Would you Believe.........

I wasn't sure how many of you out there picked up on the ode to the 1960's comedy series "Get Smart" that I've made in the title of this blog.  I'm guessing there would have been a few, but didn't want to assume.  Maxwell Smart, agent 86 as brilliantly played by Don Adams, along with agent 99 (the wonderful Barbara Feldon) acted as my surrogate babysitter for much of my childhood.  In the 1970's my sister and I were latch-key kids; Dad had left Mum who was now out in the workforce.  There was no such thing as after-school programs for young kids then.  So we skipped our way home, found the housekey from where it was hidden on a nail behind the fencepost down the end of the driveway, and set about amusing ourselves.

This meant making the biggest glass of Milo and milk, along with a decent handful of sweet bisciuts (usually teddy bears as Mum wouldn't allow chocolate ones which were too expensive and were Bad For You) and plomping oneself in front of the teev for a solid diet of american re-runs of sit-coms from the 60's.  Staple diet of amusement included;

I Dream of Jeannie (sexist but worth watching for Dr Bellows' indignation)

The Brady Bunch (cheesy but always watchable; loved the Hawaiian episodes with the cursed 'tiki')

Bewitched (Endora was a goddess; an early gay icon, she looked like a Mardi Gras float entrant)

and of course...

Get Smart (Max was infuriating but the sight gags were great; Siegfried also used to make me chuckle).

While I have a degree of fondness for these shows I don't feel rose-eyed enough to purchase them on DVD, much less watch them on the new extra free-to-air digital channels.  I have perused them briefly on the digital channels and find them so very dated, sexist and not even funny.  Times change, huh?  Mind you I see some of what's on offer on our screen and just shake my head in disbelief; are we really in the 21st century when dross like "2 Broke Girls" still slimes its way across our screens?  

Anyway look I'm not about to holler the feminist howl and cry foul; it's more the moronic witless banter I dislike.  Even the newest episodes of Big Bang Theory seem to have lost their lustre over the past few months.  No wonder I listen to radio these days more than watching the box.

I watched a zombie DVD this afternoon: "Land of the Dead" by George A. Romero, the man responsible for the zombie classic "Dawn of the Dead".  It was an ok 2005 outing with Simon Baker as a passable hero; Dennis Hopper being strangely miscast as a corporate villain; but the real stars were the zombies, they were a hoot.  There's such an art to doing a real zombie-shuffle, I think.  The stiff legged style is one approach, although I noted one talented zombie doing a buckled-knee action which was suitably awkward too.  Anyway lots of brain and flesh-eating; good fodder for a rainy Tuesday afternoon whilst slowly sipping a glass of cask shiraz with the dog on my lap.

I have to limit my red wine consumption: have found out the hard way it is a bucket full of histamines, which doesn't block my nose; rather it makes my throat puff up and a bit hard to breathe.  I find if I have more than 3 small glasses I have to sleep with 3 chunky pillows in order not to choke.  Weird reaction.  Anyhow I shouldn't be drinking at all; have been battling this for the past month or so; a never-ending story.  Moderation is soooooooo hard.  I can manage it with most things, but not with cigarettes or alcohol.  Bummer.

Anyway this has weaved and ducked all around the joint, this post.  I'm tired.  It's time to feed the dog and watch the news.  Bye.