And now, a brief glimpse into life here at the private, cloistered, concealed-by-mountains-and-mean-scary-dogs Recapping Oxygen Chamber in which I spend my days, as we play another round of MBTV Fantasy Camp, with your celebrity guest recapper, Djb. Pay attention, folks. We're through the looking glass here.
Usually what happens when I turn on my computer in the morning is this: I swig some stale coffee, mutter an even staler comment about hating Mondays that opens me up to a "why, I didn't realize that we had signed on to live with wacky cartoon fat cat Garfield" type of scorn from the bustling roommates with whom I share space, curse Bill Gates, and open up Microsoft Word, saving a new document that will one day become a finished recap -- this one, say, would be called "Episode 28 -- Miss Twin Peaks" in a folder named "Twin Peaks" (follow path "C drive, My MBTV, Gulf War/Death Of Grunge, 35-64 Demo, Twin Peaks"). The blank screen and blinking cursor stare back at me all patronizing, and I have to type something, anything, just to mar the screen with what will soon be my dozens of witty bon mots about early-'90s television programming, many to all of which possessing the fallback punch line " and then he switched over to Major Dad," depending on how groundbreaking I'm feeling on a given day. But the first thing I write is usually intended to break the ice, just to get something up there, not intended to be shared with the rest of the world. Said quote usually takes the form of a reference to the show I'm about to recap, with a "Lo, pity my exhausted self with the stale coffee and the bantering roommates" twist thrown in. Examples that leap to mind include the likes of "Who killed Laura Blah Blah Blah-mer" and "The trees blow moodily again outside of the Great NOT!thern." Today, however, I stared at the blank screen for several minutes and finally, Carrie Bradshaw-style, got around to typing that sentence around which the comic sensibility for this recap was to be based. And the sentence I wrote was this: "I now hate this show." Sad? I know. Clever? Not. But remarkably accurate nonetheless. Not an "Evil lurks inside the Crap Lodge" or a "This show is Julee Cruisin' for a quick cancellation" pun anywhere to be seen. I now hate this show. Two hours from the end, intrepid readers. Thanks for sticking with it.
Slatted, wood-planked darkness looms inside the cabin in the woods. Leo "Damage To The Cerebral Bore-tex" Johnson lies in a stupor, his right wrist secured to a chain affixed to the ceiling. Next to him lies the seemingly unconscious Garland "In The Corner Pocket" Briggs, whose right hand has been handcuffed to Leo's left. Many labored TV moments after the director's fifth infuriated wail of "I SAID ACTION," Leo stirs from his stupor and manages to lean just enough forward to open a nearby drawer and dig out what looks like a key. Breathing hard, he unlatches Briggs's arm clamps, and as Briggs stirs, Leo whispers an impassioned "Save Shelley!" Briggs, in a stupor, is for once unable to slow the action down with a sentiment of his usual "I have dreamed of a Shelley of whom I am the requirement of saving, for such is the map! The map! Government. Blue book. Sale on owls, one day only" nature that one tends to zoom right through in lieu of shots of his underexposed (in, literally, every way available) son, anyway. Briggs stumbles to his feet, woozy-like, and out of the frame (though, oddly enough, not out of the door). Leo, still tied to the ceiling, turns his head toward the wall behind him and focuses on the "Queen" playing card with Shelley's tiny black-and-white face on it. Briggs, apparently, is still in the house. I guess he just wandered into the next room with all of Earle's "Tandy Computers" product placements to regain consciousness in front of another relaxing (and hilarious!) episode of Major Dad. Because, well, see what I did there?