For No Goddamn Reason I Can Think Of, I Watched An Episode Of Alice

Do you remember the TV show Alice? Of course you don’t. That show is fucking ancient, and so it is only remembered by crusty old fucks like me who also remember doing the Lindy Hop and what it was like to get fellated by Amelia Earhart (the woman knew how to give a hummer, I’ll give her that). So let me give you a rundown: Some bitch with a kid decides to move to LA to become a singer because she’s a fucking idiot, but her car breaks down in Phoenix and she winds up working for 9 fucking years in a shit-hole diner with a cook who has more back hair then Ed Asner.

That’s it in a nutshell. If you’re thinking to yourself, “That is what passed for entertainment back then?” I absolutely agree with you. Remember, this was in an era during which there were three major networks and whatever craziness was playing on Channel Ocho, and that was it. You didn’t have a lot of choices back then, and the networks knew it. So they spent all their time nailing prospective actresses on the casting couch and left trivial details like, oh I don’t know, creating and producing quality television programming to homeless guys. Seriously, you were shit out of luck if you didn’t like what was on TV. ABC’s slogan was, “ABC: Sit Down And Shut The Fuck Up”.

So of course this piece of shit show Alice ran for nine goddamn years. Nine. We’re not allowed to have a fucking president for longer than eight years, certainly we can limit shows like Alice, right? Ugh. Anyway, I thought of the show today because Alice was set where I live, Phoenix, and I remember watching the show as a kid and thinking to myself, “Wow! They just said it was 104 in Phoenix! That’s crazy! I can’t imagine living there!” Now, of course, I say, “Wow! It’s 117 outside! Shoot me!”

The shows opening theme song (which is about as fucking annoying and catchy as can possibly be) contains a memorable shot of a sign reading “Mel’s Diner”, where Alice works. I had known at one point that the sign was taken from a real Mel’s Diner in Phoenix, but I thought it was long gone. As it turns out, the sign itself has changed slightly, but the diner itself is still there. I will firebomb it tomorrow.

Hahaha, just kidding. It’s pretty cool that you can go to some random joint that was immortalized on 1970’s TV and smoke dope and fornicate in the bathroom, or whatever it is that people do in greasy spoon diners. Look, here it is today:

Image courtesy of Google Maps. Every time I see the Google Maps car, I pull my pants down and show it my taint. This is why I'm no longer allowed in Saskatchewan, or as it is now called, Asskatchewan.

Image courtesy of Google Maps. Every time I see the Google Maps car, I pull my pants down and show it my taint. This is why I’m no longer allowed in Saskatchewan, or as it is now called, Asskatchewan.

Crazy, huh? Anyway, back to that fucking opening jingle. Here it is. (Sorry about this.)

The best part of that song is the line, “There’s a fresh, freckled face in the neighborhood”. If Linda Lavin is a fresh, freckled face, I’m the fucking Gerber baby. And in case you were wondering, which you weren’t, yes, Linda Lavin actually sang the song herself and fucking admitted it! Even worse, the producers were shooting sterno in an alley one day and decided that they’d let her rerecord it every year. This, of course, went to Linda’s head and she started going all lounge-lizard with it. Please note, this is not a joke. This is really what the song sounded like in later seasons:

Holy Jesus. She’s stretching out so much it’s painful, You get the feeling that if the show lasted long enough, you’d get to hear Linda throw in some rap, maybe a bit of Paradise City, and show up to work one day wearing flannel before producers (rightfully) made her eat a shotgun in the apartment above her garage.

So, as I sat there in the office hating myself for spending even one nanosecond thinking about Alice, I decided I’d watch an episode and Tweet my reactions, or at least the ones that didn’t involve me destroying my TV. Here’s how that went:

 Holy shit, that was rough. Join me next week when I do something easier, like swallow a bowling ball.