The Dan Band is the brainchild of Dan Finnerty, hub of Kathy Najimy. So what’s not to love? I especially love the rock-out gospel part at the end. (One thing I can’t figure out, though: How does Neil Patrick Harris continue getting incrementally cuter?)
Brothers & Sisters! Last night’s episode was near-perfect. I’m only bummed that it won’t be back with new episodes until January.
I have wondered for a while if I’ve been turning into some crotchety, Dana-Carvey-type, grandpa character regarding music. There isn’t a lot on the charts that thrills me. And yet, I find something to get excited about every year with American Idol.
I think I’ve finally figured out why. Pop music these days — don’t you just love crotchety ol’ grandpas who use phrases like “these days”? — for the most part, just doesn’t showcase vocalists. Or phrasing and interpretation. But, to my relief, it’s not that singers these days don’t have the chops. Many of them do. I just can’t tell unless they’re singing something that was written for singing (as in most of the song choices on Idol.) To prove my point, here’s a These Days singer in a clip from a recent Grammy-ish special:
I was catching up on some Simpsons episodes, and I have a new favorite line:
Y’know, for a bartender/bookie, you’re awfully judgmental.
The Simpsons, for some reason, is still very funny.
NBC is premiering a new, month-long dance competition, produced by the So You Think You Can Dance folks. It’s called Superstars of Dance, and I don’t think Molly Shannon is involved at all.
I have not idea if it’ll be great, or a panoply of international cheese, but meet me back here after it premieres the first Sunday in 2009, and we’ll discuss. (It moves to Mondays after the premiere, so you can TiVo Desperate Housewives for one night.)
As is my annual (and apparently unbreakable) custom, I watched the brazen commercialism and bad camera work that is the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. To my appreciative surprise, there is a “Keith Haring Heart Balloon” this year. I’m surprised because Haring died of AIDS, and was an outspoken gay activist; just looking at his distinctive style is practically a rorschach for words like “gay” and “equality.” I’d say it’s nice that an Institution like the Macy’s Parade isn’t afraid to include a message like that, however subliminal, to impact the kiddies.
At the other end of the spectrum of things that should be impacting the kiddies, there was a performance by a girl pop trio called the Clique Girlz. And they looked every bit as Heathers-attitudey as any high school clique that ever made all the poorer/different/less cute kids feel inferior to them. I thought cliquishness wasn’t an aspiration these days. Maybe High School Musical 4 is where they renege on that “everybody’s special” message. “Clique Girlz”….grumble…
But the good outweighted the annoying, as the Macy’s Parade actually did something…hip. Some kiddie-show float was in the middle of their musical number, and it was suddenly interrupted by — Rick Astley, singing “Never Gonna Give You Up.” They actually did some Rick-rolling! I love it.
Okay, life should be like this: Real dogs have dog voices. Cartoon dogs have human voices.
But what if a real dog has a cartoon voice?
This is strangely mesmerizing. Perhaps the dog is sending some kind of subliminal brainwashing, and we are doomed as a species. Klaatu Barkata Nikto.
Now that the election is over (and Tiny Fey is trying to make her life a Palin-free zone) it looks like Saturday Night Live has gone back to being a hit-or-miss (mostly miss) proposition.
One thing that was pretty funny was the “We’re the Dancers” skit with Justin Timberlake and Beyoncé. Gotta love Andy Samberg, Timberlake, and the chubby guy in leotards and high heels, being all faux-Beyoncérrific. (more…)
I’ve gotten a little re-hooked on E.R. in this, its last season. But I was prepared to feel disappointed by last night’s episode, which centered around Angela Bassett’s character and featured a return-from-the-dead (via flashback) appearance by Dr. Greene (Anthony Edwards). The reason I was braced for disappointment was because TV Guide — of which I am currently in receipt of a free subscription — told me it would be a sucky episode and make bad use of the beloved, bald character, not to mention squander the Bassett chops.
And yet…I cried like a little flounder during this extremely well-done episode. (Yeah, I know flounders aren’t known for their crying, but I’ve got a bad cold and I don’t feel much like a land mammal.) Bassett was quite something, in an episode that jetted between her happy-mommy past and her stoic-fascist present (even though it is a bit unsettling to see Angela Bassett all smiley — warmth, for better or worse, isn’t really her trademark). Ultimately, the episode deeply hit upon the pain of allowing oneself to love, along with its corresponding redemption. And what more, I ask you, could TV Guide want from a show? It almost makes me want to question whether their compulsive attention to The Hills might not be excessive.
I’m enjoying the homages that E.R. is paying to past (and presently departing) cast member in its swan-song season. The show is a class act. Unlike the periodical that claims to be its arbiter.
Even though I watch the thing on a daily (and rather rabid) basis, I don’t make a habit of blogging about One Life to Live. But I have been enthralled by the writing on this soap since this guy named Ron Carlivati (last year’s Emmy winner) took over as Head Writer. But that’s no surprise to anyone who’s gone far enough back in these archives to see the occasional entry mentioning this show and/or my adorably inconsequential campaign to become a new writer there. (Yoo hoo…Carlivatiiiiii….)