Stop Ahead

Maybe you missed it, but among the day’s pressing news stories—Greece’s continued, sloppy skid into financial turmoil, the latest sordid and inept goings on with New York Governor David A. Patterson, and The Orange’s surprising and utterly depressing collapse—there was this nugget, courtesy of the New York Post: Michael Lohan is vying for a reality show.

It’s good. Better than good, really. Borders on brilliant. Here’s the high concept pitch: Cram Jon Gosselin’s ex-girlfriends into an RV and send them careening across the US.

Seriously, I’m not making this up.

As a nation, we love us a good road trip. From Road Rules to Amazing Race, networks have struck gold time and again with people traveling. And not just the networks, film studios love them with equal verve. The early 1980s gave us Cannonball Run—a madcap romp starring Burt Reynolds, Dom DeLuise, Farrah Fawcett, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr. and Terry Bradshaw, among others. Then there was Cannonball Run Two. Followed by Cannonball Run Three. Which was, if memory serves, the launching pad for the much-acclaimed Smokey and the Bandit franchise.

The point is that we’ve been there. We’ve done that. So, please, please television people, do not give this cross-country catfight a moment’s consideration. Our television psyche couldn’t handle it. Isn’t it bad enough that Kate Gosselin is on Dancing With the Stars? (Again, who is watching that show?) If nothing else, don’t disturb the traffic on Route 66—or, Route 50, if they really want to do the true coast-to-coast thing. I’m guessing after about 100 miles, it really won’t matter what highway they’re on.

Road rage will take on a whole new meaning.

Sleep Shopping

Would you believe it if I told you that I fell asleep Sleeping Beauty-style on February 15^th and awoke this morning to the realization that I’d slumbered for six weeks straight?

I know, neither would I.

And yet, I’m going with that as my excuse for not blogging. Really, it’s as good as any.

Seems in my slumber I bought a bed for the pup.


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