10. So You Think You Can Wassail

9. I Saw Uncle Charlie Kissing Santa Claus

8. The Littlest Angel: You’re Gonna Do What With That Christmas Tree?!

7. When Elves Attack

6. How the Grinch Got Green Genital Warts

5. Sheep in Heavenly Fleece

4. America’s Funniest Home Videos Nutcracker

3. Frosty the Hypothermia Victim

2. It’s a Wonderful Life for the One Percent

1. The Black Friday Special: Assault & Pepper Spray
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

10. Law & Order 2: Electric Boogaloo

9. How I Met Your Accountant

8. Mad Cows

7. The Quantum Field Theory

6. So You Think You Can Play the Accordion

5. Grey’s Biochemistry

4. America’s Funniest Voicemails

3. CSI: Bayonne

2. Extreme Makeover: Prison Edition

1. Dancing with the Has-Beens
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

I realize that the very nature of writing this post is contrary to my big plan but I’m going to write it anyway; because I don’t think I’m alone when I say, “Enough is enough times infinity.”

Over the weekend, the story broke that Kim Kardashian was getting divorced from Kris Humphries. That “news” is so widespread by now that I didn’t even have to look up how long her marriage lasted to confirm that the union lasted 72 days. It is a number that is burned in my brain thanks to all the Twitter jokes and snide Facebook remarks, the links shared and re-shared, the pithy quotes about how much was made per day in this “marriage for money”, and the countless headlines that abound when you dare to search her name in Google. What makes me pause, though, are the comments written beside many of those shared links: “I am so tired of hearing about these Kardashians.”

Source: People Magazine

I want to believe that there is a back room somewhere filled with media’s most brilliant minds and that these great purveyors of news  are sitting in clouds of cigar smoke, deciding what is and is not news. I want one of them to wave her pork pie hat in the air and say something to the effect of, “See here, kids. This Kardashian brood has got to go, see? They’re just not worthy of reporting, see? Let’s vote here and now to end these stories before they start.” (Fact: this room may or may not exist in the 1930s.)

Even barring intervention from the bigger news outlets and blog conglomerates, there is hope that this will all pass on its own– what we call The Kidney Stone treatment of gossip mongering.  After all, Paris Hilton dissolved into a non-story before our eyes. But do we really have to sit passively and wait for evolution to take its course with the Kardashian brood? No. No, we do not.

Here now is my battle cry: Let’s stop the Kardashians now. Let’s take a page from Occupy Wall Street and, instead, let’s “Occupy Gossip.”  Let’s say “No” to the endless barrage of stories about whether or not the wedding guests will get their gifts back or what went wrong or what Khloe and Kourtney have to say in response. Let’s fight back.

Here’s how you can help:

• See a link to a Kardashian story? Don’t click on it.
• In the supermarket and itching to pick up the latest Kardashian-centered issue of People? RESIST. Back away. Buy a candy bar instead. A Milky Way is way better for your mental and emotional health, trust me.
• Peruse the other sections of sites like Gawker (if you can navigate it, that is). I’m sure there are other gossip-related bits that can sate your appetite for other people’s private lives. Hey, I hear Scarlett Johansson talks about those scandalous pictures! Go and read that instead! Trust me, even Scarlett would back this play.
• Don’t share any Kardashian-related links on Facebook and Twitter. Keep your conspiracy theories, your jokes, your puns, your cutting hashtags to yourself. Write about puppies instead. (One exception: Do send this to your local government representative if they are of the more conservative persuasion because it is a valid statement on our society.)
• Give up E! for the duration of the holiday season. Just because the executives at E! fall to the knees of this trifling family, doesn’t mean we, as a nation, have to– let’s fight back with our viewer numbers.

When a marriage fails, it’s a sad affair. Most of the time, famous people release a statement about their relationship status and respectfully request a little privacy through “this difficult time.” I know Kim didn’t exactly ask for that but, hey, let’s give it to her anyway. Think of it like the wedding gift that just keeps on giving. It will be a gift for us too.

Is Erica Kane dead? It seems her show is, at least on network television. Yesterday was the last episode of All My Children on ABC, and it ended with a gunshot headed in Erica’s direction, followed by a fade to black. Much like its soap opera protagonists, All My Children will be resurrected from the dead, but online. Now two questions remain: who will be in the new version, and who will watch it?

That bullet may very well have hit Erica square between the eyes, because Susan Lucci is saying now that she will not do the new format. Prospect Park, an online production company, bought the rights from ABC to keep All My Children going on the internet, but it is still unclear just which principal actors from the current show will enlist in the new production. I am sure they can just assign new talent to the old names. They do it all the time to keep continuity, but not in droves like this shift might entail.

Even if All My Children retains its actors, continuity, and most importantly its identity, can they really trust that its loyal following will watch online? My 60 year-old mother is your average AMC loyalist, and even though she is a doctor in mathematics and as smart as they come, you will not catch her anytime soon pairing her smart phone with her laptop and entertainment system. The All My Children generation is an older generation, maybe reluctant or even unable to access their favorite episodes from a high speed connection.

Watching a bit of the final episode today made me feel old. Tad had grey hair. Brook looked ancient. The only person
who didn’t look old was Susan Lucci, who obviously made a landmark deal with Satan himself a long time ago. I remember when I was 5 years old, and my babysitter used to watch All My Children. I had a huge crush on Kim Delaney, who played Jenny, (and who oddly enough was just in the news).

In 1980 there were 12 soap operas on network television, with CBS, ABC, and NBC having 4 each. The highest rated show was General Hospital, with a 9.9 rating for the season. In January 2012, after One Life to Live leaves ABC, there will only be 4 soap operas left on all of network TV. The highest rated show today is the Young and the Restless, with measly ratings in the 3 to 4 range.

Soaps have been on decline for years, but the free-fall really began with the success of talk shows. It costs so much less to produce a cooking show or talk show than a soap. This phenomenon is not just a daytime one. The top 5 primetime shows today, according to Nielsen, are all reality shows. There were even signs of this trend before reality TV. In the mid-90′s soap operas all but disappeared for almost 2 years because of the appetite for OJ coverage. It was obvious then, as it is now, that no writer and actor could simulate the allure of surreality better than real people in real situations.

A couple weeks ago, during the tenth anniversary of 9/11, I watched hours of footage of the World Trade Center collapse. I remembered once again that no horror movie or armageddon movie I had ever seen could surpass that image of terror. That is the power of reality. The Chew, which debuts in AMC‘s spot on Monday, is no 9/11, but it would seem to satisfy our hypnosis to the more benign rhetorical side of reality found in talk shows. Either way, there is something to be said for soap operas, which take you away from reality, rather than subject you to distorted versions of it.

So, if you want to see someone stand over a fake stove and tell corny jokes, then watch The Chew. But if you want to see someone come out of coma only to find that his brother married his lesbian wife, then join the new All My Children generation…online.

The recent landscape of American television has been dominated by shows about motorcycle dudes, tattoo shops, vampires, pawn shops, and swamps. It’s like America is suddenly obsessed with the state of Florida (zing!) I am not really into any of those shows, but the Soap Opera Network has afforded me the opportunity to take a not always pleasant trip down memory lane by showing reruns of Beverly Hills, 90210. It’s always refreshing to revisit my pimply high school years via a show about good looking rich kids who looked, acted, and lived like they were ten years older than they really were.

This summer has been full of bad news. But I have been blissfully ignorant to all this debt ceiling nonsense – I don’t read or watch the news. I am too busy catching up with Breaking Bad, creating playlists on Spotify, and playing trains with Jack to pay attention to the news. And to be honest, I’m broke anyway, so if the country collapses the United States government will be walking in my shoes. Right now, I would certainly welcome the mo’ problems that the Notorious B.I.G warned came with having mo’ money. And the fact that I don’t participate in fantasy sports is starting to shine through as well, since I had no idea who any of these great players the Philadelphia Eagles have signed lately.

It certainly has been an eventful summer. One event from this summer I am still reeling from is a sight I saw last weekend at a Wawa when I was coming home from the Shore. I witnessed a very attractive woman snap into a Slim Jim. Well, she didn’t snap into it – it was more like a chomp. Regardless, it was a very disturbing and puzzling scene. She was fit, and very pretty, and I just felt bad for her boyfriend or husband. Because when she kissed him, he was going to be tasting spicy machine processed dried meat that she just gobbled down.

During some of these hazy, lazy summer afternoons, as Jack is piloting Thomas the Train around endless tracks through my living room and kitchen, I channel surf in an attempt to find something decent to watch. I painfully admit that a very guilty pleasure of mine is to watch old episodes of Beverly Hills, 90210 when they are on. I only like the ones from the very early 90’s – the first two seasons. Before the blond kid killed himself goofing around with a loaded revolver in a scene that was more after school special than teen drama. Later in the series, the show really jumped the shark. I don’t know exactly what was going on, but it’s my understanding that Brenda was studying on the moon, the parents moved to Middle Earth, the guy who owned Peach Pit moved into the Walsh’s home, and Screech made a bunch of cameos.

The first two seasons were the best. Back in 1991, the C+C Music Factory wanted to make America sweat, Colour Me Badd wanted to sex you up, and I just wanted a girl to talk to me. For reasons that I could only attest to raging hormones and simple teenage stupidity, I was a fairly faithful watcher of 90210. I can’t explain why I watched it. I guess I felt a necessity to watch, foolishly thinking that maybe it would shed some light on how to navigate through high school. As if the goings on at a fictional high school in lavish Beverly Hills would mirror those at a middle class parochial high school in Southern New Jersey. What a joke. The show dealt with such heavy hitting topics like date rape, alcoholism, gay rights, anti-Semitism, drug abuse, abortion, teen suicide, AIDS, teen pregnancy, and bulimia. Yikes. My freshman year, my biggest problems were pimples, getting someone’s parents to pick us up from the mall, and resisting the urge to tune in to the hilarious antics of Steve Urkel on Friday nights. Maybe I was the lucky one, while these Beverly Hills teenagers were dealing with a different crisis on a weekly basis, I was living an innocent adolescence of playing Nintendo, throwing water balloons at unsuspecting passerby, and making crank phone calls to Chinese restaurants.     

Make no bones about it, I really hated the show. It drove me nuts. I know that my scorn stems from the fact that I was jealous of these sharply dressed, finely styled, teenagers who seemed to have it so easy. After every episode I would ask – why isn’t my life like this? Why can’t my dad (an elementary school principal) get a promotion out to Beverly Hills? And why can’t I grow my sideburns like Dylan and Brandon? I couldn’t stand that Steve and his smug, self-assured, shit-eating grin. And Brendan, who was so good-hearted and chivalrous, was bedding a different girl every episode- how did he get away with that? Ugh, and that Dylan, that brooding, furrowed brow, ersatz James Dean. These guys were supposed to be in high school? I’m 35 now, and still have a way better hairline than any of those dudes did back then.     

 I don’t ever remember thinking that any of the girls on the show were attractive. In all honesty, the harsh truth is that Jason Priestly was technically “prettier” than the girls on that show. Watching now, Tori Spelling looked like a horse and was the worst nepotism case in history. Jennie Garth (Kelly) looked like a ghastly mouse, Andrea looked like a mom, and Brenda just looked like a total bitch. However, Tiffani Amber Thiessen (aka Kelly Kapowski) eventually became a cast member – next to Belinda Carlisle, she is one of my lifetime celebrity crushes.      

They had everything – Dylan drove some classic convertible that was on par with Cameron’s dad’s car in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. My car choices were my parent’s 1985 Pontiac station wagon with wood grain siding, or a 1971 Ford Maverick that looked like it belonged on the set of the Mad Max movie series. For Spring Break, they would vacation in Palm Springs at luxurious hotels throwing raging parties and living it up. We would rent some flea bitten motel in Wildwood, New Jersey with a pool that was empty except for a few dead rodents at the bottom. And ”parties” where there would be 3 girls (who had boyfriends) and 20 guys in jean shorts vigilantly hovering over their 12 packs of warm Busch Light.    

The episode that addressed racism was always a favorite of mine. When Brendan befriends a black student, he nobly defends the kid from racial slurs and discrimination. While I always applauded the show for tackling that topic, the ironic thing was that it was the first time the show ever featured any African American actors! You can taste the hypocrisy! If I was black, I think I would be more insulted by that concept than any of the racial content of the show.

For the nostalgic value alone of seeing the outfits, hearing the music, and looking at the hairdo’s – it has been funny to watch some of these old 90210’s. Regardless of the bad sentiment they can drum up. It would have been nice if I could have visited my 14 year old self in the DeLorean and assured 14 year old Marty that yes, eventually you would date some very attractive girls, the acne would clear up, and the kids you envied who wore Z Cavarricci’s would eventually be teased for wearing Z Cavarrici’s. And now they have a 90210 remake – I don’t know why I didn’t try out. At 35, I am still a way more convincing high schooler than Ian Ziering or Luke Perry!

If, say, Descartes were to come back from the grave and host a talk show, I would watch it, daily. I would also occasionally watch an episode of Jerry Springer, but I would never watch Oprah, may her show rest in peace.

I have nothing against Oprah as a person. I have plenty against Jerry Springer as a person and, aside from the annoyingly mathematical miseries he caused for me in my younger days, I have no opinion whatever about Descartes as a dude.  But here’s my problem: If I watch TV, I want either brilliance or absolute melt-into-the-couch drivel — Cops, or World’s Dumbest, for instance. I can’t be bothered with middle-of-the-road quality in a TV show. Oprah is arguably a genius, in a lot of ways, but her show is pretty run-of-the-mill, on the intellectual scale. Not delightfully bad, not intellectually stimulating . . . just . . . there.

Many shows that people see as top-quality, I would argue fall into the Oprah range. And why not? Demographics, right? Most people fall into the “average” intelligence range; hence, the label. But what bothers me is that some of these average shows prance around pretending to be really smart. The rub, here, is that slicker isn’t necessarily smarter. I would argue that some of the old, corny shows are just as well-written or, sometimes, even better written than the new, slick ones; they just come up short on bling and hipness.

I’m not going to get into many examples of shows I think are guilty of posing as “smart,” in the interest of keeping readers — except for one show: Grey’s Anatomy. I’m not saying it’s not a decent show. It’s fine. But it has those little monologues over montages that purport to delve into the trials and tribulations of young doctorhood; these monologues are the perfect examples of what I’m talking about. To me, they are are empty and prosaic — consequently, they become filler and not elaboration or even real commentary on the plot or on the characters. The show is the perfect example of style as a smokescreen for a lack of substance.

If you look back at the old shows — the ones that are so corny now — I think you might find that there is just as much merit behind the bubblegum exteriors. Is The Brady Bunch really any less well-written than Grey’s Anatomy? The difference is that there is no pretense of coolness or brilliance in The Brady Bunch — because it simply contains neither element. It is a show written by industry pros who were interested in keeping viewers for thirty minutes, through the commercials, not in shining a light upon the dark caves in the human soul. (Well, except maybe for the football in the nose episode. That was deep.)

Shows like this — or better ones, like The Waltons or Little House on the Prairie or Cheers — are not inferior, from a craft standpoint, to Grey’s Anatomy, which walks around in its professor’s robes, elongating its vow-ehls and trying to pass off scenes of juvenile sexuality as intense human collisions in the demolition derby world of medicine.

What’s the difference? I think it is the writers’ mindset. The TV writers of the past strike me more as people who considered themselves craftsmen: weave a good story; make ‘em laugh; make ‘em cry. With many current shows, there is a pathetic kind of plea in much of the writing. This plea amounts to the writers metaphorically begging that we all notice that they have degrees in English; that they understand subtext so well that they are going to provide Sparknotes in voice-overs and musical montages and turn theme into in-your-face text. It’s like they are writing a blue book exam with their English 322 professor looking over their shoulder and breathing Captiain Black breath down their necks.

With all of this said, I’ll be darned if during episodes of classic television, I wasn’t, from time to time, hit with a life-changing idea, right before the first commercial break.

Well, all I know is that, one of the best-written comedies of all time, The Dick Van Dyke Show, never had a minute of pretense in it. And, for all its TaoTe Ching-ness, Kung Fu, as a show, remained as humble and as brilliant and as balanced as its peacefully pugilistic protagonist, Kwai Chang Caine.

And not one monologue/voice-over to be found.*

At the end of a really good show, there is something left for the smart reader to dig out, but if he never digs anything out of it, he can, at least, walk away entertained.

(*The Waltons was, of course, famous for its voice-over opening and closing narrations by John Boy, but they always seemed more for exposition and conclusion than for forced revelation, to me.)

Chris Matarazzo’s ARTISTIC UNKNOWNS appears every Tuesday.

10. Your play about General Schwarzkopf is called The Book of Norman

9. At least twice a week, another Spidey stuntman is maimed or killed

8. Trying to cash in on jukebox musicals like Mamma Mia and Movin’ Out, your new musical is called Ice Ice Baby

7. The marquee reads “Pauly Shore Is Jean Valjean”

6. Your Feydeau farce features Arnold Schwarzenegger and Dominique Strauss-Kahn chasing the French maid

5. No matter how good it is, your fifth-grade production of Death of a Salesman is not eligible

4. Instead of “Author! Author!” audience shouts “Boo! Kill!”

3. All the dialogue has been translated into Portuguese, because it loses something in the original

2. Your choreographer is straight

1. Your one-man show dealt mainly with your tiger’s blood, Adonis DNA, and fire-breathing fists

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

I’ve mentioned a time or two that my cousin Ben Schwartz is on the verge of Hollywood fame and fortune. His most well-known role so far is Jean-Ralphio on Parks and Recreation. I’ve told Ben that what I really want to see on TV is Jean-Ralphio with his own spinoff sitcom. Maybe a wealthy relative leaves him a hotel to manage in Pawnee. But, since Ben is in a new show House of Lies on Showtime, I guess Jean-Ralphio won’t be managing a hotel any time soon. Fortunately, someone recently posted a Jean-Ralphio compilation on YouTube:

On Sunday, TLC ran two Christmas-themed episodes of the program “Sister Wives,” which follows the polygamist Brown family. The episodes were filmed four months after the Browns “came out,” and were being investigated by the Lehigh County sheriff’s department. It was this investigation that led to the Browns leaving Utah for Nevada, which is presumably less intolerant of polygamy, at least reality television polygamy.

Intercut with a montage of the numerous Brown children dressing their Christmas tree (at a treacherously placed cabin the middle of a forbidding area of snow-covered Utah), father Kody Brown tearfully explains that families convicted of committing the “crime” of polygamy are broken up. Third wife Christine tells us that her grandparents were jailed for polygamy, with the wives separated and children sent off to various foster families, with all contact broken off.

It was about as moving a scene as you can expect from a reality show, but imagine if the Browns lived in Broward County?

Another TLC program, “Police Women of Broward County,” follows a group of tough, semiphotogenic women who work for the police force of Broward County, Florida. Here is how wikipedia describes one of the show’s cast members:

* Andrea Penoyer

Andrea is the total package — a smart and spunky 26-year old with a passion for her job. She’s the only woman on one of South Florida’s most effective anti-crime units. Andrea and her colleagues sweep the streets, work undercover and conduct intensive drug busts. Fast on her feet, she is the runner on the team and pops out of the car to chase the bad guy and take him down. They use whatever tactical methods are necessary to make the streets safer.

During the first season Andrea was a single mother, spending all her time off working out and training with her 8-year-old son, Dominic, who’s typically glued to her hip. She takes him running, boxing, to the gym and even to the gun range. She wants Dominic to be tough and pushes him to be the best — in the same way she pushes herself. Between seasons, she became engaged with a single father with four children.

Andrea is also studying for a B.A. in public administration.

You know, wikipedia, sometimes I wonder about the impartiality of your articles.

Anyway, here is a picture of Andrea “Total Package” Penoyer:

It's not all breaking down doors and Tasering "perps" on "Police Women of Broward County"-- there's also time for lounging on the beach in a bikini.

And here is the “Total Package” offering up her philosophy of law enforcement, in a trailer for the first season of the show:

(via Radley Balko’s great Agitator website.)

There is always a good time to use a Taser, she gloats. The one depicted in a bikini, sunbathing, claims that there is always a good time to use a Taser.

Always a good time to use a Taser:

An 18-year-old Northeast Philadelphia man died Thursday after police Tasered him twice, authorities said.

Family members identified the dead man as Patrick Johnson. He had the mental capacity of a child, family members said.

Always a good time to use a Taser:

A federal appeals court says three Seattle police officers did not employ excessive force when they repeatedly tasered a visibly pregnant woman for refusing to sign a speeding ticket.

Always a good time to use a Taser:

Deputy Chris Bieze stopped Winkfein for speeding. After he completed the paper work — she refused to sign it. That’s when things got ugly. According to the deputy, he shoved Winkfein so she would get away from the side of the highway.

The elderly woman started to tease the officer… “daring” him to use his taser on her. He warned her several times she was in danger of being tasered.

The officer eventually did use the device that delivers a shock. Winkfein wasn’t hurt, but you can hear here moans of agony on the tape right after it happened.

Always a good time to use a Taser:

Police Tasered an 86-year-old disabled grandma in her bed and stepped on her oxygen hose until she couldn’t breathe, after her grandson called 911 seeking medical assistance, the woman and her grandson claim in Oklahoma City Federal Court. Though the grandson said, “Don’t Taze my granny!” an El Reno police officer told another cop to “Taser her!” and wrote in his police report that he did so because the old woman “took a more aggressive posture in her bed,” according to the complaint.

Always a good time to use a Taser:

Police in Mobile, Alabama, used pepper spray and a Taser on a deaf, mentally disabled who they said wouldn’t leave a store’s bathroom.

Always a good time to use a Taser:

Donnell Williams, a Wichita man who is effectively deaf without his hearing aids, was tasered by police in his own bathroom while wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Why were the cops in the mans bathroom? They had busted into the man’s house chasing down a reported shooting, which turns out to have been a false report.

Always a good time to use a Taser:

The rate of deaths in Taser-related incidents is rising as police forces increasingly adapt the conducted energy weapons, a Raw Story analysis finds.

A 2008 report (PDF) from Amnesty International found 351 Taser-related deaths in the US between June, 2001 and August, 2008, a rate of just slightly above four deaths per month.

A database of Taser-related deaths maintained at the African-American issues blog Electronic Village counts 96 deaths related to the use of Tasers since January, 2009.

Most people think of Tasers as the “safe,” “non-lethal” alternative to guns. Andrea “Total Package” Penoyer is a dangerous, misinformed authoritarian whose sense of entitlement has been amplified by the presence of cameras following and celebrating her every move.

“Police Women of Broward County” isn’t the only reality program that follows corrections officers. It isn’t even the only “Police Women of” series on TLC. Spinoffs include PWO Memphis, Maricopa County, and Dallas. At reason.com, Radley Balko lists at least eight others. In that same article, he distills the problem of law enforcement reality shows:

Cop reality shows glamorize all the wrong aspects of police work. Their trailers depict lots of gun pointing, door-busting, perp-chasing, and handcuffing. Forget the baton-twirling Officer Friendly. To the extent that the shows aid in the recruiting of new police officers, they’re almost certainly pulling people attracted to the wrong parts of the job.

To keep people watching, the footage has to be sensational. Smashing in doors, Tasering, punching, pointing guns. By their very natures, these programs encourage a dangerous attitude among the people they follow.

There is always a good time to use a Taser

Let us not forget the case of seven year old Aiyana Stanley-Jones, who was killed by a SWAT team in Detroit as they attempted to serve a search warrant:

At the little girl’s home to execute a search warrant in a homicide investigation, they threw a flash bang — also known as a stun grenade — through the front window of the crowded apartment … onto the couch where Aiyana was sleeping. Aiyana caught fire. As her grandmother tried to put out the flames, police entered, and a gun went off. Aiyana was shot in the neck and pronounced dead at the hospital.

This SWAT team was trying to create exciting footage for one of those cable network law enforcement reality shows:

The day before, Fieger, who once represented Dr. Jack Kevorkian, claimed he had seen videotape of the incident filmed by a reality-TV crew that had accompanied the police. He alleged that police, moreover, may have raided the wrong side of the duplex, since the 34-year-old suspect was eventually arrested in another part of the building.

(By the way, the show was A&E’s “The First 48.”)

So, as bad as it is that the Browns have to uproot themselves, leave their friends and schools and their entire lives and start over in another state in order to escape prosecution for committing a non-violent and victimless crime, at least they’re on “Sister Wives,” and not on a TLC reality program in which they have to deal with the likes of Andrea “Total Package” Penoyer. The entire family might end up Tasered.

A quick programming note.

Lenora Claire and Justin Pearson, who have both been featured in When Falls the Coliseum‘s “Audio Files” column, will be on the Biography Channel‘s popular TV show My Ghost Story this Saturday.  Please consult your local programming guides for the correct time!

And have an outstanding weekend.