9 January 2006
Dustbury: the series
Despite the fact that I live a dull Midwest nonexistence or would, if I, you know, actually lived in the Midwest Mister Snitch sees this lack of activity as perfect television-sitcom fodder.
Shows about nothing have taken off before. Plus, his pining for unattainable snarkgoddess Maureen Dowd (a central theme of the show) makes the concept soar. This one's American Splendor
, meets Seinfeld.
Frequent appearances are made by Janeane Garofalo
, playing Charles' archenemy, Maud Newton
. Next-door neighbor Sean Gleeson
stops by frequently to mooch food, get away from the wife, and involve Charles in crazy get-rich-quick schemes.
I never thought Maud Newton was all that arch. (Sean, in fact, lives more than three miles from me. Then again, so does Maureen Dowd.)
Charles falls in a well, just before the Super Bowl. Rather than spoil the party, the gang lowers him down a laptop and some Cheetos.
"What's with the orange?"
"Oh, I was just adding some highlights to whatzername's hair."
The gimmick here, of course, is that any time someone else is speaking, the screen width >NARROWS< to simulate a blockquote.
I have to assume that this is payback for faithfully watching Parker Lewis Can't Lose all those years. "You're not the Nixon of love!" cried Frank Lemmer.
Posted at 8:47 PM to Blogorrhea
You know, you're never going to get this thing greenlit with THAT attitude.
Can I be the Blog-Nazi?
NO LINKS FOR YOU!
CHARLES (on phone): Sure, Mike, I'll come for your Superbowl party, right after I inspect my well for radon leakage...
GLEESON (entering): Hey buddy! Got any fusilli?
CHARLES (on phone): I'll see you tonight. (Hangs up.) Gleeson, don't you ever knock? What if I was with a woman?
GLEESON (opens cupboards): Heh. That reminds me. Remember Maureen, that redhead from the New York Times?
CHARLES: Maureen Dowd?
GLEESON: That's her. She told me she would be in town for three nights, and wants you to call her. You're out of fusilli.
CHARLES: Wants me to call her? When?
GLEESON: Um, last Saturday, I think.
CHARLES: Eight days ago!? You idiot! Say, why do you come here for food, anyway? You live more than three miles away.
NEWTON (entering): Salutations, Gleeson. Hill.
CHARLES: Helllooooooo, Newton. What do you want?
NEWTON: Moi? Not a thing. Or didn't Gleeson tell you?
CHARLES: Tell me what?
GLEESON: Newton and me, we're gonna be rich and famous authors. Hey, can I take these Cheetos?
CHARLES: Be my guest. As long as you're here, will you hold the flashlight while I take a look at my well?
But -- but I wanna be Newman!
Don't worry, McG, the cast is up for grabs after the pilot.
Does that make me George? I HATE George.
Rather be Elaine.
Jan "Happy homemaker" would have to be Elaine.
But I want to see the episode where you all swear off blogging about yourselves and promise to blog only about others. 20 minutes later, Sean comes sliding through the door, slaps a $20 on the table and shouts "I'm OUT! And the Carnival of Sean is OPEN FOR BUSINESS!"
And you, Dwayne, are you master of your subdomain?
Aaah, I see that you're trying to bait the master....
(If I end up taking one of your classes in the near future, you will, of course, forget this whole scenario?)