All posts by BraddonM

Jumping the Shark

Braddon News, Television

“Charlie” had been trying to break into the television market for years.  An accountant at a small entertainment CPA firm, he often found himself resentful of the successful writer clients who weren’t half as talented as he was.  Each evening he would spend typing out his spec scripts and sending them off, hoping that one day — one day — he might get his break.

When he first came to see me, he seemed distraught and displayed signs of acute anxiety.  He emptied a bag of scripts onto the table and plopped himself down on the sofa.

“I’ve been at this game for years,” he lamented.  “I’ve been working at it really hard and I just can’t get my break.”

“Why do you think that is?” I asked.

“I haven’t a clue.”

“That’s quite a stack of scripts.  You must write a lot.”

“Every day.”  He picked up one from the top of the stack.  “I just finished the best spec script I’ve ever written.”

“Good for you,” I replied.  “What is it?”

“It’s a Gilligan’s Island.”

At first I thought he was pulling my leg, but he seemed to take genuine pride in his accomplishment.  Nevertheless, I prodded him.

“Did you say Gilligan’s Island?”

He held the script out.  Sure enough, on the cover were the words: “Gilligan’s Island,” with the patient’s name centered carefully underneath. “I don’t want to give away the plot, but basically, the castaways are just about to be rescued and Gilligan does something to screw it up.”

I looked at Charlie as if he had just landed on earth from the Heaven’s Gate UFO.  “Now, I don’t profess to know everything about the television business, but is it wise to write a spec script for a thirty year old show?”

“No one cares.  They only want to see how well you can write the characters.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“One of those seminars.  You know, ‘How to Break into Sitcoms.’  And if I may be unmodest for a moment, I really aced the characters.  You can really visualize them saying these lines.  Except for Mary Ann.  I really had trouble getting into her character, so I killed her off.  And the Howells catch a virus that renders them temporarily mute, so I didn’t have to write too much dialogue for them.”

“I see.  What else have you written?”

“Well, I’m just finishing up an I Love Lucy.”

“Of course you are.”

“Man, it’s so funny.  Ricky brings home a new laptop computer, and he won’t let Lucy use it.  Meanwhile, Fred secretly starts a website for swinging couples.  I still need an ending.”

I turned to him and spoke in a soothing, but direct manner.  “Perhaps if you tried writing for a more contemporary program…”

He thought for a moment.  “I have a Mad About You.”

Okay, I thought.  That show was current within the last two decades.  Now we’re getting somewhere. “Tell me about it.”

“The Paul Reiser character gets hit by a car and dies, and Jamie marries somebody else — another comedian.  I’m thinking Paul Rodriguez; he hasn’t done a sitcom for awhile and we can bring in the whole ethnic element.”

“You think it’s wise to change the format of the show like that?”

“Who’s changing the format?” he protested.  “I’m just replacing one of the characters.  It’s still the same format. A married couple.  Only now, one of them’s Hispanic, which opens the door to a wider array of amusing situations.  An I Love Lucy for the nineties.  What do you think?”

I hesitated to ask, but knew, if I were to be effective at all in his treatment, I must continue the inquiry.  I took a deep breath, braced myself and inquired:  “What else do you have?”

“Here’s an episode of Friends.  It’s fifty years in the future, they’re all old and kind of saggy, but they live in the same building.”

“But the actors in the show are all young people.”

“Aha!” he retorted, bouncing up and down on the sofa like a child.  “Characters in television age faster than in real life.”

“So, would you get older actors to play the parts, or would you put the cast in old age make-up?”

“Neither.  You wait fifty years before filming the episode.  That way, you can use the original cast.  Save money on auditioning new people.”

“What else do you have?”

“I wrote a spec Dateline.”

“That’s a news program.”

“They still need scripts.  In this episode, Jane Pauley banters with Sam Donaldson.”

“He’s on a different network.”

“Not in my episode.  In my episode, all the networks have merged into one huge conglomerate.  You think it’s okay that I have her speaking with a French accent?”

“Jane Pauley doesn’t have a French accent.”

“Then they’ll have to cast someone who does.  Maybe Robin Williams.  He can do Jane Pauley in a French accent.  Man, I gotta write that down.”   He scribbled a few notes onto the script cover.   Fortunately, our time was up.

 “I think our time is up,” I told him.  “I’ll see you next Thursday.”

“You think you can help me?  You think I’ll ever break into television?”

“Given time, anything’s possible.”

“Thanks, Doc.”  He loaded up his scripts and departed.

A few moments later, I realized he had accidentally left his Gilligan’s Island script.  Was it really an accident?  Or was he seeking my approval of his talent?  I picked up the document and began reading.  Halfway through the story, Mary Ann was killed off, the Howells contracted a virus that rendered them mute and Gilligan did something to screw up their chances of being rescued.  To be honest, it was a very well-written, humorous script.  And yes, I could visualize the characters saying these lines.  There was the Skipper, rotund and chipper, slapping his hat at Gilligan’s whimsical antics.  I could hear the professor, babbling on about some pseudo-scientific discovery.  Ginger was as sexy as ever, and Mary Ann — alas, poor Mary Ann.

The kid had talent, no doubt, yet something prevented him from attaining his goal.  Often, in these cases, it is a matter of self-sabotage.  The client subconsciously makes decisions that are completely counter to his goals.  In this instance, it wasn’t clear at all, but given time and a continuation of therapy, I am confident we can unlock the reasons together, and Charlie can lead a fulfilling life as a staff writer.

About Miracles

Braddon News

Miracles come in assorted varieties.  They don’t have to be huge “Parting of the Red Sea” spectacles or “walking-away-from-a-car-crash-unscathed” events.  Tiny miracles surround us everywhere.  Most of them are translucent; you can’t see them with your eyes, but if you reach out, you can touch them and feel them and they will affect your life in ways never before imagined.

Just look into your baby’s eyes when you take him out of the crib in the morning.  As sunlight washes his curious face, he expresses his approval with a smile, delighting in the bountiful opportunities  of a new day. There is nothing bad or commonplace in the world; only wondrous gadgets of imagination —  to be tugged upon and pulled and tasted — and his mommy and daddy, who are always there, holding him and comforting him and helping him navigate his little universe.

The day is joyful and wondrously amazing, replete with new surprises, smells, tastes, sights and sounds, yet he chooses to begin his morning by doing something familiar and comforting — touching his hand to your face.  You have become part of his day, part of the adventure, part of the miracle.

As he amuses himself by banging two plastic bowls together, you think that someday he’ll want a bright red car with big chrome wheels.  But right now, those two bowls bring him as much enjoyment as a person could know.   How odd it is that watching him makes you cry.   

In that instant, you discover the brilliant shades and hues that parenthood has added to your palette, and then it hits you:  from this day forward, your life will be comprised of one suprising new color after another.

You rock your baby to sleep at night.  He resists and fusses, but that is only because he doesn’t want the day to end.  Surely he might miss something if he shuts his eyes too soon.   He reminds you there is more to see, more to learn, every day.

The moment is unique; it will never be repeated, but the miracle remains forever, in your memories and in the moistness of a teardrop.

— Braddon

The Death of Network Television, Part One

Braddon News, Internet, Television

Next year will be end of the major broadcast television networks.  They will meet their demise with no fanfare, no melancholy send-offs, no bittersweet memorial at the Staples Center.  Their influence over contemporary culture will cease to exist, save as foggy memories in textbooks recounting the history of electronic media.

While that’s bad news for network executives, who for seventy years have arrogantly dictated which shows their ever-dwindling audiences can watch and at what time of day they can watch them, it’s great news for everyone else.

The death of the networks and their antiquated programming matrices will be a renaissance for electronically delivered entertainment and a golden opportunity for advertisers, as the difference between traditional television and your Internet-connected computer become virtually indistinguishable.

Viewers will keep their TVs, but instead of being spoon-fed from a limited variety of shows at predetermined times from the Big Three Networks, they will dine on an endless spectrum of news and entertainment from thousands of producers around the world, via the Internet, conveniently viewing them at a time of their choosing.

This shift from Network Television to Internet Television is referred to as “convergence,” and there’s not much disagreement that it’s coming.

What executives don’t seem to grasp is how quickly it’s all going to converge.  It won’t happen in ten years; it won’t happen in five years. It will be happening by the end of next year.

As I write this, it’s August 2009.  My prediction is that by next summer it will be all over for the big guys.  The 2009-2010 television season will be the last one that we recognize as such.  (Okay, maybe they’ll manage to stay on life support for an additional year, but it’ll be in a vegetative state, in which case they will be declared dead in 2011.)

So, if a year from now network television ceases to exist, what does that mean for ABC, NBC and CBS (yes, and Fox – although after 20 years or so, it’s still hard for me to think of them as a major network).  In short, they will be out of business, and their parent companies will suffer immeasurable losses.

The Big Three Networks are all owned by major studios.  Disney owns ABC, Universal owns NBC and VIACOM owns CBS.  Corporate directors should start thinking about liquidating these assets now, or risk losing everything for their stockholders.  And don’t expect Congress or President Obama to bail them out. Unlike the auto industry, there will likely be more jobs created without them.

Some contend that the Big Three will still exist, but in a different form.  Perhaps, but that difference will have to be radical and immediate, two adjectives I don’t suspect have ever been attributed to network television without being followed by a rim shot. In their current configuration, it seems impractical for networks to compete viably with independent Internet producers, who are leveling out the entertainment playing field every day.

TO BE CONTINUED

Making Air Travel Safer

Braddon News, Travel

My 78-year-old father recently underwent an ordeal on the return leg of a round-trip he and my mom took to Cincinnati.  An airport security agent pulled him aside and strip-searched him in public, a procedure that included a double fisted anal probe, followed by a lengthy waterboarding in Crisco Oil.

Okay, so I exaggerate, but what really happened was probably only a tad less humiliating, as the inspector actually ran his gloved fingers underneath the elastic band of my dad’s underwear.  (What did he think he’d find, an exploding Fruit-of-the-Loom tag?) And yes, I know we all have to make sacrifices to assure the safety of everyone who flies.  But is punking an old guy really making travel safer?

There is a way to ensure air travelers are treated respectfully, while maintaining an even higher level of security.

Let’s rethink the entire security process, from the time the passenger arrives at the terminal, to the time they depart on their flight.

What if the security officer who screens the passengers was required to get on the plane and fly with them to the next destination? That officer would have the greatest incentive imaginable to make sure dangerous people are discovered before boarding: his or her life.

Here’s how it could work: Passengers would pass thought an initial x-ray screening on the way to their respective gates.  There would be no frisking, no profiling, no pulling passengers out of line unless something suspicious showed up on the x-ray.  It would be many times quicker than the current process.

When the passengers regroup at their respective boarding gates, they will be screened by a second security agent, the “Airline Chaperon” — the one that will accompany them on the plane.

The time a passenger spends at the gate is normally wasted anyway, as they sit and wait for the boarding call.  The Airline Chaperon would take advantage of this time to screen each passenger one-on-one, utilizing a hand-scanner when deemed appropriate. Signs would be posted, as in restaurants, advising passengers: “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.” The Airline Chaperon will have the authority to pull suspicious passengers aside for more thorough scrutiny or to deny them passage altogether.

After all the passengers have been interviewed and have boarded the flight, the Airline Chaperon will join them on the plane.  Once at the destination airport, the Airline Chaperon will then repeat the procedure with a new group of returning air travelers.

Requiring the person who screens the passengers to get on the plane with them will ensure that all passengers are scrutinized equally and increase the likelihood that suspicious ones will be weeded out before they become a threat in the air.

In case anyone asks,

Braddon

Lessons of Prop. 8

Culture

I need to thank ProtectMarriage.com for teaching my six-year-old son about gay marriage. 

One of the red herrings the Proposition 8 hucksters threw into the political mix was to scare families into thinking that the concept of same-sex couples getting married would be a required subject in our public schools (and that somehow, that was a bad thing) if the initiative didn’t pass. 

How ironic that while they were spreading these lies, they succeeded — through their repetitious, misleading and reprehensible television campaign — in exposing every school child in the state of California to that very concept in which they spent forty-million dollars to warn us against.

My son loves studying the universe.  He can tell you about all eight planets in our solar system, and why Pluto is no longer a planet, but may be a planet again someday.  He can tell you how volcanoes work and how clouds are formed.  Prior to the Proposition 8 campaign, he didn’t know the meaning of “straight” or “gay” in the context of human sexuality, but he had seen these television spots so often he finally asked me what gay marriage was all about. 

I explained that gay men or women are people who choose to love someone of the same sex.  It was a simple explanation, which he understood completely.  I told him gay people want the right to work and play and be happy just like anyone else, but there are some people who want to take away their right to marry one another. 

“Throughout history,” I said, “there have been times when one group of people passed laws restricting what another group of people could do, who they could associate with, even who they could marry.  Those laws have always been wrong.”

A few examples rolled off the top of my head:

Adolf Hitler made it illegal for Jews to marry blonde-haired, blue-eyed German people.  He also wouldn’t allow them to own businesses or openly practice their religion;

Not too long ago, it was illegal in parts of our country for black kids to go to the same schools as white kids;

And there was even a time when lawmakers in our own state of California made it illegal for black people and white people to marry one another.

Although he easily grasped the concept of gay marriage, he could not understand how one group of people could be so mean toward another.  “Why?” he asked.

I have no problem teaching my son about gay people; having to shave a little of his innocence off by explaining the hatred that exists in the world was a little tough.  “One group of people hates another group because of who they are or how they look,” I said. “As their hates festers and grows, they spread lies and fear to attract more followers, until they have enough power to force the other group to obey them.”

“I wish everyone was treated equally,” he said.

“Me, too,” I said.

So thank you, ProtectMarriage.com, for informing my son — and millions of his counterparts across the Golden State — not just about gay marriage, but how hatred can manifest itself into the most appalling abuses of one group against another.