Right now, the "web…blah…log" is not being updated regularly, but feel free to peruse the archive, and check out our carefully selected highlights from Season One, Season Two, and Season Three.

Monday, November 15, 2010


So here we are.
I sit here immobile, ever spreading, in front of a box of long-awaited nirvana. I am thoroughly stuffed, but I continue to cram ‘em down, one after the other, as life goes on outside my window. I am bleary-eyed and silent. It’s all so rich and delicious that my heart is about to explode.
I speak of course about the complete series of The Larry Sanders Show, finally out on DVD. Yes, we’d purchased the first season when it was released ages ago, as well as the “Not Just The Best Of” discs that came out a few years after that, and I’d even caught a few in a brief window on Hulu this past spring. But it wasn’t enough. They were appetizers, tiny snacks on the banquet table, mixed nuts with hardly any cashews or pecans. There was no possible way to be totally satiated until we had every single episode in front of us, densely packed, on a platter.
And now, with my wish finally granted, I’m firmly planted at the trough. Shoveling it in like there’s no tomorrow.
My mind is too full. So many hours feeding on those soft, grainy visuals and razor-sharp words... drinking in sweet delightful laughs cut by acid tart tongues... it’s all too much and still not enough. I am dizzy. A lost weekend, to be sure, and plenty of lost weekdays in there as well. 
Of course, there’s always something bittersweet about diving into such a repast. In my case, it’s that my sheer joy of indulgence becomes ever-so unsettled by the realities of my chosen profession. I can’t just enjoy the meal - I have to think about what made it so delightful, what went into it, and how it’s so hard to replicate at home. 
And I begin to wish that I was that sort of gourmet. Or that I could find myself in a wild and brave kitchen like that. 
Would that I could ever be as brilliantly nourishing as Rip Torn, or Jeffrey Tambor, or Garry Shandling. Would that I could ever be just... so... goooood
And I stay up late night after night, chewing and chewing, knowing that eventually my plate will be clean. I will be left to bloat and clean up the crumbs and wonder if anything will ever be as delicious again.
Maybe I’ll reheat some Newsradio next week.
Yes indeed. Welcome to me.

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