Running in Repeats

I heart Kevin Smith.  Truly.  You may only recognize him as the "too fat to fly"-guy, or perhaps you know his movies and think he's repulsive.  But the man can write -- he produces some of the most amazing dialogue in Hollywood and his autobiographies are filled with random stories that are humorous yet meaningful. If you ever get the chance to pick up My Boring-Ass Life, it's worth it to read his chapter about Jason Mewes overcoming his heroin addiction.  Unbelievable story.  Unbelievable writing.

So of course I follow him on Twitter, which is sometimes confusing because, as an artist who is known to be very particular about his words, he does not find it necessary to limit himself to 140 characters.  There are some days when I wonder if he's trying to break his own record of "tweets it takes to get this story out."

But as I've stated, I heart Kevin Smith.  Long tweets and all.  As a writer I envy the way he takes the simple, everyday life and makes me (and millions of others) think, "Oh, yeah... I've felt that way."  And although it took him 11 tweets to tell the story below, it's one of the shorter writings I've loved.  As someone who watches Friends with my daughter almost daily, I've no doubt I'll experience this someday soon.

Tweeted earlier this week, I've simply copied and pasted his words together:

"I LOVE LUCY was a sitcom from the '50s that was running in repeats during my childhood.  There were merely 5 stations when I was a kid, so I was often forced to watch LUCY - a show my parents still found funny.  Of course they did:  they'd watched all the eps during their original airings, from 1951 to 1957.  But at our little house on Jackson Street in Highlands, NJ, the idea of watching a 20 year old sitcom - even if nothing else was on - always felt geriatric to me.  Even my Grandmother would watch LUCY reruns, usually at 10pm on channel 5.  LUCY couldn't be dodged of ducked in my pre-cable youth.  And whenever someone older than me tried to sell me on how awesome LUCY was, I'd cringe, forced to watch situations and characters for which I had no perspective and no sentimental attachment.  The other day, I was watching ROSEANNE with my kid.  After ten minutes, she observed "Nobody has a cell phone."  After that, she asked questions about lower-middle-class life - a subject she's as ignorant of as I am well-schooled.  So there I was, watching a 20 year old sitcom that I still adore with my kid, who had no context for the world or era that produced the best television series of the 90s.  After she politely watched the episode with me (or rather, for me) Harley thanked me for sharing my program, then excused herself to watch GLEE.  And 20 years from now, as she tries to desperately explain to an incredulous-but-patient child of her own just how timeless and relevant HER childhood television treasure is, a circle will be complete."

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