What Ever Happened To Predictibility?
by Michele Christopher
The editor's picks this weekend was my idea. Pick a fictional place from a tv show where you'd like to live. So why did I have such a hard time coming up with something? I hate when that happens. But after agonizing over it (I was sure I was going to pick some cartoon world the whole time then decided at the last minute that I don't want to live in a 2D world, although it would be kinda cool to live in Marioland or something like that), I came up with my ideal fictional television place to live.
That's right. I said Full House. Now, before you go and make fun of me, you should know that I'm not really, nor have I ever been, a huge fan of this show. Sometimes I just watched it because it was on and I was too lazy to click the remote. Or maybe I was drunk. I was still relatively young when this show started, so I can theoretically blame my viewing of it on alcohol.
So why would I want to live in a place that is the home of a show I don't really care for? Well, there's a couple of reasons. And I think I'll make a good case here so you will have to refrain from making fun of me.
1. All my problems will be solved in half an hour.
That's the best thing about tv shows. No matter what crisis comes up, be it a dating disaster, school problems, getting fired, drug addiction, a crisis of faith, divorce, death of beloved pet, friend or family member, murder, suicide, trouble with the law, cheating, fire, tornadoes, burned dinner, bullying, gang rape, coming out of the closet, etc., it can all be solved in half an hour. Maybe an hour if you're living in a drama, but half an hour for most sitcoms.
Life happens in a blur. You start off your episode with some kind of conflict and before that 30 minutes is up, everyone on your show has helped in some way to solve your problem and end the conflict in a way that brings happiness and joy to everyone around. Find out your best friend is a serial killer who stuffs hookers in his trunk? Don't worry. Danny and Uncle Jesse will take care of everything. Got a big zit on the day of a big date? No problem. DJ and Kimmy will find a way to cover up that nasty pimple. Feeling down, depressed, and suicidal? Never fear, Joey is here to tell a really stupid joke and smile in the offhand, smirky way, that makes you forget that your period is a week late and the guy you slept with has herpes.
It's like magic. Pure, television magic.
2. Kimmy Gibler.
Brazen, annoying and god damn nerve-wracking, Kimmy took the cliche of "quirky neighbor" to new heights. think Andrea Barber, the actress that portrayed Kimmy, felt seriously threatened by those cute, darling Olsen twins. She must have known that some day those adorable girls would grow up to be two anorexic, drug addicted babes who run their own media empire from the confines of their rehab center and poor Andrea would be left with nothing but a future episode of Where Are They Now? or a bit role in Skateboard Kid 2.
I can't say that she doesn't deserve that shitty fate. Maybe if she didn't overact in every scene and steal the thunder from the other fine actors of Full House, and maybe if she didn't do such a crappy job piericing Steph's ears (which I think was intentional because everyone knows that Steph hated Kimmy and maybe Kimmy was hoping Steph would get an ugly infection and die), well, maybe she would still be acting. And maybe I wouldn't have to be writing this thing where I want to live in the Full House world just so I can take a steak knife to Kimmy Gibbler's voice box. It would be a Very Special Episode, indeed. One in which the whole "com" part of sitcom goes out the window as Kimmy lays in the Tanner kitchen in a pool of blood and no one moves to call an ambulance or anything because hey, it's Kimmy, and she's god damn annoying and maybe not having her around anymore wouldn't be such a bad thing. So they all stand around and watch Kimmy thrash around the floor and listen to her blood gurgle as it pours out of her throat and Steph maybe kicks her a couple of times and says things like "That's for my earlobe infection, you filthy whore!" And DJ says something like "I never liked you, I was just your pity friend!" And then at the end of the episode, when the medical examiner comes to take the body away just as Joey is standing over the corpse saying Cut. It. Out! Danny and Uncle Jesse come on the screen and say something like "What you just saw was fiction. But it could happen to you. Don't be that girl. Don't be an annoying, wacky neighbor. If you do know someone who is an annoying, wacky neighbor, call 1-800-Kimmyisdead and we'll help you with your problem. We here in the Tanner house care deeply about you. Don't end up like this."
The more you know.
Pretty simple here. A really good reason to live in this house. See, I'm going to punch him in the face every time he says Cut. It. Out. It will only be a matter of time before he has this Pavlovian reaction every time I walk in the room. That's right, Joey. You better flinch. Cause my fist is itching for your mouth. I'd also make sure to spend every episode telling him how much his jokes suck and how unfunny he is and I'd leave want ads for fry cooks in his bed with the words "don't quit your day job" written on them. There would be some point in every episode where I would make Joey cry. Eventually, the futility of his life and chosen career will smack him upside the head like a brick and he'll lock himself in his room and write really bad poetry and one day we'll be looking for him and Steph will find him in the bathtub, the words Cut It Out sliced into his arm, blood everywhere. And Kimmy will say something like, "Is this because I told Dad about how you asked me to dress up in that Sailor Moon outfit last week?"
I just want to prevent him from marrying that washrag of a woman. Has there ever been a sitcom character so lacking in personality? Really. What the hell was her name anyhow? Becca...Becky...Rebecca....hey, wasn't Stamos's wife's named Rebecca in real life? Weird. Anyhow, I just can't stand that chick. No idea what Jesse saw in her. She didn't even have big tits. And she looks like the kind of chick you'd pick up at a NASCAR thing. I have no idea what that means.
Also, I'd tell Jesse that his Elvis-type rock music that Jesse and the Rippers play is fag and he should consider shaving his head, getting some tattoos and starting a punk rock band. Jessie and the Jackboots or something. Because I'll be honest with you, the only thing that kept me from having any kind of sexual fantasy about Jesse was the whole crappy music thing. What? Oh come on, like you didn't have the hots for him when he was bad boy Blackie on General Hospital.
See, I have good reasons for wanting to live in this place instead of somewhere like the land of Aqua Teen Hunger Force (I'd so party with Carl) or some Batman cartoon series just so I could have a hot, lesbian fling with Harley Qunn. Those things are all well and good, but I'd get no lasting lessons out of them and everyone knows that tv life is all about lessons. Sure, Meatwad might teach me a valuable lesson about making the homies say ho and the girlies want to scream and Harely might teach me a thing or two about what it's really like to fuck a cartoon, but that just doesn't compare to what you get out of Full House:
Michele named her vibrator Master Shake.