We watch... so you don't have to.

I Protest! I Do Protest!

I'm sitting here watching "Spin City," a promising new series in the sense that watching it doesn't make my eyes roll back in my skull while my head cleaves open and the foul demons within seep out to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting world... like when I watched five minutes of the horrid "Promised Land" earlier this evening. I can hardly wait for the very special episode of "Promised Land" where Gerald McRaney joins a right wing militia and vows to really teach them long-haired freaky people a thing or two about family values. Major Dad, indeed.

But getting back to "Spin City," I was having a delightful time watching Michael J. Fox all-growed up. The once and future Alex P. Keaton plays the deputy mayor of New York City. He's a regular wisenheimer, always making with the wisecracks and japes. And his live-in girlfriend -- a swarthy, vivacious lass -- is a newspaper reporter who covers... City Hall.

I think you can see the obvious problems this contrivance presents.

Journalists don't have the same rigorous code of ethics you'll find in other professions like, say, lawyerin' or medicine or even clown college. But one rule we do try to live hard and fast by is that you don't date the people you cover. Just ask George Will, who's married to a top Bob Dole aide. You can fuck the elephants, so the saying goes, just as long as you don't cover the circus.

I have no idea what that saying means, but it does give me the chance to use the word "fuck," making me appear more cutting edge and adult.

Naturally, I was quite upset with this crucial element of the "Spin City" plot, being a reporter whose romantic endeavors have been foiled by my unwavering devotion to ethical standards on more than one occasion. That and my abnormally large ass.

You see... and I've never told this to a soul... when I was an editor at the UCSD Guardian, women found me well-nigh irresistible. The halls of the newspaper office were literally strewn with the bodies of young damsels killing one another just to receive a fond glance from yours truly.

But I was married to the newspaper, and the newspaper was a cold, unforgiving bitch of a wife. She demanded my undivided attention and would tolerate no other suitors. So I spurned the company of women. Oh mind you, I made it look like they were spurning me, you know, just to keep up appearances, so that the burden of my lonely, lonely choice would remain mine alone.

And now that I work for a national newspaper which covers business on a global scale, my rigorous code of ethics demand that I forswear all women foreign and domestic -- except for those who live in countries that have no diplomatic relations with the United States -- lest I compromise the sacred public trust all journalists hold dear. So I'm off to Cuba next week for a blind date. Viva Castro!

My point here is that "Spin City" upset my greatly because here's Michael J. Fox frolicking in bed with a swarthy, vivacious lass and here's me sitting on my couch drinking Mug root beer and waiting for "Sheriff Lobo" re-runs on WGN. And I'm just as cute as Michael J. Fox...

Um. Aren't I?


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