This is the huge, orange face America eventually grew to love.
Prefatory notes by the author: "Larry" was actually written back in 2008 when there was such a thing as Larry King Live on television. The way it came about was that I was browsing through CNN's website and found some old Larry King transcripts there. Reading through them, I realized that Mr. King's particular brand of rambling, disjointed insanity was even funnier when soberly transcribed word for word. Believe me, what you're about to read is only a mild exaggeration of an actual King interview. Also, back when I wrote this, I was a professional transcriptionist and spent many hours and days and weeks of my life listening to recordings of focus groups and telephone surveys and converting them into text documents. So I was in complete sympathy with the person who had the task of transcribing Larry King Live. By the way, woodchucks are funny to me for some reason. Enjoy.
When you saw this cat, that meant the show was over, man.
TV theme songs are dying, and Madison Avenue is killing them. Thanks to an ever-increasing number of commercials allowed per half hour by the FCC, the old standard 24-minute television episode was shortened to a mere 22 minutes.
The incredible shrinking sitcom wasn't done with its reverse growth spurt yet! The average new episode of a supposed half-hour comedy now clocks in at something like 20.5 minutes, with the other 9.5 going to ads for Geico, State Farm, All State, Nationwide, Esurance, and many other insurance companies, all of whom truly love and care about you, really. That's not even counting the time devoted to product placement during the episodes themselves. ("Your mother-in-law is coming for two weeks? Where's she gonna sleep? On our $499 Karlstad beige natural sofa from Ikea?")
With the insatiable admen gobbling up more and more of each program, TV sitcoms now have less time to themselves to, you know, actually tell the little stories they're supposed to tell. As a result, the once-vaunted TV theme song -- for my money, one of the great art forms of the 20th Century -- is now an endangered species, either cut down to just a few seconds or even removed entirely.
And those are just the opening theme songs! What about the distinctive closing theme songs that TV shows used to have? I'm afraid those truly are a goner. But before they disappear from our screens and our memories forever, I thought I'd give a rundown of some personal favorites. WKRP IN CINCINNATI (1978-1982)
No discussion of great closing theme songs could ever be complete without mention of the famously-incoherent, famously-awesome closing tune from WKRP in Cincinnati. Composed and performed by a quirky Atlanta musician named Jim Ellis, this unhinged, almost animal-like ditty is forever lodged in the subconscious memories of countless baby boomers and Generation X-ers, many of whom lost precious hours trying to decipher the lyrics. They need not have bothered: Ellis never came up with actual lyrics for the song (whose only known title is "WKRP Close"), so he muttered some nonsense with a few intelligible words like "bartender" thrown in. The song becomes like an audio Rorschach Test. You hear in it what you want to hear.
THE BRADY BUNCH (1969-1974)
Pretty much all the 1960s and 1970s shows associated with producer Sherwood Schwartz, including Gilligan's Island and It's About Time, have better-than-average theme songs. Schwartz took a particular interest in this aspect of his programs, often writing or co-writing the themes himself. Maybe the most indelible and diabolical of his creations is the instantly-familiar theme song for what is, hands down, the corniest family sitcom of all time, The Brady Bunch. I must have loved this show when I was a kid. For years, it was a favorite in syndication, and I can remember watching the reruns on pretty much a daily basis. I'm sure I've seen every Brady episode at least two or three times apiece. Maybe I was tuning in just to hear the funky, organ-accented instrumental version of the theme which ran over the closing credits.
SESAME STREET (1969- ) One place where the theme song will never, ever die is PBS, namely because they don't have to deal with TV commercials and can fill up their hours and half-hours with more actual content... that is, when they're not begging for pledges like common panhandlers. Like most of you who grew up in front of the idiot box, I have especially fond memories of Sesame Street. I was in it for the puppets and the cartoons, baby, not all that "ABCs and 123s" jazz. Whatta show. It was like a Saturday Night Live or Monty Python for preschoolers. And thank the good lord and savior Jim Henson that I got in and out before the onslaught of Elmo and all he stood for. Anyway, the end of each Sesame Street episode was always a mixed blessing for me as a kid. While I was sad to the see the episode expire, leaving me to the tender mercies of The McNeil-Lehrer News Hour or some such, I was psyched to hear the superbad closing theme music.
Though just about every aspect of the Muppet universe has been captured in excruciating detail, there is precious little information available about this song. It's considered merely an instrumental version of Joe Raposo's opening song, but it strays quite far from its progenitor. Some fans have nicknamed it "Funky Chimes," though, and MF Doom sampled it on a typically spacey track called "Kookies."
ARCHER (2010-)
Another place where theme songs will never die is animated cartoons. Animation is slow, expensive, and complicated to produce, and theme songs help to eat up time. Have you noticed that most long-running animated shows (The Simpsons, Family Guy, South Park) tend to have fairly elaborate title sequences? The longer the theme, the shorter the rest of the show. FX's spy spoof Archer has a great title sequence of its own, but perhaps even more memorable is the hep, swingin' tune which plays over the end credits. "The Killer" by Mel Young and His Orchestra was not written or recorded especially for the series. It's a piece of stock music dating back to the 1960s. I wish I could tell you more about Mr. Young, but I can't find much about the guy. But here's another Mel Young track called "On the Beat."And here's something by Mel called "Stockpot" from 1968.
Harvey Kneeslapper and his frequent victim, Mr. Johnson, on Sesame Street.
Most of us know what to do in case of a knock knock joke. If you're not the one telling the joke, your responsibility is clear. You have two lines, both questions: "Who's there?" and "________ who?" Those are easy enough to remember. But what happens if the joke itself is in the form of a question? Are you supposed to actually answer it in an intelligent fashion, like you've really put some thought into, let's say, how many Christian Scientists it takes to change a light bulb? The answer is no.
Most likely, the joke teller just wants you to say, "I don't know." Practice saying that with me. I don't know. Good. If you really want to participate in the joke-telling process, you can say, "I don't know" and then repeat the original question, often with an emphasis on the second word. An example: "I don't know. What do you get when you cross a goat and an owl?" And then the joke-teller will tell you the punchline. That's how jokes work.
Don't try to guess at the answer. You're just wasting further time and making an already unpleasant experience worse. In fact, don't even bother with the "repeating the question" thing. Just say, "I don't know." Follow these simple guidelines, and you, too, can be an effective joke recipient.
By the way, it takes one Christian Scientist to change a light bulb. He just prays for the old bulb to start working again. And the unlikely crossbreeding of an owl and a goat would yield a hootenanny.
A sad-looking Oscar the Grouch contemplates his existence.
Think for a moment aboutOscar the Grouch, the green-furred, trashcan-dwelling resident of Sesame Street. Despite his famously cantankerous nature, he seems like a happy, confident guy doesn't he? I'm starting to wonder, though, if perhaps his grouchiness is merely a defense mechanism for his very real inner pain. He is very much ostracized from the rest of society on Sesame Street, and I think this has led to deep feelings of insecurity. As a living impaired American, I can certainly empathize with Oscar's situation.
And that's why I have created this little photographic tribute to Sad Oscar.
To paraphrase C. Montgomery Burns: Oh, Zomby, will you ever win?
But speaking of the legends of animation...
Forty years before the Annoying Orange
It's strange what sticks with you from childhood. For years, I have been haunted by the memory of a particular stop-motion film from Sesame Street. The clip in question involved an orange who comes to "life" and sings the famed "Habanera" aria from Georges Bizet's 1875 opera Carmen. A little research turns up the fact that this clip dates back to Episode 277 from November 9, 1971 -- almost exactly 40 years ago. A YouTube clip attributes the film to Jim Henson, but I could find no confirmation of this. In any event, the film aired regularly on the show for years, warping the minds of several generations in the process.
Here's the notorious clip:
There's an eerie, David Lynch-eseque quality to this film, heightened by the quasi-futuristic synthesizer music. I personally remember loving this as a kid, but also being sort of scared of it.
