girlfriend, Kristin Chenoweth. I'm sorry if there was a small part of me that was really only watching Sports Night because of a residual childhood crush on Robert Guillaume. Aaron Sorkin, I salute your genius. How long were people suzy'ing over The West Wing? Well, since 1999, I guess. Whatever. I was not about to start watching this show then. In 1999, I was doing a fair amount of blow* and I could not have cared less** about a dialogue-dense political drama starring Martin fucking Sheen if I tried.

*An excuse that I'm sure you'll appreciate.

**Note to Sorkin, as well as all the other losers who routintely get this wrong, thus ensuring that I grow aged prematurely: the phrase is "couldn't care less," not "could care less." The two are not synonymous; they are, in fact, diametrically opposite in meaning. Learn it, people! For fuck's sake. How this mistake continued to find its way into what was supposed to be one of the more erudite shows on television, I'll never know.

The problem, of course, is that the apathy of youth becomes the cravings of maturity. Or something. While living with Bernie in PDX, I discovered that I was no longer capable of the patience or commitment necessary for week-by-week tv fandom. That is, I love Lost and I love The Sopranos, but I'll be dead in my grave before I make appointments to watch a fucking tv show every week.* Enter dvds. Now we can watch a season's worth of ...well, anything, really, and there's no waiting 7 days for the next episode, people! The next episode is only one click of the "chapter skip" button away! Now, you couple that kind of instant gratification with the wonder of the Netflix menage-a-trois-at-a-time, and you've got a woman who finally decided to see what all of the jibberjabber was about and whoa -- I have blown through the first 2 seasons of The West Wing in about 5 days. That may not seem like much, but I'd ask you to consider that each season contains 22 one-hour episodes; that I have had to work during that time, that I have also had multiple dentist appointments this week; that...the point is, people, that this show is just killing me softly, 48 minutes at a time. It has accomplished the impossible: making me feel ever-so-slightly affectionate towards Rob Lowe. That, in and of itself, is a miracle. I have carried my antipathy for the Lowes around with me like a security blanket. Of course, I also thought that I was going to take my Andrew McCarthy-loathing to my deathbed, but that one effed up episode of SVU (DO NOT ACT AS IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT) made me revise my opinions of that dude's acting skills, too. Hmmm. Brat Pack redemption. Who would have known? Or indeed, have cared?

Anyway, I am about to have three of my wisdom teeth prised out of my face on Wednesday, so for the next few days, all I will be doing is cold-chillin' with the Bartlet administration.

(In no particular order, these are the people I am loving the most so far! Oh, that's a lie. Toby is abosolutely my favorite. That mean motherfucker is the best. Toby Ziegler! Toby Ziegler! Toby Ziegler! I don't want to hear any crap about what happens to him in subsequent seasons, either, so can it, bitches)


thptpth said...

When I got to go to the Emmys for HBO in 2001, I walked in with Dule Hill - he is the nicest guy. He introduced himself to me and everything, as if I hadn't watched every single episode up to that point and worshipped him from afar.

Adams said...

You are killing me softly over here, Afro-dite. I can't believe I am only hearing this now.

Electric Mayhem said...

Broc - Rizzo, as I prefer to remember her, Stockard Channing, was outside my office today and then stood in line behind me at my coffee place. Chick could use a vacation.

Adams said...

The First Lady's is one of the few faces I miss. And yet, I can't go back into the belly of the beast. I barely made it out of one Sorkin coma. I'm not voluntarily going back down the rabbit hole.