That's On Point: The Web Site

Today, the thumbs down is for me.

No, it's not what you're thinking. It's not for my general sucking at life for the last oh, four years.

No, it's not for my glaring lack of charity work or failure to adopt a starving African child. Or my lack of church going, neither.

No sir.

I direct a downward digit in my direction for failing to watch the tv show "Arrested Development" when it was originally on television.

If I could, I'd punch myself in the dick.

As, what I'd like to think, a conossieur of all things television how did I screw up so badly on this one. And it's beacause of people like me that a show -- that lives up to the advance hype -- gets the network axe, whilst the Michael Rappaport vechicle, err, umm...what's it called? Oh right "The War at Home" churns along with 22 episodes a season.

"Arrested Development" will probably stand the test of time, since the humor comes at such a broad spectrum. Slapstick, veiled dick jokes, dry stuff, sight gags, mild parody... the full comedic gambit.

It's definitely on par with some of the recent greats like "Curb Your Enthuaism" and "The Office."

Man, it's a shame that if only a few more dopes like me had tuned in on FOX it might have stuck around another year or too. The 50-odd episodes aren't nearly enough time with the Bluthes...and Franklin...or even the Veals for that matter. All I can do at this point is thank Theodore Blake for letting me borrow the first volume on DVDs.

Ratfarts.

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Since this is a blog and this is apparently what a blog is supposed to be about, why not tell you about a super fun time called "Tenacious D" at Madison Square Gordon, err, Garden.

Let's chat about train malfunctions, going backward to go forward and the like. Adding to my list of grievences against Metro North Railroad, I add last Friday. Apparently there were "wire problems" and the only authority was a Fairfield "special police" officer. In other words, no straight answers from anyone.

Not the end of the world, although one agitated female yuppie with a nice trendy Beyonce-inspired hat wondered aloud if, "Someone jumped in front of the tracks." (Gasp, even from me.) ... "What, it happens all the time."

I didn't realize it at the time, but here was a chick nearly as angry as me. At the time all I concluded is that this is why most of the country doesn't like us Connecticut Yankees.

Another reason -- our New Englandy weather is a joke. After eventually arriving at Grand Central, after a would-be 'Strangers on a Train' moment, I trekked down to MSG and worked up enough of a sweat (I was running late, I thought) to doft my hoodie and walked in my t-shirt. Two hours later, freezing cold and wind. Curse you Poor Richards Almanac!

Oh, perhaps the malfunctions on the train platform did me some good, as in maybe it will inspire me to get a haircut, seeing the high school-erish kids en route to the very same Tencious D show as I. Felt like a babysitter. And let me tell you, these kids were such chuckleheads that one of their overheard stories included -- "Ooh man, I picked up a chick on an airplane because I said I was homeless and didn't have a family."

Right. Should I note this kid had a pizza face and terrible dreads.

At this point it must make some sense to add my two (digital) cents at the show itself. Overall grade: B-.

The first part was pretty amazing. The set of "Kyle's Apartment" with the Live Nudes in the back...priceless. Lee...amazing as always. The Saxaboom jam-out, with KG bustin' a move...the highlight of the show. (This isn't a highlight.)

Then...the descent into hell. Which was funny for like two songs. Then...eh...it divolved into bad high school musical theater. I'll leave it at that.

We didn't even get Meatloaf for this show. And maybe that was the problem, I'm assuming most people that went to the show saw "The Pick of Destiny." So there was no need to rehash the major plot points on stage. Particularly with Jack and Kyle subbing for Loaf and Ronnie James on "Kickapoo."

"Storm the Gates"...ugh...."Car Chase City"...not even a guffaw from my standpoint. Waste of time. (Let's not even mention the abysmal showing on "SNL" on Saturday that I stupidly recorded.)

This was offset by the excellent Who medley that closed the show. No Beatles' medley, but pretty rockin' none-the-less. (Granted, on my walk back to Grand Central, which included finding Doner Kebabs, a middle-aged chap explained to his 10-year-old son who the Who were. Fantastic.)

The lack of interplay with the audience and the adherence to a tight set list were also mildy surprising from the D. (Ok, maybe harsh. They did aparently let any dolt with a camera bootleg the show, including some chuckleheads in front of me. Oh, one more thing, can we knock of the camera phones at concerts. Thanks.)

Perhaps I was expecting a repeat of a D show at Roseland a couple years ago. You know, Sass, Spiderman, etc. Alas. Maybe the D have grown up and I haven't.

And judging by the ecclectic crowd buzzing around MSG, that's not neccesarily a good thing.

Wonder if Nuke Laloosh showed up this time.

Labels: Arrested Development, Tenacious D