Archive | April, 2012

Late Night Movie House of Crap: The Newlywed Game

19 Apr

April 19, 2012

For those of you unfamiliar with the classic version of The Newlywed Game (not the awful version with Carnie Wilson) check this out and then I’ll be back to explain some more.

This was a Chuck Barris-produced show in which married couples were split up and asked the same questions. One partner had to predict how the other would answer the same question and the couple with the most matches won. Simple. The fun of it was that the host, Bob Eubanks, had the amazing ability to ask even the most innocent question in a sexually-tinged way. Of course, there were few “innocent” questions- the phrase “making whoopie” popped up a lot- but even the innocent ones were designed to sound dirty. And it helped that the contestants were not chosen for their Mensa scores.

What I am posting next is one episode in its entirety, in three parts. This is the notorious “Archie and Edith” episode in which the contestants look and sound and act eerily like the Bunkers from All in the Family. I won’t spoil it for you, but wait for the exchange that follows “think of the children.”  But don’t count out the other contestants. There is a strange man with a poor command of the English language who looks very much like Patrick Troughton and his young wife. (She married for money, he for a green card is my theory.) There is the snooty banker-type (his moment to shine comes late in part three) and the man whose remark about premeditation hints at more in his past than I would like to speculate.

Settle back and watch this all the way through. I first caught this episode on the Game Show Network a few years ago and I still have it on my TiVo today. Enjoy it now and thank me later.

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I Am Mr. Wonderful

18 Apr

April 18, 2012

None of those guys are Mr. Wonderful. Ok, Paul Orndorff used that gimmick for a lot of years, and Kevin O’Leary on Shark Tank lays claim to it, but Joe Pesci? He’s Tommy from Goodfellas, no more no less. And Sammy? He’s the Candy Man.

So who is Mr. Wonderful?

I am Mr. Wonderful.

How else to explain all this?

– I was walking in the lobby talking to Saarah when someone I barely know, whose face I have seen but his name I have forgotten, stuck his head in front of mine and, while almost causing a collision, reached out to shake my hand.

– Someone I never met before came up to me and congratulated me for something she had no way of knowing and struck up a conversation about how I did it.

– A co-worker stood up and bowed to me as I passed his desk.

– Another co-worker was steaming with jealousy.

Obviously these people are nuts. Who am I that they are all suddenly sucking up to me? 

I am Mr. Wonderful, AKA the guy who just got promoted way above them, that’s who.

To be fair, I am going to another office in another line of business. And to be even more fair, while I am about to outrank my current supervisor, he is still my boss for the next two weeks.

It has zero to do with me, everything to do with my title. And while you may think you’d enjoy a little sucking up (and you would be totally right) it gets old fast. There are plenty of genuine congratulations out there, thank you very much, I do not need phony platitudes. Am I going to reach out and do a favor to a total stranger some years from now because he shook my hand one day?

I think not.

Will I remember the complete stranger who showed up and ate a piece of my celebration cake after I was gracious enough to offer it only because she spent ten minutes staring at it?

No.

Will I recall the name of the guy who, in the men’s room, struck up a conversation about my job while all I wanted to do was leave?

I never knew his name to begin with.

I will remember the people who were good to me when we all started and we were equals. I will remember the people who helped me out when they did not have to. I will remember the ones who were good to me because I was me and they knew me, not because they knew I had a title.

I have eight days left in my current office. Not a day has gone by that some stranger has not come up to me like he is my long-lost brother. Don’t bother. When I leave next week I am not expecting a fuss, I am not expecting a party. But I do expect to say goodbye to some of the genuine people.

 

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