The Loaded Goat
Watchin’ New England Cable News this morning and the greatest thing happened: they ran a whole ad in which a woman in voice-over goes nattering on about her expanding waistline while the images show a Toyota dealership and all these zippy testosterone-fueled cars dashing along the road like so many sperm in search of the egg party.It reminded me of my favorite TV experience when the viewing guide started reporting from the Planet Strange-O). At 8pm for example the Guide said I could look forward both to a show called N-n-n-never (and d-d-don’t ask again!) one called HopeSic (like homesick?) and a third called Moips Corner: Suicidal Women (Hide the razor blades! Little House it isn’t!)Also, many of the shows had thcuss-word symbols in their titles. There was one called Wiiiiiiiist%±*! (like an arrow flying?), one called Aaiiiiiiiii@#! (like an arrow landing?) and one called Timon and Pumbaaaaaa!!!! (in which Pumba falls from a cliff?)Then, when I tuned INTO these shows, exactly none of them matched their descriptions. A football game was labeled Tun Tun Tun, The Daily Gicky Show had some guy de-veining shrimp, and an infomercial on curing excess gassiness was called Larry Kiaaawiiii*!@!, (Kiaaawiiii!*!@! being what? the sounds poor Larry makes in his distress? The protests of those seated next to him? ) It went on:A program called Fanatic turned out to be the local news and Newhart was an international soccer game. The Loaded Goat had a pleasant middle-aged lady displaying dangly ear rings, and Intimate Fantasies featured a little four-year-old playing with a bride doll.It was entertainment so rich I’d have been willing to pay for it - if I wasn’t already paying for it. I was almost disappointed when I tuned in the next day to see the shows all properly labeled. Still, I shan’t soon forget my two favorites: (1) The famous news anchor gravely mooing on about the Crisis in Washington while its explanatory text read: “Telly Monster Fears That Big Bird Will Sit on Him;” and (2) a program showing three mud-covered men using crowbars to pull down a ceiling. Mrs. Slocum Mrs. Slocum Mrs. Slocum, the Guide said this one was called. (When will you learn, Mrs. Slocum? You know we always find your husbands’ bodies!)
