In eight illustrated books, elegantly held together in a single beribboned case, McSweeney's Issue 28 explores the state of the fable. For the next two days, it's $5 off. - - - - |
- - - - Murder, She Wrote I think an excellent final episode of "Murder, She Wrote" would have been if there had been yet another murder in Cabot Cove,
and Jessica and her friends started investigating it, and then, around the thirty-five minute mark, just as all the evidence was
beginning to point toward one of the guest Cheers Sure, Cheers is entertaining enough in its own right, but if you pretend that Sam and Diane are secretly brother and sister, it sends the sexual tension right through the roof. M*A*S*H The only plausible explanation for why the TV program The Dukes of Hazzard While "The Dukes of Hazzard" was entertaining enough, there seems to be another, even more fascinating show, lurking in the background, namely: What, precisely, is going on at the roads department of Hazzard County? Given that there's always at least one bridge out in Hazzard County, they must be off solving crimes or something. I like to imagine a show about them; every week, they set out to fix the bridge over the holler, and then they come across Bigfoot or the Lindbergh baby or something and get all distracted. Veronica's Closet I like to believe that the cast of Veronica's Closet still gathers once a week to "tape" a "show", because nobody has the heart to tell Kirstie Alley that the network pulled the plug three years ago. Local News I think it's always an excellent joke when local newscasters playfully tease their weatherman about how lousy the weather is — like, "Oh, Stu, don't tell us there's going to be more rain!" or "Stu's not going to give us any relief from this heat wave, are you, Stu?" or whatever — because, you know, what's Stu going to do about it? But I'll bet that every once in a while, a lifetime of catching flack about the weather — which, if you're a trained meteorologist, you know better than anyone is beyond human control — must finally begin to wear at a man's soul, and I'm guessing in the vault of some local TV station, somewhere, there's footage of a weatherman finally snapping and screaming, "You know, I didn't give you shit about the toddler who got set on fire that led the newscast." Knight Rider Let us now consider how much more cost-effective it would have been for Wilton Knight to have simply given David Hasselhoff a very clever chauffeur, played by William Daniels.
OTHER McSWEENEY'S STORIES:
Short Imagined Monologues By Steve Martin Just Call Me Zippy, An Interview With Amy Barich By Suzanne Yeagley McSweeney's Brain Exploder By Carlton Doby Journal Entries from Sara Grady, Who is Studying Horseshoe Crabs on Cape Cod By Sara Grady Opening By J. Robert Lennon |
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