I’m still trying to figure out why I read “Supermoderate!”–a print-only article in The New Yorker about Arnold’s progress as governor– from beginning to end, but maybe it’d just be easier if I linked to the post mortem. Part of the reason I enjoyed it was because of my own ignorance. Yeah, I knew the Governator won the election, which in itself was a complicated affair fraught with buzzwords like “recall,” “Gray Davis,” and “I hate him.” Beyond that, however, the specifics were pretty fuzzy.
While it’s clear that the reporter dislikes Arnold in an “omigod I bet this naïve yet crafty cybernetic organism is headed toward an electrical time rift and he’s going to steal all our clothes and shotguns after sending California deeper into debt” kind of way, the article is balanced and inclusive enough to make for a good read. You might want to pick it up. It’s the kind of article you’d enjoy while relaxing with your favorite beverage, at least until you spill your beverage all over the magazine and ruin everything. Shame on you for doing so, gentle reader.
The office goes to Great America tomorrow, gentle reader, and I’m beginning to think there are better ways to die. When all is said and done, I’ll probably return home safely, musing about the thrilling rides I enjoyed throughout the day. Yet there’s also the tiniest chance that something might go wrong, and it’s a small sliver of macabre hope that mustn’t come true.
Can you imagine rocketing along at a kajillion miles per hour on the Batman ride when you discover, much to your dismay, that you aren’t dreaming about sailing through the atmosphere? Or what if a ride stopped midway and left you helpless as you hung on for dear life? It’s so scary you almost wish it would happen, but that’s just the neurotic voice talking.
Anyway, I wish you a good evening. We’ll talk later.
I remember watching Spike TV a few months ago, gentle reader, and when the clock struck 11 PM two familiar characters stepped onto the screen. These anthropomorphic animals had been a staple of middle school television, but after the first few moments it was apparent they were changed. Ren & Stimpy, arguably the most deviant characters in the old guard of Nickelodeon, had gone through the Edgy Machine, emerging on a different station in a show updated for adults.
It didn’t take long to realize that the show lost something important, something undeniably vital. While I will probably never see another episode, a seed and a thought took root that fateful evening. That thought goes like this: does television cry out for darker, drugs-n’-sex versions of classic cartoons?
I think so. There was a time when Thundercats more than satisfied the hunger for quality programming, but wouldn’t Thunderwhores–with their self-affirming cry of “Thunderwhores, hooooo!”–garner an equally loyal following today? Whatever your views on the moral degradation of television content, I’d like to spitball a potential winner of a cartoon update. I’m thinking three words, and those three words read Transformers: Never Again.
We’re taking the same marketable characters, changing a name or two, and pitting the embattled Drunkobots against their most fiendish enemy to date: chronic alcoholism. I’m telling you, the framework is already there. The new tagline, “Just one more than meets the eye,” would preserve the spirit of the original series while subtly ushering in new thematic elements. And since we shouldn’t confine ourselves to so abstract a villain, we could introduce the Enablers, apocryphal backwoods cousins of the Decepticons hell-bent on slipping a 44 into Optimus Lush’s glove compartment.
Do you see where I’m going? It’s a much loved series that could stand a shot–or three shots too many, as it were–in the cybernetic arm. Rife with product placement opportunities, dignified in its humane portrayal of robots given to the drink, this show would revolutionize the way we do cartoons. Here are a few dialogue snippets from my pilot episode.
“Jack Daniels above! I can transform myself, so why can’t I transform [cue jingle] this water into whiskey?”
“Damn it, did I leave my Minibots at O’Toole’s last night? Ohhhh, my head. Error, error.”
“Let’s play a little word association game, see if it rings any bells. ‘Half-priced margaritas.’ ‘Chili’s.’ ‘Really cute waitress.’ Yeah, you were pretty smashed, Hot Rod.”
“Hey, Opt? I DWI’ed. Again. Spare a ‘bot some bail, would ya?”
The season finale could culminate at the local chapter of AA run by Megatron, wherein Optimus Lush goes apeshit in a CG-animated setpiece unrivaled in its wow factor. I’m getting tingly just thinking about it, but that’s just me. I’m sure you have your own shows in mind, and you’ll let me know if you come up with any doozies, won’t you? If you’re not feeling particularly creative, here are a few ideas to get you started.
My Little Undernourished Pony at the Glue Factory — may need a few clever story arcs to keep the series going.
Nicotine Patch Kids — sometimes cabbage just isn’t enough.
Peter Panhandler: Chronicles of Neverlabor Land — I’m thinking happy thoughts and they all say, “Give me a quarter or you die.”
Stare Bears — you don’t want these creepy woodland creatures near your child.