SNL: Past, Present, & Future

It’s the Christmas episode, our last Saturday Night Live of 2009, with…Hold up. Really? 2009?? In less than two weeks it will be 2010??? As children, 2010 denoted our concept of future. This is NOT the future. I specifically remember the future not sucking. The present sucked, but the future was going to be marvelous. It still sucks, so this must still be the present. Whatever, let’s move on.

It’s the Christmas episode, our last Saturday Night Live of 2009, with…I can’t do this. 2010? It shan’t be acknowledged. That makes me thirt…It shan’t be acknowledged. Let’s take it back to a more hopeful time, even if it’s just for pretend.

It’s the Christmas episode, our last Saturday Night Live of 1999 with…No, can’t do Y2K, that wasn’t a hopeful time at all. Unless you were in the bottled water or survival kit business. Can you believe it’s been ten years since the Y2K scare? Can you believe it’s only been ten years since Y2K turned out to be a giant pile of nothing and people are still buying into 2012? It’s going to be a giant Mayan pile of nothing. Whatever. We need a hopeful year.

It’s the Christmas episode, our last Saturday Night Live of 1994, with host George Foreman and musical guest Hole. Wow. That just puts into perspective how long ago 1994 was. Pop culture, you date us like a stamp, and while age is just a number it’s a number that never lies. I guess it’s time to embrace the future that quietly became the present right under our noses. I mean, at least it’s not the last SNL of 1996, with host Rosie O’Donnell and musical guest Whitney Houston. I KNOW! That might’ve been when things started sucking. Let’s live in the now and work for a better tomorrow.

It’s the Christmas episode, our last Saturday Night Live before the future arrives, with host James Franco and musical guest Muse. P-P-P-Preview!

It nice being back in modern times. Have a fun yuletide weekend!

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

Down to the Wire

Everyone else has seen it, so why not me? I’m about to embark on the life-altering walkabout that is HBO’s THE WIRE, so that I may finally silence the cries of, “WHAT? You haven’t seen THE WIRE???” while also silencing the internal cries of “WHAT? All my serialized life diversions are on Christmas vacation???”

I will begin watching with the knowledge that having not watched means that in some ways I have yet to born. That once finished I will feel as if a part of me has died. That I will surrender the next few weeks of my life. That I will quote the show and co-opt the lingo. That it will change the way I view television, myself, and others. I will begin watching with the knowledge that I am about to make the biggest commitment of my life.

If you’ve already seen THE WIRE you are insisting that I take this plunge. “It’s SO worth it,” you say. And it probably is. But from my perspective it sounds like purposely getting addicted to something I know will be gone before my cravings are. Would you get hooked on french fries right before the Potato Famine just because these particular fries happened to be “a vibrant, masterful work of art,” “the greatest potato ever produced for the fryolator” “French fry as great modern literature, a shattering and heartbreaking epic about a potato?” I guess those fries would be pretty hard to resist.

Gosh, I’ve never been so nervous to fall in love. Go easy on me, HBO’s THE WIRE. My heart breaks easy.

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

Pick a Caption!

How could I choose one caption? Here’s five.

When asked to “make a snowman that looks like daddy” Veronica decided it was time to stop living the lie.

On the day she met her biological father Veronica learned her icy stare was a genetic trait.

“If only I had arms,” the Snowcat thought to himself, “I’d pluck this carrot nose off my face. I’m a cat damnit!”

If it was a “You’re a cat, build anything that looks like anything” competition Kitty would’ve been the runaway winner, but this was a Snowman Self-Portrait contest so Kitty only took sixth.

He was willing to accept his daughter’s passing resemblance to the family cat. He could overlook her proclivity for feline imagery. But when he discovered that her conception coincided with a business trip to Cleveland, Mr. Johnson decided it was time to confront his wife.

Now you go!

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

We are our obsessions; first, and eventually only.

If you haven’t seen the season finale of Dexter, STOP READING. Unless you like reading and don’t watch Dexter, in which case START WATCHING DEXTER and don’t stop reading. Don’t ever stop reading, it keeps your mind sharp. And you already said you like it. Just start watching Dexter also. No, not simultaneously. Gosh, you’re a very literal person.

Tensest episode ever. But with five minutes left Dexter was giving off this calm, transcendentally hopeful vibe. Admit it, for a few moments there it stopped being about him and became about all of us: Maybe we really can have it all – Job, family, friends, moral code, bloodlust hobby (in my case, S-H-O-P-P-I-N-G!!!). And then the calm departed just as quickly as it had set, hope giving way to the transcendent truism that prevails over all: If you try to balance the world on a pin your wife will be gruesomely murdered in front of your crying baby. Every time.

Here is an exact quote from me as Dexter was listening to the tone-turning voice mail from Rita: “What does that nagging bitch wan….UH-OH. She be dead.”And then it was all like, “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaamn.”

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

Twilight (Years)

Equal air time be damned! Saturday Night Live makes a political statement this weekend and that statement is TEAM JACOB. Taylor Lautner, aka New Moon’s Jacob Black, treads the boards in Studio 8A tomorrow night, along with musical guest Bon Jovi, a band nine years older than he is a person. Let’s chronJOVIology this into perspective. By the time Taylor Lautner was born all this had already happened for the Jov:

• Years of toiling in obscurity in already-obscure New Jersey before achieving massive international success with their lady-looking brand of manly love rock on the seminal album Slippery When Wet:

• Another album which was good but less good followed by a two-year “break” (international code for “if I do awesome without you we’re officially broken up and if not, I’ll see you when I fail”) that brought us mostly crap, but also this sturdy classic:

• A softer, more adult contemporary Bon Jovi, reunited to take the music world by light drizzle. Nine millions albums sold, none of them to cool people. I know because I was one of those buyers. Probably even lamely sang along to this wet rag:

What a fruity Bruce Springsteen ripoff that song is. Emphasis on the BRUCE, knowwhatI’msaying? A couple of you probably do.

Right around this time Taylor Lautner was born, and his first words were probably “Bon Jovi sucks!” Because from that point on Bon Jovi did suck. Which is not to say they made bad music – I don’t know good from bad music – only that they made rock for old people and in pop music terms that means they suck. In January of 1993, their suckitude fresh and potent, they performed on Saturday Night Live for the first time. Nearly seventeen years later, alongside a fully sprouted seedling from their last great harvest, they will suck up that hallowed stage for a fifth time.

Just think, a baby born right now could one day go on to host Saturday Night Live with musical guest Bon Jovi. Check your babies, maybe you have a winner!

As for Young Jacob Black, who can predict how he’ll do tomorrow night. Taylor Swift turned in this season’s finest performance so far and January Jones its worst. Dramatic actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt was pretty good. Comedic actor Ryan Reynolds was so-so. So if Taylor Lautner is surprisingly not bad don’t surprised…wait…how does that…?…let’s just watch and see. I mean, I saw New Moon, so I know the boy has his limitations, but I’m sure SNL will find a way to play to his strengths (abdominals).

My name is Ben and I blogged this.