Try Not To Wreck The Place While I’m Gone
Anyway you cut it, that’s a big chunk o’ text squeezed out over the past couple of days. Well, it is for me. You’ll forgive me if today’s entry is a little more succinct.
Who’da thought that 90s cult programming would have provoked the largest post so far on the Journal? Well, we are all about the Nerd round here. The original plan was to write an entry on every single episode, like the excellent Star Trek annotations over on Siskoid’s blog, but dear God I don’t have the patience.
Speaking of 90s television, there was so much good genre stuff on the box around that time. That’s not to say there wasn’t some shite (VR5, anyone?), but there was an awful lot of good stuff too.
There were two in particular that were obviously commissioned due to the success of the X-Files. I remember American Gothic being superb, with a great performance from Gary Cole as the demonic sheriff Lucas Buck. I’ve got the DVD of that around here somewhere, and like the former show it’s probably about due a reconsideration. Dark Skies was another one, a show that weaved a secret alien invasion into the history of the 20th Century, and like American Gothic was cancelled after only a single series.
I’m not around next week as I’m off to the wilderness of North Wales. Expect some more Celt-centric posting after I get back. Actually, I’ve been meaning to write for a while about the divide between the two parts of the country, and how as a people we tend to perpetuate it when we really shouldn’t, and this trip is as good an excuse as any. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to dissolve into a Civil War or anything (I’m With Aneurin Bevan), but there’s certainly a kind of cultural separation that the Welsh need to address if we’re really going to take devolution forward.
That’s not to say that there won’t be Content here next week, oh no. There’s something a bit different lined up thanks to the magic of Wordpress Post Timestamping, although if it all goes arse over tit I’m not going to know about it till I get back. It’s that kind of adrenaline-fueled risk taking that makes a man feel alive.
