I’m not kidding. There are things you might not want to know and, frankly, things I wish I didn’t know. And some of those will be revealed over the next few paragraphs. So, if you’re the squeamish type, I’ll understand it if you decide to move along. Thanks for the page hit; we’ll catch up later.
It used to be that in order to hear about … well, for lack of a better word … icky stuff, you’d have to get an Afterschool Special or a Movie of the Week. Some medical disorder never discussed by Marcus Welby or afflicting any of The Waltons would be contained to a lovely two-hour block of TV time that, if you chose to, you could ignore.
Take, for instance, the 1976 film “The Loneliest Runner.” Written, directed by, produced by and co-starring Michael Landon, the TV film told the story of a teen who grows up to become an Olympic runner. Safe enough, right? HA! The reason the boy becomes a star athlete is that he’d run home from school every day because his mother would hang his bedsheets out the window of their home every time he wet the bed. Landon, to his credit, said it was a story born from his own experiences.
And while the movie helped humanize the trauma, it broke open the door to what could be talked about on TV. Daytime talk shows, of course, routinely include material so seemingly private as to make bed-wetting seem quaint. Athletes and presidential candidates have made commercials about the benefits of pills to counteract erectile dysfunction.
Name a body part and — at some point during the day — you more than likely can find a commercial, talk show or sitcom discussing what spews from it. One infomercial for a colon-cleaning supplement details the final days of John Wayne. … Don’t ask. … Really, don’t.
Now this isn’t to say that earwax and bellybutton lint (and more severe issues) aren’t important to know about or, at times, in need of appropriate treatment. Of course they are. And maybe this sounds a tad too puritanical or old-fashioned or stigma-bound, but … there really ARE some things we’d rather not hit us smack in the face on our widescreens at dinnertime.
The latest incarnation of this phenomenon comes courtesy of Whoopi Goldberg, who is now the spokeswoman for something know as LBL … “light bladder leakage.” In commercials and a series of short, humorous videos on the “1 in 3 Like Me” Web site, the Oscar-winning co-host of “The View” bonds with those who suffer from the condition while donning the charcaters of Eve, the Statue Of Liberty, Lady Godiva and others. Although the concept of the Statue of Liberty being afflicted by such problems takes some imagination to envision.
The Web site dispenses advice, both medical and personal, includes testimonials from women whose lives have been affected by LBL, and links to products that can help deal with the condition. All of which is well, and good, and necessary.
At the same time, it further breaks down the fourth wall between those who entertain us and the messy realities of life. Our loss, and our gain.
The ad, shown here, features the character of Lucy T. (for The) Slut, who is described as ”a sexy, promiscuous nightclub singer. She seduces Princeton and subsequently leaves him, and in the process is sent to the hospital after Kate unintentionally drops a penny on her head from the top of the Empire State Building.” She later becomes a born-again Christian and reaffirms her chastity.
The Magic Of Merlin Olsen
Merlin Olsen died this week. He had been battling cancer for the past couple of years, so it wasn’t a surprise that he had passed away. What was surprising was his age.
Merlin Olsen was 69. Which seems impossible … since it seemed like he had been around forever.
In 1968, Olsen sang “Under the Boardwalk” with his Los Angeles Rams defensive linemates (known as the “Fearsome Foursome”) on ABC’s “The Hollywood Palace” variety show. Variety shows were big back then, and the “Hollywood Palace” attracted every name star of the day to its stage. The “Palace” doesn’t exist anymore, and the Rams — no longer in Los Angeles — are anything but fearsome these days.
Merlin Olsen
Olsen, a college and professionall Hall of Fame football player, made the jump to the TV broadcast booth in the late 1970s and, as a sidelight, became an actor. He played good old boys and tough guys in movies, but found a home on “Little House on the Prairie” as Michael Landon’s sidekick Jonathan Garvey. Landon, who knew all about acting alongside big softies from his days with Dan “Hoss” Blocker on “Bonanza,” developed a brotherly rivalry with Olsen.
After “Little House,” Olsen went on to “Father Murphy” and “Aaron’s Way,” each less successful but which kept his face in front of viewers. At the same time, Olsen became the unlikely TV spokesman for FTD florists — a big guy talking about budding bouquets or holding a dozen roses.
We don’t have celebrities like Merlin Olsen today. We have fast-rising young stars who are often replaced in a few years by other fast-rising younger stars. Today’s TV stars more often than not try to do other series (and mostly fail) and if they do TV ads at all, it’s voice-over narration so as to ikeep their identity a guessing game.
They’ll do the late-night talk shows … but mostly to promote their latest endeavour, not entertain. And we know so much about our sports heroes these days, they’re so controlled by agents and media handlers, that you can’t imagine of one taking Merlin Olsen’s path through celebrityland.
For some reason, Olsen’s death made me think of Neil Patrick Harris opening the Oscars with a song-and-dance number. Harris was “Doogie Howser, M.D.”; now he’s Barney on “How I Met Your Mother.” He’s hosted the Emmys and the Tonys, and has become a cult favorite with movies such as “Starship Troopers” and “Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle” … and on the Internet with such projects as “Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog.”
It isn’t a stretch to imagine Neil Patrick Harris on “The Hollywood Palace.” Like Merlin Olsen, he appears to be someone who’ll just seem to have been around forever.