Friday Night, 80s style

Friday night... 1980 something.

The General Lee.

Three kids sprawled out on the floor at 1052 Hemlock Avenue in the grooviest basement of all time. Orange carpet, two red brick walls, two paneled walls. Mom sitting on the tan tweed couch. Working on her latch hook. Microwave popcorn is ready. Dukes of Hazzard is on.

But, really, we're waiting for Dallas.

Dallas, Dallas, Dallas.

I was truly too young to be watching Dallas. But, it was Friday night and I got to stay up until 10. There was no VCR, DVR or any other technology to record it and watch later so, if I was up until 10 and my mom wanted to watch Dallas, well, I got to watch it too.

It's disheartening to report that neither show holds up. I've caught a couple of marathons in recent years. Last time I had the flu I stumbled onto a Dukes marathon. At the time I thought it was a fantastic stroke of luck. Sick, miserable, catching up on some 80's tube. Turns out, the writing is terrible. Really terrible.

Best. Bad. Guy.

No part of the Dukes is even plausible. Starting with the car. Really? Was everyone that gullible in the 80's that they thought you could jump that car over every manner of barn, bridge or gully?

And then there's Dallas, where the writing is bad but the direction is worse.  How did all of America watch and wait through all those cliff hangers? JR, Bobby, Sue Ellen, Pamela, Cliff... I remember all of them and the fantastical drama.

JR Ewing was the best bad guy around. Everyone in America waited an entire summer to find out who shot him, that's how bad he was. If there is a list of people who might murder you, you're seriously bad.  He called every woman in his office 'honey' or 'darling'. I dare a guy at work to call me either one. There won't be a cliff hanger. It'll be obvious who pulled the trigger.

I was pretty young to be learning about affairs, murders, rehab... plus, you can die and come back to life all via dream... Turns out you're just in the shower... When you're angry you throw wine glasses - full. Seems like a horrible waste of wine to me, now that I'm an adult. I can get pretty angry. Scary angry, in fact. The only thing I've ever thrown across a room in anger was my own glasses. Which, was really stupid as then I just had to find them, blindly...

I think part of me thought that when I was a grown up, life would be a little more dramatic. Turns out there are no evil twins, there's not a list of people who want to kill me (that I am aware of), I've never had amnesia, there's no mansion where we all still live with our mother. You're supposedly rich, but you've never bought your own place? You still live with your 'momma'?

The producer of Dallas was Philip Capice. And my brother loved to wait for that pause, the freeze frame at the end of the show and he'd shout out, "Philip Capice!" just as the name flashed up on the screen.

And then, Friday night was over.

Forget the Charger, this is the car for me!