Good Morning, Dave: 9/9/80, Christmas in September

For Dave's followers, those minding the kids at home or back to school, they might have missed the announcement at the end of the Monday episode.  The promo later in the day left no doubt: it will be Christmas tomorrow, just to get the "special" episode over-with.

The opening remained the same, but true to all those whimsical holiday cards of yore, Dave enters framed in a wreath.

The audience, of course, is already in the holiday spirit.

The reasons explained were simple: you're tired of Christmas by December what with all the specials, shopping, so on.  Get it out of the way, and you don't have to go shopping afterward.  This would also be rerun on December 24th or 25th (sadly, this wouldn't be an issue).

First, comes a look at predictions of the hot gifts for Christmas '80, including a shirt stained with fancy foods (to give the impression of high dining), a couch-sized whoopee cushion, and Mr. Mashed Potato Head.

The end result gets a mixture of laughs and uncomfortable groans, which leaves Dave to remind the audience that these are just a few and not all of the hot gifts for this Christmas.

First guest, Susan Powell (Miss America 1981), gives Dave insight on the pageant.  When she says that regardless of how large of a group are competing for a crown or not, you really compete with yourself, Dave asks "You don't mean to say you were the only entry in the pageant."  Though the audience laughs, Dave reminds her it's a joke, which leads to fake laughter by the guest and a host caught a bit off guard.

If anything, it shows Powell is more than game to play on Dave's level.

Dave: Thank you for having the courage for being on the show.
Susan: You know, I was just thinking that...

In the next segment, Powell sings "White Christmas" while Dave reminds viewers "is there anything more American than Miss America singing White Christmas, even in September..."

After a view of folks doing their last minute shopping for the holidays (on a day considered "unseasonably warm")...Dave brings up a recent article in Small Town News.  This usually showed headlines and brief snippets of local color (it's where Jay Leno "thought of" Headlines on his shows).  This segment is the "Men & Their Vegetables Hall of Fame"

He then calls the farmer of a squash that weighs 337 lbs., John Ritz of Canton, OH.  John answers the phone "Morning, Dave!"  How did it happen?  Good seed, good soil, and a lot of tea.  He spreads out this tea each August on the fields.  "Now this sounds kind of crazy, but it's not the kind of tea you're gonna drink.  It's a tea made of sheep manure and cow manure."  Dave's response "And you say people don't drink that, huh?"  The squash will keep for another month, and will likely feed most of it to his sheep.

Next is guest Tom Feltenstein, a fast food psychologist, specifically on what makes these restaurants work and how they create turnover.  He states it as "Fast Service," a phrase commonly used today.  He mentions that kids decide so much of the visits, that if they know there is a playground or games there, that leads to where a family ends up visiting a high majority of occasions.  Tom also talks about the key of drive-thru, specifically for those customers who don't want the "hassle" of going inside.  Dave seems interested in this topic and you hear him on the mic say as they go to break "I'd like you to come back."

But what Christmas special would be complete without a visit from Santa!  (Sadly, Santa has some trouble getting out of the sled)

Dave later admits that this is not the real Santa Claus ("The real Santa is vacationing in Las Vegas") but Today show weatherman Willard Scott.  The program closes with all of the kids in the audience joining Dave, Susan and Tom, and everyone gets a Christmas gift.

Was it a can of Winky's Cow Paste?  Part of the giant squash?  We may never know.
  

Good Morning, Dave: Thu, 8/14/80

The clip below is one of the best (and earliest) quality clips of the show.  It was saved by one of that episode's guests, Suzanne Ciani.

A lot of the sounds and effects we take for granted now Suzanne shows Dave, who tries to make sense of it all.  Needless to say, he can't, but the audience can't get enough of funny Dave voices.  Despite it, Suzanne is a complete pro.

"Ya need the jumper cables?"
-Dave, in his "dumb guy" voice

As with most to-break moments, a fun fact:

Good Morning, Dave: The New Format

While the initial reviews for The David Letterman Show were kind, the ratings, well...they weren't good.  Affiliates, seeing a problem in the summer (one they wanted solved, one way or another by the fall) were nervous.  Let Fred Silverman, the man who made the move, tell it (as he does in the e-book "And Now..." by Brian Abrams):

"The affiliates were very impatient with the morning show.  The numbers, my God, when you got out of New York and in a couple other big cities, they were minuscule.  That forced us to shorten the show to 60 minutes."

The changes in the first week of August to the show were more than just the show's length and NBC's daytime line-up (viewers could now enjoy Wheel of Fortune, Password Plus, and Card Sharks after Dave.)  It also meant new producer Barry Sand turned the focus of the show entirely to Dave, and less of the "family of characters" that had previously joined Dave each morning.  With 30 fewer minutes to fill, this seems to make sense.

"...and so what I did was, and it was very painful, I had to ask a lot of very talented people to leave.  And a lot of 'em didn't come back for Late Night."
-Producer Barry Sand in "And Now..."

NBC staff announcer Bill Wendell joined the show (a recognizable voice that lasted with Dave until early in the CBS run), and a new opening montage (but same theme) were all part of the face lift.  While this wouldn't make much of a difference in terms of this show's performance, it did set the foundation for what would be much of the tone of Late Night with David Letterman.

Later this month - clips, pictures, and other artifacts begin to surface...

Summer Rain

Do you hear that?  Look outside!  Wow, it's still coming down out there.  Hope it clears up before we go.  I'm glad we're in here.  I think the movers are about to leave, though, so we should go.  Sure, I'll meet you outside in a little bit.

This place looks so empty inside now.  Well...it's...what?  No, I'm just looking around one last time.  

No, you're right.  It's a fresh start for us.  I know - everyone is a short drive away.  We're not going into another state or anything like that.  I'll call you when we get there, the phone is already set up.

(chuckles) All I can think of is how everyone grew up and I'm...I'm changing, too.  Wait - I'm just going to check upstairs one last time.

They're tears of joy, but it's...I don't know...OK, I'm coming downstairs.

It's nice how clear things are after the summer rain.  

(takes a deep breath) Are you ready?

Good Morning, Dave

It's not much fun living in this Dave-less world.  There are forever memories, and plenty o clips, but if the final Late Show montage with the Foo Fighters hit you like it did me, it was as final as anything else: all these comedy moments of your life, and now we're done.

Wait, who's "we?"  Dave might be done, but I'm not.  Why not use this space to explore that early oddity that rarely gets a mention, The David Letterman Show.

Footage of these episodes is relatively rare, but myself and other video collectors did our best then and now to preserve these gems until Dave wants to leave some extra cash behind and calls Shout Factory to put episodes on DVD.  

The 60 minute episodes are easier to find (perhaps due to impending cancellation) but the 90 minute episodes at the start are impossible.  Or are they?

Last year, the 2014 calendar matched 1980, so I watched what episodes were available as they happened.  For the 35th anniversary, I want to do the same...maybe not on the exact dates, but enough for you to get a feel of what was happening.

June 23rd, 1980: Gary Will might not have a VHS or Betamax available, but he has an audio cassette recorder.  And here we go:

Bob Sarlatte announces.  Notice that the audience is live for the voice over: probably a mistake.  Also notice that Edwin Newman reads the news in front of the audience.  That goes exactly as you'd think.  Even cooler to hear Gary himself laugh in the background.

Rough as it might be, enjoy.  As the Summer turns to Fall, I'll post more content to see how the show survives.

In The City

New York City, you ebb and flow.  You go from grimy to gritty to funky to artsy to gentrified to now...sleek.  There is good and bad in it all, and there are only, oh, a dozen cities on this Earth that have "it all" and you are one.  Springtime in New York, even better, yeah?  Of course, this view (or review, I guess) could have been created and judged in the dead of Winter...and I'm glad that's not the case.

It's been nearly 15 years since I've hit Fun City, and I don't have to get into the changes during that stretch: we're all familiar; we lived through it.  And, being an outsider from Dealville, who am I to say if what's new is better?

Discussions had, New York insisted suit removed, I walked.

Everyone was soaking it in, and why not?  Even more so, if you survive the winter, it's their rotation of life.  Dealville, it's a constant.  And admittedly it seemed difficult to not be an outsider, even Central Park.  Groups, couples were in their spots, dogs on their walk, overly-competitive softball games occurring for public entertainment.

This setting occurred during the first half of my trip, and then Mama Earth blustered and got grey enough for the attitude one from Goldland attributes to NYC...only I was wrong.  If there was an attitude, it would have confronted me one way or another, but it never did.  Consistantly: friendly or at least not negative, a lack of accosting attitudes, and general...well, fuck, what is the word?  Normal?  Is something even normal if you don't know what it is, or what to expect?  It sure seemed that way...and yet, I wanted a glimpse of the past.

So, remembering a subway stop is near the hotel, I looked at a map, randomly aimed at an area away from midtown, and got on the train.  Holy Shit - this one goes to Coney Island?  This is the train from The Warriors...

...except the subway was clean, and there was no graffiti, and there's no remnant of that era.  It's completely vanished.  Is it really, I thought?  Is there nowhere else left?  I felt utterly amazed that a city so large had so few windows back into that time.

I started to feel I made a mistake in my stop as I was roughly 6 or 7 blocks up on land and hadn't found a decent restaurant in the walk.  I was about to turn around when, after reading a happy hour menu, the hostess and I look (inadvertantly) at each other, square in the eyes.  Well, hello, I,,,you know what, yes, I'll stop here.  That, and I'd feel like a jerk if I kept walking.  And shit, the Happy Hour special was "Hamburger Taco and Beer, $5"  Sorry, anyone who really knows me knows I have to make that deal.

In all my solo meals on the trip, I was usually left to conversations with a friendly bartender.  If there was live music, that helped, but meals go at a quick clip in that plan.  Finally, and just my luck, the final night of my trip, was talk of a free comedy show.  And - it's right nearby!  Well I have time to kill, why not?

Saints be praised - there it was.  First good sign: I walk downstairs to the bar.  Immediately: an unidentifiable smell.  Mostly worn beer and booze.  It's just loud and rough in there, and they're blasting Gang of Four...YES.  YES!  It took days, and it might have even been accidental, but I found a slice of old New York.

The drinks were, well, they were weak.  And to be honest, they didn't taste good.  How anyone can make a drink taste bad is a lot of work, but what was I expecting in this place?  Had someone in there called themselves a "mixologist" I'd have left immediately.  Alas, the comedy show was delayed 30 minutes, and then delayed again, right to the point I was about to leave.  That's the moment I was told to go down to the basement: it's about to start.

That picture was my view from row 2.  I'm sitting in what appears to be re-purposed church pews.  They should have been tossed, but what's the difference?  I sit, and I sit...and, what, am I supposed to be here forever?  Is this a test?  Are all the "comedians" getting drunk?  High?  I had to break away.

On the train trip home, I slowly began to realize that what I wanted from NYC was what I got.  It was also all that was left: a taste.  A taste of those nutty times when life there was fast and cheap.  It's all that's left anymore, and riding that Coney Island train, my future fit perfectly with Joe Walsh's words, as The Warriors made it home:

But somewhere out on that horizon
Far away from the neon sky
I know there must be something better
I can't stay another night

A storm brewing on the strip

Maybe it could rain water...or maybe it's just a love storm.

The Good Fear

Of all the fear that the human psyche can handle, a lot of it is compartmentalized.  Do I fear the big one coming to tear down LA?  Of course, as much as I do Ol' Bess just up and disappearing when I'm ready to go somewhere.  There are greater fears, of course, but those are easily swatted down in usual methods.  "Yeah, but what are you gonna do?" and the moment dies.  "Well, I hope not." you say, and on to the next topic.

Then, ever rare...not the kind of thing you chase, but just comes up, is the good fear.  There's enough unknown out there to make one complacent, or even simply satisfied.  Being complacent isn't bad if you aren't harming anyone, and satisfaction is a good thing.  Trying major new things in a life, like a new job, can be such a thing.  We glide from one to the next and it all seems easy to everyone else, but it's a personal battle.  

Looking out for No. 1 in today's America is an unfortunate reality, and I'm not above it.  Watch that number grow, however, and it's hard not to up the energy.  We have wants, it's only natural.  Well, what if?  What if you did it?  What if you campaigned and strove, and dealed and there you are?  If you say what you mean, then isn't this the achieved goal?  It is.  Now...jump!

The good fear almost comes over like buyer's remorse.  Oh, things are fine.  Look at the bright side: there's plenty happening, and it's true.  But what of the call-up?  The sign that you're moving on up, a la George Jefferson, climbing the ladder of success rung by rung?  The patience to wait, hope against hope, "see what happens."  Anyone can do that with life, and in a lot of instances, that's the less-stress way to live.  You won't hear any argument from me.  So many of us here in Pacific Gold have to do it ourselves.  That's the thrill of the gold hunt: you find some.  You hope it isn't Fool's Gold.  You believe the bartender and don't expect him to pour you a Reno Gold (a kid's version of the cocktail for those reading at home).  

Sure, I'm afraid.  But it's good, because it's wonder.  A look to the future and saying "This."  Only one way to find out...

Faces in the Crowd at Super Bowl XIV

Lover of old TV that I am, I continually sit amazed when watching old sporting events.  I notice the difference in shots, in graphics, and lack of commercials of course.  But the thing that hits me the most are the crowd shots.  Today's fan, those who decide to attend live pro events, usually sit with 1 or 2 pieces of officially licensed merchandise on themselves...sometimes more given the weather.  Finding someone NOT doing so these days is a rarity.  Yet go back in time, and you'll see much the opposite.  The people at the games were fans: their mere attendance alone the proof.

Since the 1979 Los Angeles Rams are the official team of Pacific Gold, I wanted to look back at their big moment in the sun: Super Bowl XIV.  It's been 35 years, and with the next Super Bowl upon us, why not take that look back in time to the crowd?

 (Seriously, does it get any more gold?)

CBS covered the game, and stayed relatively nuts and bolts on the coverage.  Post-play shots before the instant replay were usually of a player.  Occasionally, a very wide crowd shot where you can't make out anyone or anything in particular.  But every now and then,,,

Check out the front row: suits!  In 1980, no less.  New Jersey native (and Rams coach) Ray Malavasi gets "good luck" from Clifton, NJ.  And: only 1 Bradshaw jersey.

The Rams just intercepted Bradshaw, but as you can see from the men on the bottom right, this was not to their liking.  Hefty man in the brown shirt wearing shades while in the shade...because there are deals to be made no matter the time of day.

He woke up in the morning.  He checked his hair: perfect.  I'll probably have a drink or two at the game, he thought.  Maybe I'll even be on TV.  That would be cool, he reasoned, as he opened his closet.  Doesn't seem like a solid color day.  Seems like horizontal stripes.  Brown will do.

Steeler fans were easier to identify in these shots: plenty of black and gold.  Their noise, that of celebrating a 1st down, seems to mildly annoy those in front of them.  That, or they giving the grimace of "will you listen to the shit we've had to put up with all game long?"

I neglected to mention the other fun curio of old TV: the progress of technology.  Almost looks like two old IBM mice for headphones.  I think you have to wear a winter hat when wearing those, too: they likely weigh 5 pounds.

We're well into the 3rd quarter when we finally get the first Andy Sidaris "babe" shot of the game.  They're already ahead of the Urban Cowboy trend.  

I wanted to say so much about the expressions in this photo but the biggest thing is the timing: this was a crowd shot taken during a play.  At first I chalked this up to bad TV, but on second thought, it's so rare to see the crowd's reactions while something is happening...and not during a replay - during live TV.  Sure, most are mugging for the camera, but the man in the tan jacket has no need for it.  What's happening?  Everyone stop and...

After Pittsburgh won the game, the traditional celebration was modest.  No confetti; all in the locker room.  And once CBS cameras were moving, people tried to sneak in the shot.  But who would be flippant enough to just shove a microphone into Bradshaw's face when Musburger is interviewing him on national TV?

I mean...who is that egocentric to make himself part of...

Oh right, Sid Hartman.  Just getting a 1 on 1 interview with another close, personal friend.

Unfortunately, Andy Kaufman is still dead

Andy Kaufman lived 35 years.  He has been dead nearly that long.  Yet...Andy's legacy lives on.  As is the case with most entertainers, performances transcend time.  Andy's is a different case: there are people who think he didn't die at all.  It would be something he would do, wouldn't he?

For the first 10 years of his death, this statement was said, almost wistfully; a roundabout remembrance of a talent gone too soon.  It culminated in an NBC special about Andy, and then it ended....until 1999.  '99 was Kaufman's best year since, oh, 1981.  A movie (which, sadly, was not successful) and two books shared the life and inside tales of the man.  It was at a sneak preview screening of Man on the Moon that I noticed the narrative had changed.  Bob Zmuda was in attendance and took questions from the audience.  Someone asked "So, is Andy still alive?"  The audience laughed, and Bob said something along the lines of "you never know," and further stoked the fire.

Maybe this was just to help promote the movie, I don't know.  But weird for him to say...

And in this internet age, the rumor, however inane, continues to resurface like a mushroom.  Andy is still alive!  Andy is going to come back 20 years after his death!  No, 25!  Wait, I meant 30 years!  Hey, that gave Zmuda another chance to remember his friend and make a few bucks.

Did I say make a few bucks?  No...this is about legacy.  A legacy that could be simply maintained with a website of clips and writings, shared anecdotes...or, in this case, a book of such items.  Of course, such a book was already published in 1999, so 15 years later, let's do it again.  Maybe Bob made up more stuff - joke's on us!  I bet Andy would have loved that.  Hey, I bet you and Andy would have even DONE a joke like that!

In the book, Zmuda states that this was written not for attention or personal gain, which is the kind of thing you'd hear from a Beatles tribute band in a casino or any other celebrity impersonator.    Having not spoken in private to Zmuda, I don't know if his love of Kaufman has reached Robby Krieger levels...I met him at a bar once where, dressed as Tony Clifton, he entertained us all.

In a recent interview with the Washington Post, Zmuda states "He said to keep a lid on it for 30 years.  It's 30 years now...What I'm doing is sending a telegram to Andy: it's time to come in from the cold."

(Telegram?!  I'm dying)

The same article quotes Andy's brother, Michael, who wonders why people continue such "conspiracy theories" about his sibling.  "They might be attention-hungry, or more likely in need of money.  Who knows?"

We know.  In Andy's day, we (the audience) were sometimes the last to know, but we all know now.  We've known for a while.  And we're being told the same joke once again.

Fear on Saturday Night Live: Hazy Memories

As with any holiday, traditions come to mind.  For Halloween, beyond The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and various horror movies, I watch the Halloween '81 episode of Saturday Night Live.  You know, the one hosted by Donald Pleasence.  Oh, you don't remember that episode?  Maybe you remember the musical guest: Fear.

Here and there you can find clips of this show, particularly of their second performance.  But what interests me most is the differing tales of what happened that night.  30+ years is a long time, and yet the memories seem to change.  You forget something, roughly 50% comes back to you, and then that's the reality.  My sister thinks one 4th of July there was a fire in the yard.  In truth, a fallen bottle rocket set off a fire no larger than the rocket itself, and I put it out quickly (and with minimal dramatics) with a garden hose.  But ask her about it now, and you'd think the house was in danger.  There - do you grasp the concept?

Let's compare people's memories: a video interview with John Joseph of the Cro-Mags (who still looks and talks like a longshoreman), and multiple descriptions of the day's events by Ian MacKaye (One even came from NPR...one of the 20 shows they have where people just talk in front of an audience with acoustic guitar and mandolin music).  Both were there that night.  I'll also include information from the 1985 book Saturday Night by Doug Hill and Jeff Weingrad, and the book Mr. Mike by Dennis Perrin.  For magazines, let's go even further back: a November 1981 Billboard Magazine, and a New York Magazine article from November of 1981 as well, written by Roger Director.

Why the punks were invited to "slam dance"

Mr. Mike: Not only did O’Donoghue want Fear, he wanted to project the chaos of a punk club into America’s living rooms, and to this end he and Belushi brought in some forty skinheads from Washington DC to slam dance and stage dive while the band performed.

Saturday Night: Belushi and O’Donoghue had arranged for thirty-five or so of Fear’s rowdy fans to take a bus up from Washington so they could slam dance in 8H as the band played.

John Joseph: "I bump into Ian MacKaye and he's like 'Yo!  Fear is playing on Saturday Night Live tonight.  You know, show up at Rockefeller Center at this time.  Everybody's gonna get in!'"

Ian MacKaye: "I got a call around 10 in the morning...and a voice said 'Lorne Michaels office, please hold.'  And I had no idea what that meant."

Now, the reason I wrote the example above was for this very quote.  In print recollections as well, Ian drops Michaels' name.  Lorne's produced, what, 88% of all SNL episodes?  But he wasn't there for this episode, and I kind of think Ian forgot and just assigned Lorne's name to it.  In fact, it was that incorrect first fact that lead me to wonder what else might be wrong.  (This is unfortunate, I know,  Shit, I was just a kid when this was on the air, but if you don't remember something, no one will fault you for saying you don't know)

The dress rehearsal

Why have the punks also slam for the dress rehearsal?  You can think of reasons why and why not to, but...

Ian MacKaye: "We were talking and I said 'Listen.  Don't blow it.  Because, if we blow it, we won't be on the live show."  So we're dancing, and we're trying to keep it cool, but someone knocked into a camera and it fell over.  It was an accident.  So we're led back into the Green Room and they said 'You have just caused $100,000 worth of damage.'  So they locked us in the Green Room."

John Joseph: "There was a piano in there, we pulled all the strings out.  We were fucking...we get out, slam dancing in the room.  Went out in the hallway, broke the sinks.  Fucked the whole place up."

Saturday Night: During dress rehearsal, some of the slam dancers got carried away, cursing and tumbling off the set, banging into one cameraman and nearly colliding with some of the others.  The song was stopped in the middle to cool them down.  When dress ended, members of the technical crew complained vehemently to Davey Wilson, and Wilson told Dick that the crew was threatening to walk off the show unless the slam dancers were dropped.  Dick told him the dancers would go on, but he went up to see them in the Green Room to lay down some rules.  O’Donoghue went with him, but only to watch.  Dick didn't mention it, but for the air show, during Fear’s song, he took the precaution of turning off all the mikes in the studio except the singer’s.

Ian also states that "they" said the punks would NOT go on, but then Belushi said HE wouldn't make his cameo in the show.  Either way, it's on.

As arranged during the dress rehearsal, Fear plays their first song, "I Don't Care About You" without the punks.

Each time I view this episode, I get a sense of anticipation.  I can only imagine some of those involved dreading this segment, but there was no going back.

"Hotel accommodations for most guests of Saturday Night were furnished by Berkshire Place."  I truly hope Fear was put at this hotel and not somewhere else.  They deserve it.  I envision Lee walking up to that couple and asking if he can join them for dinner.

Showtime for the punks

Ian MacKaye: "Actually, there were fights breaking out between audience members and the kids."

John Joseph: "Even before the band played, people are just fucking, you know, slamming into each other."

(Donald, doing his best to introduce Fear and warn the audience)

John Joseph: "You know, Fear comes on and it was like BOOM!"

(Fear begins "Beef Baloney")

John Joseph: "John Belushi's going nuts."

There is conflicting evidence on whether Belushi DID dance or decided at the last minute not to.  You'd think a camera would be trying to find him if he was in the crowd.

(Punks enjoying "New York's Alright if You Like Saxophones")

Saturday Night: (Dick) heard somebody yell “New York sucks!” and saw one of the dancers heading toward the singer’s microphone.  Frantically, Dick got up and ran as fast as he could into the control room and shouted at Dave Wilson “Fade to black!”

Ian MacKaye: "You'll hear one moment, where the microphone stand falls into the crowd, you'll hear, very clearly someone shout 'NEW YORK SUCKS!'  And that voice belongs to me."

John Joseph: "Ian MacKaye grabs the mic and he's like 'Fuck New York!  New York sucks!'  On Saturday Night Live!  And Lee Ving's immediately like 'Ah, he doesn't really mean that.'"

Lee's actual quote was "He's just kidding.  We want to make friends."

Lee then introduces "Let's Have a War" with "For anyone who voted...this is for Republicans and Democrats alike.  1-2-3-4 1-2-3-4!"

The giant pumpkin, part of that night's set, is being led onto the stage the very moment the screen cuts to a pre-taped segment from the season premiere.  Fear's segment ends, and everyone's memories clash:

Saturday Night: When the slam dancers, supposedly berserk, saw the stage lights go out and realized they were no longer on-air, they immediately stopped dancing and peacefully walked off set.

Mr. Mike: In the studio, Fear ceased playing and the skinheads walked off the set. 

Ian MacKaye: "As we were lead off the set, Eddie Murphy said "FUCK YOU!"  We were then locked into a producer's room, where we were making phone calls.  It seems like a thing to do."  

John Joseph: "Security realized this ain't their dancing, these motherfuckers are fighting, they came out to the dance floor to, like, get us out of the studio.  But we was like 'Yo.'  People were, like, slamming them to the ground.  The head of Security gets on the mic and is like 'Everyone has to get out of here!  That's it!  The show's over!  We want you guys outta here!  So my friend picks up a pumpkin, cause it's Halloween, and he just fucking launches the pumpkin, smacks the fuckin' guy right in the head, the guy fuckin' falls on the ground, and the next thing, that's when the shit hit the fuckin' fan."

Was Ian up in the office at that point?  Why didn't this anecdote make the books?  Hard to say, huh?

The Aftermath

John Joseph: "Finally, the NYPD shows up, with billy clubs, fuckin' like, fucking...people up and we're like 'Oh shit!"

Ian MacKaye: "After being told that chargers were going to be pressed, we were then let go.  I had to pay for parking, which was expensive.  But no charges were pressed."

If this truly was O'Donoghue's and Belushi's idea, the charges would have involved THEM, and NBC likely wouldn't want that out in the open.  Speaking of, it didn't take long for the beacon of journalism that is the New York Post to report on its findings.

New York Post's "inside" story   

Saturday Night: A few days later, (Dick) was further incensed when the New York Post reported, completely inaccurately, that there had been a riot in the studio causing $200,000 worth of damage.  In truth, a plastic camera-case lock worth something like $40 had been broken.

Mr. Mike: “inside” sources spoke of “a riot, mindless, out-of-control destruction of property.”  “This was a life-threatening situation.  They went crazy.  It’s amazing that no one was killed.”

John Joseph: "The next day, the New York Post, it says 'Riot on the set of Saturday Night Live causes, like, a quarter of a million dollars worth of damage" 

The book Live from New York - Ebersol: Anyway, the total damage that was done in the studio was about $2,500.

Ian MacKaye: "The $100,000 camera was just a $20 piece of plastic."

Billboard Magazine:  "As far as we can tell, there has been no $200,000 worth of damages.  We had to pay $40 worth of labor penalties.  That was the extent of it." - SNL spokesman Peter Hamilton

Billboard Magazine: "In point of fact, nobody was hurt and nothing was smashed." - Lee Ving, who, according to Billboard, was "unaware of any controversy until the Post story was read to him."  

New York Magazine: "I’m really not mad at the band.  I’m mad at those kids that were slamming." - Ebersol.

(The actual headline from the Post: "Fear Riot Leave Saturday Night Glad to be Alive.")

Final Thought

John Joseph: [C]ause we was just kicking camera over, screens, anything that looked like it costs money...Bam!  Next!"

Well, in the words of Robert Evans, there are three sides to every story: Your side, my side, and the truth.  And no one is lying.  Memories shared serve each differently.

The Waiting Game

It seems another day in Goldland: talking deals, with statuses and plans laid before everyone.  The waitress was appeased with a polite smile and large tip, so I had all the time in the world to continue my focus.  Industry speak only lasted so long because this time of year, this kind of place, you get to what you desire: the action.

The man across from me knew my lingo, and perhaps even more so.  Conference TV contracts, polls, the lines.  "That time in Laughlin, after I cashed in from the Belmont, I said what the hell, drove up there..."  You'd be hard pressed to even get a glance from 99% of the bevy of beauties or oh-so-serious shades-wearing crowd with that kind of talk.  But here I am, delicious meal and drink in front of me, nodding, taking it all.

Pleasantries abound, quick eye contact made around me (the kind where neither acknowledge it) and back to the subject.   The World Series is over (its result continued junk shots to Dodger fans) so there is simply one mission.  I've soon realized it isn't even so much about all deals happening, a victorious parlay, or even a push.  It's about the deal itself.  Ask anyone what's more fun: having gold or the day you find it, and the answer is as plain as the brown shades on your face.

Done there, we wander up Camden.  I had little time to discuss "work" as it is, but there's always time for action.  I returned to find that my surroundings were still stuck on discount costumes and planning events that, a week later, they likely won't recall.  Well, carry on.  I'll continue the hunt.

"I got the job done.  Kind of."  You know by the description alone there's a story.  Go for it...

A great moment for the future while stuck in neutral

Sitting in this monitoring cell, the sun begins to blind while those outside squawk their jolly thoughts.  Deal making in progress, however, which reminds me...

The Kansas City Royals deserve your respect

It was all but set coming into this weekend: Kansas City was in there for the first time in nearly 30 years.  If not, it would be Seattle, for the first time in 13 years.  Instead, we are given the encore of a season's-worth of Jeter tributes, nearly all written by old, overfed oafs.  Fox did the same for their afternoon game, a Yankees-Red Sox match-up that was last relevant  in May.  The Red Sox also gave him a "tribute" inasmuch a reminder to its fan base to allow it - we just won the title last year, so temper your alcohol intake, please?  Even for an hour?

Beast or Burden

I'm old now, you know, so perspective creeps in when a "new season" begins on the tube.  The viewing experience is so different these days, and yet we still see the same concept.  This is because of money, sums greater than many may ever know.  The other side of the scale is time, which is tight.  My reaction is quicker now: going for the gut.  "I like the set, but that writing..."  Hey, I made it to the first commercial break.  Sometimes, even more.  Why eat a meal you don't want?  I don't have to look far in any direction to find a junkie.   

I've got it bad, and I've got it good

It was a fine, even entertaining Saturday of college football, but the more research I have since completed, the more I see a slew of even larger games comin' at ya next weekend.  That's all well and good, but when the forecast for next Saturday is a Santa Ana Son of a 93??!!  Look, I appreciate these random hot breaths from Mama Earth every now and then, but this is supposed to be a day of successful relaxation.  Cooperation is the word; isn't that all we ask for in life?  From the weekend weirdos that populate Beverly Drive, the hi-fi in the background, hell, even the parlays...we're keeping up our end of the deal.

Looks like the mug could use a refill.  Back to it.

There's plenty to do here!

Hold still...let me take the picture.

All right.  Should we try the Golden Gate?  Maybe they have some pinball games you can play.  Dad just wants to spend a little time on the black jack tables.

Sure, we can get some food.  Whatever you'd like.  How about a shrimp cocktail at-- I know you had one yesterday.  Hey, how about a nice prime rib!  That's even better...I think we can get a hamburger.  OK, let's go for hamburgers.

You know, a hamburger does sound good.  Maybe they have some in the Golden Nugget.  Let's take a look inside.  Follow me.  Yeah, there's...I know where the restaurant is, I'm just going to ask this cocktail waitress.  Excuse me, are you still doing the black jack tourna-- OK, I know!  Sorry, you are?  Great.

Two please.  Thank you.  Non smoking if you have it.  Oh, she said you can't bring in the soda.  Don't worry, I'll get you another.  Thanks, I'll...oh, you don't have that.  Is 7UP OK?  Yeah, 7UP and I'll have...do you have Busch?  I'll take a Busch.

Do you have to look so bored?  What?  Nothing to do here?  We just have to find it.  They have to have stuff for kids.  Otherwise, why-

Thank you.  Yeah, he'll have a hamburger and fries.  I'll have...do you still have the special for the T-Bone steak and eggs?  Oh, for lunch, sure, medium-rare...yeah, baked potato is fine.  Uh...Thousand Island.  Thank you.

I tell you what.  After lunch, we'll call information and see which casino has pinball.  I'll give you a roll of quarters.  But you have to promise me...Donny...promise me that you won't play the slots.  If they catch you, they toss you out and they don't tell me.  We don't need a repeat of what happened at Vegas World yesterday, right?

Yeah, I understand, but if you didn't like the show at Circus Circus, it makes no sense to go back there.  It isn't going to be any better.  The Hacienda has some?  That's great, thank you, ma'am.  We'll try there after lunch for some pinball.

Hey...how about that?  Looks good!  Excellent, thank you.  If you have A-1, sure.  And, could I get a cup of decaffeinated coffee?  Sanka's fine.  Thank you.

I'm hungry, I bet you are, too.  Mmmm.  Here we go.  Does your hamburger taste good?  We'll get our strength up and then we'll go to the Hacienda.  Nothing to do here?  Come on - look around!

This time, for real?

(The 1979 Los Angeles Rams, Pacific Gold's official team)

Though it's been 20 years since Dealville had an NFL team, we've heard bullshit from other teams over the years ever since.  First it was the Seahawks, then the Colts, then the Jaguars, and most recently the Vikings (even on this blog, no less). Each time, the city was used as bait for stadium negotiations, forcing the public to turn their head and cough up the bucks to ensure "their" team stayed in town.  Some less than others, but the conclusion was the same: no NFL team.  Those of us living here simply moved on, while so many transplants meet at designated bars to root for their old hometown's team.  (Fan-dom never leaves, but the town's residents?  Goodbye.)

I think I can speak for the majority of the sports fans in this town saying that receiving any of the aforementioned teams would have been a perk...a nice addition...but it wouldn't mean much.  Just another way-station until the team's owner is dissatisfied with the "stadium situation" and they leave.  The Raiders?  No one here wants all the baggage that comes with the team: their fans, their level of success the last 20 years being a very LA reason, but it's mainly because of LA's other team...the first who really left in 1980...

Look, I won't lie.  My arrival out here in Dealville was a constant quest for LA Rams gear: hats, glasses, you name it.  Everyone I asked (NFL fans) never seemed to mind the loss of the Raiders.  But the Rams...it was as if they lost a love and it moved to Orange County (can't blame them for not following them) and then it's gone.  

But then Rams owner (and Burt Reynolds imposter) Stan Kroenke buys land on the Hollywood Park site.  (Name ready, too)  Each passing month hasn't seen an end to this trend: a return of the Rams.  This week, Inglewood's Mayor Butts went on KJLH (which is, I've been told, is a radio station in town), and said what he could tell the public.  "We are working diligently to make this happen."  He said the official world likely wouldn't be until the 2015 owners meeting, but we all know this gets done...spending all of this season handing out envelopes to all other owners.

This post just might be a historical document of pre-LA Ram insanity...or just plain insanity.  Nothing new around here.

Hail to the...uh...

With the removal of the Washington Redskins trademark this week, sports fans are hearing and reading a lot of hot sports takes on the issue.  Players say it should be changed, players and oafish members of the media say it shouldn't, former players mock the whole idea.  But what I haven't heard that much about in the din of opinions is that of the fans of the team.  Fans buy the merchandise, follow the team, likely say the name more than anyone else in public.  Are any giving up their fandom?  Sticking with the team?

Well...I'm a fan of the team.  They won Super Bowl XVII (lord, I'm old) and I said they're my new favorite team.  Had Miami won, well, Go Dolphins.  But I was a kid and that's what I said.  Unknowingly, I had integrity: I WAS a Redskins fan, and have been ever since.  Simple as that.  It helped that my parents followed different teams, and I could never get interested in the bumbling franchise in the dome.

So, when you're a kid, you get a lot of merchandise as a gift.  A Redskin maroon satin jacket.  (Hello 80's!)  Redskin caps, jerseys, knock-off T shirts (which we'll see again, it seems), trash cans.  If they had it, I was for it.  Then one year I got this as a gift:

This was the NFL's idea to market to kids...maybe even those not interested in football.  Each team's doll is literal: the New York Jets is a cartoon plane wearing a helmet.  So, they went all-in and in my childlike mind, I liked it as I did the rest.  He's smiling because yay, football!  He's not "stoic" like the guy on the helmet, which I took to be the guy in the anti-pollution ad (who, I found out later, was actually Italian...but that's showbiz).

Move forward a year or two, and in Social Studies class a flighty substitute teacher talked to us about how cultural norms change through time.  "Stanford used to be called the Indians!  All these things say Indians at the school.  What happens to that stuff?"  Being a sports nut, I offer that it becomes a new word I'd learned but can't spell, "memorabilia."  "YES!  It's all the past."  It makes me wonder if the Redskins would be changed...but considering I only read the Sports and Cartoons sections of the newspaper, I had no idea if this was actually being discussed.

A successful decade for the team culminated in Super Bowl XXVI at the old Dump Dome.  Through wheeling and dealing, I'd be attending the game.  My clothing of choice was a simple Redskins sweatshirt with a supposed old team photo.  The logo on the shirt was the size of a quarter, and I feared I should make a bigger deal...even if I was in the end zone, upper deck.  For every band-wagon fan there, you'd see an old guy in the full-on Native American gear.  What also tempered my outfits were the known facts of a planned protest by Native Americans in front of the stadium.  And believe me, you couldn't miss it entering the dome.

Game day, my father and I deftly tried to pass the group and walk up the concourse.  Soon, I was accosted by a young protester, Native American, and larger  than me.  All that was showing was my cap, but that was enough.  "Hey!"  I'm grabbed by the jacket.  "Redskins are gonna lose."  Before I can respond, my father (not a sensitive man in nearly any way) grabs me and yells "Go play some bingo."  A fight is avoided due to the sheer amount of people getting into the stadium but the whole event (the accosting and my dad's response) stayed with me for weeks.  I'm just a fan...am I doing something wrong?  What should I do differently?  My next hat purchase was a 60's styled R with two arrows at the bottom.  I still wear it and like the look, but no one knows what team it is.  And yes, I guess it means my dad is a jackass in nearly any situation.

The following season, Washington played at Kansas City, and the anticipated protest arrived in full force.  After that season, however, you didn't hear about this issue or see as many protests.  This was aided by the fact, I think, that the team turned to absolute dogshit when Joe Gibbs retired.  They aren't good, they aren't on TV, and it's put to the back burner of cultural issues.

20 years later, it ramped up again, louder than ever.  Why the quiet and then the ramp-up?  I'll never know.  The trademark removal this week isn't the tipping point, because if you're expecting either Redskins owner Dan Snyder or NFL Kommissar Roger Goddell to "make the right decision" about anything you're out of your mind.

So do I think the name should be changed?

Sure.  Change it back then, change it now, change it five years from now.  My question back is: We're not going to have a STUPID name going forward, are we?

The Washington Federals.  What the fuck?  No!  We tried that once already...

The Washington Americans.  Well...all NFL teams are American.

Do you see what I'm getting at here?  There would be a new problem, on a much smaller scale, of course...but a problem.  If the new name was awful, people would STILL WEAR REDSKINS STUFF...maybe even call them that forever.  Can't you see some middle-aged guy?  "Well, I grew up in Wheaton and I've always called them the Redskins.  I'm not changing."

My suggestion: the Washington Razorbacks.

• Same team initials.  
• You can even keep the "R" helmets from the 70s (though the feathers would be debated).

• The offensive line is still referred to as the Hogs, another tie-in.
• The name is nearly as long as the current name.

The Washington Razorbacks.  Love them Hogs.  Go Hogs!  

There...everyone happy?  What - Arkansas fans are pissed off?  Eh...

"I think we're on the right spot"

(Editor's Note: while looking through a box of paperback books at a yard sale in Los Angeles, Trip Darvez found what appeared to be the diary of a teenage girl.  "How much are the books?" he asked, before finding out for just a quarter, he could share this diary with the Pacific Gold audience.  As a matter of disclosure, he also bought a copy of The Deep by Peter Benchley.  

"This isn't an attempt to invade anyone's privacy; I couldn't find anyone's full name.  It's also written on what appears to be the family moving to California.  The first part I can make out is from Iowa.  All grammar has been reprinted intact.")

6/13/77  

I think we're in the middle of the USA right now.  This part of the drive has been boring.  I hope the whole ride isn't like this.  I wonder if we have to stop somewhere but we can't because there's nowhere to go.  Dad is at least letting us move around the radio a bit.  I missed the end of Shawn Cassidy's song which he knows I LOVE!  Mike said he had to hear the scores of something but it wasn't even the right game or whatever.

I wonder what you do around here in Demoin.  (Des Moines -ed.)  I don't know if we're in it.  Dad let me sing along to You Make Me Believe in Magic.  At least I have the back seat to myself.  That's what Mom keeps saying.  I thought we were on Highway 80 but it's really 35.  I don't know how you figure this out.  Oh well, we have a ways to go before Kansas City.  I don't want to drive after dinner but it's staying light out for a long time.

6/14/77

We're in Kansas City and relaxing a bit today.  It's really nice outside.  Last night I think we were all kind of tired.  I was but I couldn't fall asleep.  I had my little earphone in and Mom didn't notice.  We ended up driving around a bit just looking for a restaurant that looked good and now it's kind of hard to tell if we're going the right way.

Okay now I'm writing later but we are lost.  I don't want to say anything but mom and dad keep fighting back and forth.  The only other map isn't of where we are I guess.  We went over to ask someone at a gas station and he was so stupid.  "Where you off to?"  Dad kept saying California and the number of the road but then Mom said "Henry, don't tell a stranger that stuff" I want to just hide and die.

It's now later and I think we're on the right spot.  We had dinner in Topeka, they were nice, and I thought we'd stay there at a Howard Johnsons but dad wanted to drive more.  He is unexplainable!

We're in Junction City.  I think we all want to just sleep.  I'm tired and if it's like this the rest of the move I'll be tired then, too.

6/15/77

Just went to Silina (Salina, -ed.)  This radio station we have on is good.  Even Mike and I are singing the same song.  We can tell Dad doesn't like it!  Har har har.

It's now in the afternoon and we'll get into Colorado.  I hope we see the Rocky Mountains.  The drive so far has been so boring.  I thought we'd stop but we haven't since some random town from the highway and all there was is a gas station.  Dad got me a Reese's Peanut butter cup.  I think he's in a better mood now because we're just driving a lot.

OK we're way later than we thought.  I think he thought we'd make it earlier.  We wanted to see Pueblo but it's taking longer because of the farm roads.  I woner who lives in these places.  It's getting dark but it said Pueblo is close.  I bet we'll eat and then sleep.  I hope we get to see the mountains tomorrow.  Good night!

6/16/77

It's supposed to rain and be muggy!  So instead of going west we're going up to Denver!  Then we'll go through I guess.  Puebo and Colorado Springs were fine.

We're in Denver and I think we're going to be here for the rest of the day!  Mom kept saying that Dad needs a break and we all do I think.  We're looking for a hotel that's not too expensive but then we can go around and stuff.  It's pretty here!

Well it's warm but it's raining and it's hard to get around here.  I think we will go see a movie or something.  Maybe we can see Star Wars again.  I have to leave this in our room.

Okay now it's nighttime and we did see Star Wars again.  I like it.  The radio is playing that song from Fleetwood Mac and I'm starting to have that as my new favorite song.  So the TV says the storm is bad through where we were gonna go so we're going to go north a bit.  I swear Dad better make sure he knows where he's going.

There is a midnight movie The Rolling Stones and Mike tried to go see it.  Good luck, dork.

6/17/77

OK we're going north and we're in Fort Collens but at least it's pretty here.  If there's nothing to do but not drive in rain at least it's pretty.  Mike isn't talking to Mom or Dad.  Did you really think they'd let you out?  They won't let me out!

So now we're in Wyoming?  I didn't know we'd be here and I guess now we're heading west.  Mom said "Why are we in Wyoming!  Turn around!" but then Dad found the road.  I had a hamburger and a milkshake.  I should have not eaten the fries.  I'm just sitting in the car all day and getting fat.

Some guy on the radio is giving away a Shawn Cassidy poster!  I can't even call and even if I did, where would they send it?

We're still CONFUSED.  We passed through Shyann (Cheyenne - ed.) and somewhere else I don't remember and they guy on the radio keeps saying Casper but the map says we're not in Casper.  The only thing I know is that the drive is totally boring now.  I guess we could have gone to Yellowstone but we're already screwed up on our road right now.

We're having dinner in Evanston Wyoming!  I asked people if they know Evanston Illinois and none of them did.  Don't you think I should get some free money for that?  I

6/18/77

Oops I had to stop writing yesterday because the food was there.

Guess tomorrow is Father's Day and we'll be in Utah to start the day.  The route back doesn't have to go to Salt Lake City, so we wen't around and are in Jordan for the night.  You can see some mountains here but it's still Dullsville.

We're driving past the Salt Lake, at least it's nice out here.  We asked Dad what he wanted for Father's Day and he said "Get the hell out of Utah!"  Hahaha!  Mom was mad.  So much for Father's Day in Lake Tahoe.

OK we were going to stop in Elko for the night but now I don't think so.  We're in Nevada now and I'm SICK of the car!  Dad keeps trying to ask other people about the storm but they all look at him like he's crazy.  Like everyone else on this trip!  PLEase GOD, can we get to California?  Even if we're theyre forever to get there, get me out of the car!

(The following page was ripped, and we could not discern where this trip was on the page.  The back of the page wrote about Sacramento and then San Francisco, so it is possible to theorize that they went west on 80 through Reno into California. -ed.)

Location, Location, Location

Check it: I'm writing this and it's One Hundred and One degrees (101) outside.  Sweet mercy me, that is hot.  It's hotter than it gets in September when lunkheads start to talk about "Fall" around here and you walk outside and the sun smirks down at you.  "Nope!"  You didn't even get to ask it a question.  It's terse glare consumes all you do that day.  This is twice the high of a large majority of the country, but I temper my consideration in trading my location.  It fucking snowed in Denver the other day.  What in the...

Your author isn't writing about the climate.  I'm writing about location.  I viewed a recent movie where the shy (or...likely disordered) boy moves to a new place.  In a stunning turn of events, one of his neighbors is a sweet girl, one that may look like the others in that town, but her behavior is rooted in complete positives.  I'm aware that you've probably seen this movie, or a situation like it.  Maybe it was the film "A Nerdy Writer Writes About His Daydreams at 15" which as I understand it was released by Fox Searchlight (under different nom de plumes) every other year since 2001.

I started becoming an annoying viewer maybe 30 minutes in, and roped Smiley into my complaints.  "Look, he's purposely ignoring her!  She's on a platter!  What the fuck?"  Yeah, it's a movie.  My street beef wasn't that I knew what was going to occur; we all know where this path ends.  It's not that the real life likelihood of this tango was non-existent.  It was that we knew what good fortune this dunce had in store, and it was barely mentioned by any character his age (and if so, it was a slam): it was the location.  And his luck, of course, but he wouldn't have that "luck" if he wasn't in the right location.

Does where you live cause trouble?  Geography or home?  Does going on a vacation mean leaving a place where most people don't vacation?  Does your school warm you with asbestos?  Did your grandpappy buy land somewhere for next to nothing and now everyone realizes what he did long ago?

Does your office have a window?  Is it near the new girl?  Is it next to the new girl?   Is that how you met?

Did you stay in the left lane?  Did you get an aisle seat at the stadium so you could catch the foul ball?

From the inconsequential to the life-changing (for better or worse) I arrived at the realization that skill and logic only run on one track: location.  Sometimes it makes it easy...seem like that "luck" I mentioned above.  Sometimes it makes it harder...or appear impossible.  Where you are and how you're feeling...I guess that makes up the gold quotient, huh?

Piling it on

Back in the old days of this blog, I wrote about how the gigantic portions of restaurants and society at large was too much for my slim cowpoke body.  And this continues to be true, but there has recently been a change in my living situation that altered everything.  I don't know if it was sudden so much as it was the 3rd time in as many weeks where I was told I looked thin (more than usual and/or healthy) that I started to review my weekday eating schedule:

Breakfast: I'm asked on a regular basis from Smiley if I want to "eat breakfast" with Sweet Pea...this is usually limited to 4 spoon-fulls of cereal while trying to occupy her attention span.  An orange or something else can be brought to work, though not eaten leisurely as one would surmise.

Lunch: Did I use the word "leisurely?"  While I am fortunate to visit everyone at home due to sheer LA Luck, and having "lunch" with the Pea is an absolute highlight, my own eating time is condensed to roughly 5 minutes.  You couldn't even enjoy a beer in that amount of time.  Not that I'd know, of course.

Cocktail Hour: "Do you want to watch her while you have a snack?"  Another non-question question, as I get in as many chips, crackers, or handfuls of popcorn I can while playing on the floor with the little lady.

7:45/8PM: "Are you exhausted?  I bet you feel like cooking and making an elaborate dinner from scratch!   You don't?"  Who would?  And, be that as it may, whatever's easiest to eat, to get the job done, there it is.  Tired, I dream of an extravagant steak dinner.  And repeat.

Beyond becoming Potsy, I'm not sure how to properly solve this dilemma.  Snacking helps but only to exist in a "next?" kind of assembly line.  There's a lunch wagon that sneaks between Rodeo and Beverly, but one can only eat so many burritos.  It's a problem to word carefully around here, too: tell someone you lack energy and they'll give you Daffy Dust.

     

TV Sleuthdom and its expectations

Last week, I had a...shall we say "spirited discussion" with a co-worker on the HBO series True Detective.

(and if you haven't watched the show but plan to, you might not want to read this post)

He said he enjoyed the show but thought the writing was bad.  Pressed for examples for some insight, he added that the crime and ultimate resolution was "like Law & Order: SVU."  Now, if you know me, you know saying such a comment is a heavy insult.  You could find deeper characters in what's left of the Sunday comics section of your newspaper than any of the L&O shows.  But I did my best (read: a poor job) of calming down and then heard this key nugget:

"There were too many twist and plot things that made me think it would go another way.  I thought Rust was going to be behind it, or Marty's wife, but it..."

Ah, the viewer detective nature of crime shows these days.  That's the problem.  And just how many are out there in the audience?

These are the folks who play right along with the game as if they're right by the main character's side.  Talking to the TV, texting their friends that they just KNOW who did it and why.  I think I've watched, read about, and worked in entertainment (particularly TV) long enough to ask: is there anything wrong with just being entertained?  Even if you do guess correctly, do you think the channel or writer is going to show up the next day with a congratulations balloon and an ice cream bar?  Way to go - here's your "Junior Adventure pin" - wear it with pride!

Interesting to me that you rarely if ever hear this about comedy...maybe because so many sitcoms are conditioned to end on a note that "it's over."  And even in movies, you can be entertained (or not) on how it was done since you've invested money and some sort of emotion.  Dining out, same thing.  (Well, for some people...others know exactly what the Fish Filet combo meal includes each and every time)

All these amateur sleuths who think they know how things will end possibly started this skill watching Dodgers games.  (Turns to wife)  "Honey, I think they're going to blow this one...late innings."  (Wife nods, goes back to People Magazine)