First of all, loving you guys for writing in last week. The world is filled with blogs these days (hell, this
is filled with blogs), so for anyone to read mine, much less reply? I'm feeling very
. Thanks for liking me!
Now, about the
situation that seems to have erupted. Like Chappy explained with NASA-powered GPS accuracy in the comments, the final two episodes of
's sophomore season introduced
as Melrose's Jake Hanson, the dude who taught Drunky McKay "how to surf, ride a motorcyclepick up girls." And having just finished the second season on DVD, that skill set obviously also included getting with Kelly Taylor, which is what Hanson tries while not building Jackie Taylor and Mel Silver's wedding pavilion and squinting through his carefully swept-back-but-floppy hair. "I should probably be arrested for thinking what I'm thinking right now," he tells our favorite jailbait. Nothing says romance - or spin-off - like a potential case of statutory, huh?
Even before we get to the nuptials though, there are the travesties we must only speak of once: Steve Sanders on steroids and the
Color Me Badd
episode. Oh holy fright... what were they thinking?! I get that the writers needed to put the gang in a hotel so Donna could catch her mom having that "seedy" affair, but for real, for real. Color Me Badd? They weren't even hot when they
hot! They were always bad. Or badd. Whatever, that one was a mess, despite the revelation that Jim and Cindy are so terminally unhip that they can spend an entire rainy Saturday at a Shaker furniture exhibit. As for the steroids hour, well that simply needs to be seen so y'all can bask in the glory of
and his curly mullet (curlett?) throwing
around the back room of the Peach Pit in a fit of 'roid rage like, 12 hours after taking his first dose. Now, I've never juiced before, but I bet you get the bacne before the rage blackouts. And neither, I'm sure, kick in that quickly.
Yet even those nits don't count, because there is nothing better than
at its cheesy best, and the show totally hit its stride in Season 2. Dylan and Brenda on the skids, David and Donna on the rise, Andrea the 40-year-old virgin leading the West Beverly condom crusade, and - beat this - an uncredited
as a Taylor-Silver wedding guest who hits on Steve. Apparently that poor girl
had good taste in men. By the time the synthesized theme is playing over Dylan's mad dash from Casa Walsh after his blowout with Jim, and a bitch-soaked Brenda's standing on the front yard in her
pink bridesmaid dress, you can almost smell the teen spirit dripping from the closing credits. It's enough to make a guy go grab his first season of
on DVD and call out "sick" for the next few days.
Which I won't, since our next order of business is
The Land of the Lost
, and that deserves at least a few words before I go. If only to warn those of you with the same warm and fuzzy memories I had before popping in the first-season DVD set that this shizz is out there! I don't know what
were H.R. puffing on back in the day, but the '70s were definitely less freaky for kids growing up during them than they are for grown-up kids revisiting them.
If you've forgotten (or blocked it out),
was like a pre-pre-pre-
about Marshall, Will and Holly, a family of khaki-favoring rafting aficionados who go over a waterfall and wind up in a giant green-screen world of rubber dinosaurs, monkey people and the always name-droppable Sleestaks. Seriously, mention them in passing and you'll see people of a certain age get a little too happy. That they're actually upright lizards in lime green scuba suits and biker goggles won't even matter. Throw in a Chaka reference and you might actually get some.
It was the coolest thing ever in 1974, I swear. Of course, so were footie pajamas and my brother's Big Jim action figures. Today? Not so much. Trippy as all get-out and cheaper than most of the women on
Rock of Love
, this first-season set is another one of those pseudo-gems that needs to be seen. For some reason I think
, who played Will, was this teen idol with a perpetually open shirt and those Clarks Wallabee suede shoes. So I hope he milked that deal for every
magazine cover he could, 'cause lemme tell ya, he sort of comes off as the Jack McFarland of the Lost, if you know what I mean, mmmkaaay?
Anyway, there are a ton of other Saturday morning goodies out there to devour on DVD (did someone say
?) and we'll get to them soon enough. But next week I think a little "best FX sitcom you're not watching" action is in store.
Until then, don't hog the remote!