Even though Television has come a long way toward accurately; depicting the average family in their situation comedies; they still have a long way to go in order to get it right. Perhaps the writers and producers fantasize quite a bit, while portraying the home of Mr. & Mrs. A. V. ERAGE; as being Ideal: Nothing could be further from the truth
How many times has Father come home from work, dressed in an immaculate suit: Removed his hat and coat; carefully placing them in the hall closet: Then he Fingered the mail on a convenient table in the spotless living room, while putting on a sweater and retrieving his pipe and slippers?
“Why was there always ‘The Sweater’?” “Was the furnace on the blink again?” “If this be the case: No Sponsor would allow it to be ‘televised.”
“Honey, I’m home,” he says, as he sits in an overstuffed chair and unfolds the evening paper. “In the kitchen, dear,” Calls Mother; clad in the latest fashionable house dress complete with spike heels; with every hair in place, and a short, lacy apron adorning her perfect body. “How was your day, dear?” She asks as she hands him a frosty drink and bends to kiss his cheek.
Three perfectly mannered children descend the spiral staircase. They stand at attention before his chair; and in unison; remark. “We missed you, Father.” NOTE: It is always Father, and never “Dad” nor “Pop.”
He tousles their hair and leans back to read the stock market report as the beautiful Mother and the children, retreat to the dining room to prepare the perfect dinner by candlelight.
Get real, people! No one lives this way. Except for, ‘Maybe’; “Wonderland.” Dj.
While back in true life; Dad enters the door, dressed in coveralls with “Joe’s Garage” emblazoned on the back: He throws his CAT-DIESEL CAP in the direction of the coffee table, that was strewn with True Confession Magazines: Two overflowing, “Daytona- Beach- Raceway,” ash trays; a couple of Pizza cartons; several empty, Cigarette packages: Four Beer bottles; and various ‘UN-mentionable,’ undergarments of both male & female gender.
He pulls the top of the coveralls from his shoulders and leaves them hanging down his back; kicks the papers and schoolbooks from the couch and slouches at one end while reaching for the remote control and tuning the Television to the Wrestling channel. “Bring me a beer, Marge,” he says, “And tell them youngun’s to get their butts in here and clean up this Hog Pen.”
Marge emerges from the curtained doorway that leads to the kitchen, wearing a faded chenille bathrobe; her hair in curlers, and her toes protruding through holes in the bunny shaped slippers. “You know where the damned Refrigerator is.” “Get your own Beer.” “I’ve had to fight these slobs all morning to keep THEM from fighting.”
Three filthy, children came in the door bouncing a basketball against the wall and, (all trying to talk at the same time.) said:
“PA, the septic tank is overflowing again.” “I need thirty-five dollars for the “WHO CARES” tattoo, on my chest.” “POP: Juney’s pregnant. Do I have to marry her?” “Daddy;?” “Why can’t I go to school, Bra-less? All the girls are doing it.” “Dad;?” “Can Joe really straighten the dent in the car and match the paint?”
As I stated earlier; Television has improved over the years; however, if its ‘realism’ that they are looking for; they should hire me as a consultant. There is nothing like having a person who has experienced, “first-hand”, the factual aspects of the average household; “You Know:” “Someone who has, “Been there” and “Done that.”
“Attention all Networks. If you are looking for someone who has had experience with an “Ideal Family;” Call me (day or night) at #-BY-457; “But just remember:” “I DON’T WORK CHEAP!”