Danielle's hectoring me again. I haven't posted an entry in a week and she wants to know why. All right then, I guess it's time to come clean: I've gone over to the dark side. I've been Blue-ified.
I'm speaking, of course, about NYPD Blue. I've avoided it like the plague ever since it first hit the airwaves. I tried watching an episode or two in the first season, but the herky-jerky camera work put me off. It was too contrived, too self-consciously MTV-ish. It was pointless and it annoyed me and it put me off the show. Then when the show developed such a rabid following, that redoubled my conviction not to watch it -- no way am I queueing up with the great unwashed to watch silly camera work. But then the damned thing started winning Emmy Awards. It got great reviews. I started thinking maybe I was missing something, so I tried watching again. Again, I only lasted about ten minutes. That damned camera... I maintained.
Then FX got into the game. They're broadcasting episodes every night at midnight. I watched one just for the hell of it a week or so ago, made myself sit through the camera's gyrations. To my horror, I liked it. I watched again the next night. And the next. And the next. Now I can't miss it. I don't even notice the camera work any more. I'm hooked, damn it. I switch to the FX channel at 11:59 each night with the same self-loathing a junkie must feel as he cooks his fix. I hate myself for doing it, but I can't help it.
Why is this relevant to this journal, you ask? Midnight, 12-1. That's when I used to write my entries, but lately I've been glued to the set for that hour, drinking deeply of the world of Sipowitz and the gang. I know I'm letting this space slide and letting you down, but God help me I'm weak. Blame Steven Bochco, blame David Milch, blame Rupert Murdoch, but don't blame me. It's never the addict's fault, remember. They're making me watch, damn them!
But you're reading this entry now, so you must be thinking I skipped NYPD Blue tonight to write this missive. Perhaps you're proud of me for finding the strength to put down the remote, to fight the addiction, to Just Say No. Save it. I'm writing this during NBC's "Must See TV" block, only half of which even approaches "Maybe See" status. What I'm missing now is Union Square and Seinfeld, two shows I promise I will never like. Union Square won't last the season, I predict, and Seinfeld... well, let's just say it's a taste I can't acquire. In this instance I won't be joining the great unwashed. Ever. But I will be joining them at midnight. I can't miss my Blue.
So that's my excuse and explanation for not having written here in so long. What more can I say? Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I'm sorry, I'll try to do better. I'll find another time to write my entries, something that doesn't conflict with That Which Will Not Be Missed. But for now, I'm going to have to cut this short. ER's coming up soon, and that's another show I won't miss.
Addicted to TV... Pathetic. Harlan Ellison calls it The Glass Teat, you know. He's right, it is.
Gotta go now. Gonna go cop a feel.