Fall Television Premieres, Squirrels, and Whatnot

I decided tonight that I would write a blog about the new fall television season, specifically the new shows I am not watching via Hulu. Like all good plans and blogs. It started as one thing and became something entirely different.

I love the fall. I love the chill in the air. I love the possibility of new things. Spring is the supposed to be the season of birth, of creation. But to me, as a child of educators, as a live long student, as a media addict. Nothing can beat the fall.

New drama. New comedy. New characters. New worlds to explore. This is what fall means to me. Spring is the season of finales, endings, cancellations, graduations and moving on. Plus some nature stuff happens as well.

This fall, I have been excited to see new shows. Familiar faces in new places like James Spader on Blacklist, Maggie Lawson graduating from cable to network, Ichabod Crane as a super spy and yes, more Marvel's Agents of Shield.

I have watched the pilots of several series and my plan was to review them all here for you, but one took over my thinking and will hopefully get it's own post. Long. Ridiculous post. So yes. Here is a fall TV premiere review without any of Fury's chosen few. From a nerd. 

I added squirrels instead.

Oh. Ahem. SPOILER ALERT!!!!

Sleepy Hollow

Yes. I know. It' doesn't fit with the book. It has Dan Brown level of exposition and random happy coincidences. But you know what. I don't care.

The headless horseman is Death. Yeah, that Death. Not the cute Neil Gaiman version, the book of Revelation version. He is a bad dude. In the first episode he clearly adapts to modern weaponry. Ok. It's over the top. It's ridiculous. Ichabod isn't a bookish nerd, he's former British special ops who falls in love with a witch and is best buds with George Washington. His death and rebirth is tied to the Horseman's and he teams with a talented sheriff with a scary moment in the past. The two of them may be the only thing standing in the way of Armageddon. And not the animal cracker sex move kin of Armageddon. It shouldn't work. It's not at all believable.

I don't care. It's fun. It's camp. Of course there is a series of interconnecting tunnels under Sleepy Hollow built by George Washington. (Clearly the Vietcon were big Washington tactical fans) Of course the Kurgen from Highlander is the friendly, father like sheriff who gets his head chopped off. And who else but Harold from Harold and Kumar could help bring about the apocalypse?

It's strange. But the show knows it and doesn't care. It goes big. It embraces it. It works.

Watch Sleepy Hollow if you need an escape and park your suspension of disbelief at that door.

The Blacklist 

James Spader was going to be an admiral. He had the world on a string. Then he quit. He became a super spy who everyone hated. Top 10 most wanted for years. Then he turns himself in and wants to make a dead. He's got a list. A brand new female profiler as his side kick and he's going to break all the rules for some mysterious purpose. Help the government catch the bad guys it doesn't even know exist.

It's a bit Silence of the Lambs, it's a bit Count of Monte Cristo and it's all not supposed to work. Spader is having so much fun chewing up scenery that it doesn't matter. The minor characters, including his new profiler side kick are simply there to set up his moves. The scripts are weak. The mysteries will be too sledgehammer. (Kidnapping an admirals daughter to blow up a zoo? The Penguins of Madagascar had more evolved plans.) But again. It's fun. Spader owns the show. He's loving every minute of it. He's playing a caricature and he knows it. The show will fail when he becomes bored. Until then, I'll watch every minute of it.

Dads

I love sitcoms. I personally believe that I kept Platypus Man and Pig Sty on the air by myself for several weeks out of sure unadulterated love. I wish I was Seth Green. Casting him as the idea man for a video game company whose partner is also dealing with a live in father who is a pain in the ass. Sure. That works.

It's formulaic and the jokes aren't breaking new ground - they just had an episode about pot brownies for the love of mike. Each episode is full of more smile and smirk jokes than belly laugh ones. Yet, I watch. Maybe because I have parents. Maybe because I've hosted a party my father showed up too and became the life of. Maybe because I don't know if Brenda Song is playing an Asian stereotype or against type or just happy to have a job that isn't Disney. Nonetheless, the only way this show would have me more interested is if William Shatner or my own father were playing one of the titular roles.

Back in the Game

I love Maggie Lawson. I love Juliet from Psych. I love that as one show is winding down for her another might just be lifting off. (Much like I expect more Agent Hill on Agents of Shield after HIMYM concludes). James Caan is mostly mailing it in. And the concept makes me wonder if there is a story beyond one season. But I'm happy to have Maggie on my screens as much as possible.

Yeah it's a bad omen that there was a movie of the same name with Amy Adams and Clint Eastwood that was about baseball and bombed this summer. I fear it doesn't have much of a chance. But I'll right letters, tweets or throw a baseball at someone's head to keep Maggie around.

Marvel's Agents of Sheild

It gets its own post. I'll explain. No wait. There is too much. Instead.

Squirrels.

Mother @#$@#% squirrels.

I'm at war. My yard is a safe place for animals. I have deer walk through. I have a local owl. I have named at least 3 rabbits, all Bob or Bobette, that have residence in my yard. The squirrels and I have had a easy truce for almost two years. But then one went and got himself squished by my garage door. Honestly how does that happen? It's like Michael Palin running over Kevin Kline in A Fish Called Wanda, except without the feet stuck in concrete. How dumb do you have to bed to die via slowly moving garage door?

Then another croaks in the front yard. Seriously? What the hell nature? I've got two young kids who don't need to see the miracle of decomposition up close. Die somewhere else.

If it was just the dying, I could let it go. I mean, really it's not completely the squirrel's fault. Except for the garage door....seriously. WTF.

It's the nuts. The damned black walnuts that fall from a tree in my yard. They eat them. They peal them. They leave walnut casing all over my yard. And on my porch. They crawl along the side of my stucco'd house like Spiderman. They roll the walnuts off of my roof in such a way to make me feel like Hudson in Aliens (there in the walls man!!! The @^$#^$ walls!!!!).

Tonight I walked to my porch. Scattered the walnut casings and made a pronouncement. Least the squirrels should claim they were not warned....

"Dearest Squirrels. I love your scampering ways. Your childlike enthusiasm. Your dexterity of at least 8 die. But if you don't stop leaving your walnut peelings on my porch, I will be forced to purchase both a yippy dog and a pellet gun to hunt you down. You may gather your nuts for winter. But if I see another pile of walnut reside on my porch. Your nuts are mine!"

I swear I heard one of those @#$@# things laugh....

Maybe I should get another garage door. 

Links, Allegations and Little Left Unsaid.

I spend an abnormal about of time browsing the internet each night. I might have insomnia. I might hate the dreams my subconscious sends my way. I might simple need a more comfortable pillow. Nonetheless, here are some fun things I've recently found.

A red Star Trek uniform as a cycling jersey. That's just tempting fate. And traffic.

I really enjoy The Silent Comedy musically. It's cool that they are partnering to raise money though unique merchandise as well.

Yes. Everyone has heard Ylvis "What does the Fox say?" by now but as the Lonely Island/Weird Al of Scandinavia they have some great other videos as well.

And Stonehenge really hits home. Why did they build it?

What does the Fox say made them huge. I hope it leads people to discover the rest of their work.

Speaking of performance art. Dreds and Breado may be but an internet memory but for two days, they were a thing .

It doesn't rate up there with what Pizza the Hutt did to himself but this onside kick by UL-Lafayette's kicker is pretty impressive.

My son has been asking for super hero pjs and the selection at the local big box stores is always rather mundane. So I found this site and his pjs are in the proverbial mail.

If you haven't yet checked out Walk off the Earth I recommend starting with their cover of Lordes Royals. You'll get caught up in the fun, silliness and songs you didn't realize you knew there after.

 There is a decent chance if I found a lost dog. This would happen.

 If I remember correctly this happened to Joey on Friends way back when. Bad luck. Not the ad you want to be associated with. And she didn't even get paid...

Grantland has some really good stuff. Some about sports, like this piece on the Cleveland Browns draft process. And some about pop culture, like this one about the new fall broadcast shows. Already into the surreal almost silliness of Sleepy Hollow. Reminds me of Grimm.

And finally, while silly this article detailing just how far Rocky must have run in the training montage from Rocky II is both brilliant and pointless. Love it.

Rocky was an ultra-marathoner. But those kids are even more unexplainable. Ah movies.

Origin Story - Kid #2

Today my son is 7. Seven. Such an eventful entry into the world. Premature. Tiny. I've never been so scared in all my life as I drove those miles to Louisville, chasing an ambulance. Scared I'd lose so much. Scared I wouldn't make it in time. Scared I didn't even know what hospital I was going to. He arrived and was so perfect yet so incredibly small. So strong. Once again they asked for a name. Two kids, two times I picked the first name from our list that came to mind. Then worried if I spelled it right. 

After he and mom were safe and resting. I was so wired. I hadn't eaten all day. I left the hospital to find something to eat and try and breathe. Across the street there was of all things, a Hooters. So there I was, eating wings, crying tears of joy/exhaustion/relief and showing Hooters waitresses and other patrons pictures of my newborn son. 

It was surreal. All of it was. But it was good. And so is he. My son.