Call my computer “Frank,” short for Frankenstein. (Actually, its name used to be “Drella” and now it’s “Venus in Furs.” Warhol fans will follow that line of thinking without trouble.) The Macintosh has created a monster in me because of the accessibility it provides to major TV network and cable websites that I have been almost obsessive about visiting regularly.
Having made a conscious effort to shift away from old movies on TV last week, I naturally started poking around the local access websites of Austin Community Access Center (ACAC), http://www.eden.com/~actv, and the Austin Music Network (AM15), http://www.ci.austin.tx.us/music/. Not having much of anything to compare these sites to, I choose MTV, http://mtv.com, for some side-by-side comparison of information (or lack thereof).
Obviously, I’m being facetious about some aspects of these sites. But as Net access through television becomes more and more a reality, it is incumbent upon the companies to ensure that their schedule and information is as up-to-date and graphically pleasing as possible. This, after all, is where the future of television scheduling lives.
Next week, reader dear, I will be on vacation, but “Eye” will be here penned by my couch potato buddy, Weezer. I will, however, will be at the mercy of that most elusive pleasure: Daytime television.
Ahhh, daytime television! It’s a world of its own, stereotyped for “women’s” programming the way weekend daytime programs burst with sports. Thank goodness for the premium movie channels. On cable, it’s movies and shows on home improvement, cooking, and gardening. On network, it’s game shows, soap operas, re-runs, and talk shows, talk shows, talk shows.
What in heaven’s name do all these people have to talk about? I have made a policy of avoiding talk shows – the estrogen weep-fests during the day and the testosterone sweepstakes at night alike. Okay, I confess – I appeared on Oprah! with Marion Winik last year but I wasn’t even a “real” guest. I was an audience “plant,” a person groomed for Oprah to turn her mike to for spontaneous repartee.
Unfortunately, when the time came, Oprah – who was already in a bad mood because she was getting over a cold – turned to me saying, “Lady in black, you have a comment?”
“No.” I replied. I didn’t. I had wanted to comment about five minutes before. But that split second I said no – on camera – Oprah looked as though she was about to levitate and her eyes began to glow an unearthly red. (You should have seen the earlier hot tea incident, where Marion accidently drank from Oprah’s mug.)
Immediately I regained my composure and tossed off some glib remark that made the audience both laugh and clap. Laughter and applause. Those are Oprah tranquilizers. It was okay. Her feathers smoothed, Oprah fixated on another “guest plant” much more eager to talk than I.
Oprah Winfrey is still the queen. She gives talk shows class and quality, and should be commended for her efforts to retain those standards, no matter how cheesy the competition gets.
This article appears in June 27 • 1997 and June 27 • 1997 (Cover).