What? You’re kidding!

With Monday’s discussion about TV medical dramas (Grey’s Anatomy, ER, House), this essay from Slate by Ingrid Katz and Alexi Wright seemed particularly interesting. Get this – doctors don’t like these shows!

“We have a professional beef with Grey’s Anatomy: Along with House, the other hospital show on the air at the moment, it is medically far-fetched and misleading. Most of all, we dislike the show because it loses sight of the point of any medical enterprise—the patients.”

See, I’m not sure I agree with that. You build a show, with a regular cast, and those guys need to stick around. Patients go in and out of the hospitals. Doctors and nurses stay there. That’s why these shows feature the staffers.

Besides, we’re the patients. We already know what it’s like to go to a hospital, right? What would you rather see dramatized, what you don’t normally see or what you’re familiar with? Sure, some people want to see their experiences echoed on-screen. I get that.

But you can always bring in a special guest star to play a patient when a ratings boost is needed! Like Ray Liotta! And Sally Field! Bob Newhart! Alan Alda! Hey, what about LL Cool J? And there was, uh… Colin Farrell! Wait, he was on Scrubs. That’s not a medical drama. And he didn’t play a patient. He played a guy who beat up a patient. But that doesn’t matter. You get what I’m saying.

You know, I always thought Gilbert Gottfried would be a great guest-star on ER. I would’ve had him play a guy who gets brought into the E.R. because he got something stuck up his ass. Like a gerbil. C’mon, you’d tune in for the whole hour, wouldn’t you? Especially if that surly Dr. Benton had to surgically remove the gerbil. Man, that would’ve been “Must See TV.” I need an agent.

I’m digressing, aren’t I?

Anyway, the point of the article was that doctors don’t do what these TV shows say they do. Such as hump like jackrabbits, as they do on Grey’s Anatomy. I think Katz and Wright’s description of that particular facet of the show was probably a bit more tactful than mine.

“Many moments would make the old-time AMA vetters cringe. Instead of asexual father figures, the doctors on cast are hyper-hormonal. Attendings sleep with residents. Interns bed nurses. Even patients are fair game. On one episode, Grey kisses an injured biker brought in to the hospital after an accident involving spokes sticking out of his abdomen. Normally, any of these infractions would be grounds for dismissal. At Grey’s hospital, they’re all in a day’s work.”

Hey, you say po-TAY-to, I say pa-TAH-to. It’s all about their hoo-hahs in their yum-yums. Whatever. Say it however you want; those doctors are plowing each other like Iowa cornfields, man.

Grand Theft Auto: Ann Arbor

It’s always nice to hang out with an old friend. My buddy Pete is in town this week, visiting from Texas, and last night, we tried to hit a few of the places he’s missed while living in Austin the past four years. While walking off the beers we slugged down at Ashley’s (where Pete out-drank me – but hey, he was complaining about the “cold” weather), we had a baffling encounter with possibly the most insecure, arrogant, or just plain idiotic ass either of us have ever met.

Pete had been taking a bunch of photos of his favorite spots in Ann Arbor during his visit, and wanted to get a shot of the State Theater marquee at night. (This isn’t Pete’s photo; I’m just providing some visual reference.) As Pete is standing on the side of State St., trying to get the marquee in frame, some jackass about 50 feet away yells at him.

“HEY! What are you doing?”

The two of us turn and give the looks you think we’d make. Mind your own business, dildo.

“Hey! Are you taking a picture of my car?”

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking a pic– what do you care?” Pete laughed and turned back toward the marquee.

“You’re standing right in front of my car! You taking a picture of it? What are you doing?”

The car in question was a dingy white Ford Escort, okay? Pete wasn’t standing in front of a BMW or Jaguar.

“He’s never seen a New Jersey license plate before,” I say.

“What?”

“He’s taking a picture of the theater, man!”

The dildo stands with his hands on his hips and stares at us. His friend seems to be telling him to relax, patting him on the shoulder. Pete and I look back at him, with our hands raised, wondering what the hell is wrong with this guy. And laughing that he thinks we might want to steal his dirty white Ford Escort. After 30 seconds of awkward, ridiculous, falsely macho staring at each other (I’ve always wanted to yell “Make your move!” in a situation like that, because it seems so stupid), the dildo waves his hand at us and says, “Whatever.”

And that’s how it ended. We turned the corner to Liberty, where Pete could take a picture of the Michigan Theater marquee. I looked back a few times to see if Dildo & Robin would follow us, but they didn’t. A sweet young Asian girl saw Pete aiming his camera and asked us if she wanted her to take a picture of us together. No, thanks. Pete and I were planning to take our own photos after drinking more at Leopold Bros.

Okay, that last part was a joke. Speaking of jokes, I have to thank Pete for bringing me a copy of some Patton Oswalt. If you haven’t listened to Feelin’ Kinda Patton yet, do it NOW.

You kiss your mom with that mouth?

Okay, maybe I got a little carried away with dropping the f-bombs yesterday. It got away from me. I think it was like going to the bathroom; you can’t just let a bit out, and then stop. If it’s in there and needs to get out, you have to let nature take its course.

Human nature – what a great defense! According to this New York Times article by Natalie Angier, swearing is simply in our nature. We have always been a cursing people, regardless of language, ethnicity, upbringing, or dialect. Writings throughout the centuries – the Bible, the works of Shakespeare – have been littered with “naughty” language.

Cursing may also allow scientists to study how the different regions of the brain – the “higher,” more intelligent vs. the “lower,” more bestial – communicate. How do our senses and reflexes react to hearing or seeing a swear word? You know, when I said I intended this blog to be a reflection of my thoughts, I’m not sure I meant that literally.

Here are some other tidbits from the article, most of which you probably knew, but they sound so much better when confirmed by a science writer from the New York Times:

♦ Swearing helps relieve stress, anger, and anxiety.

♦ Men generally curse more than women (unless those women belong to a sorority).

♦ The word “golly” was once considered a profanity.

Doctors #$@%ing!

All day with no Detroit Lions makes a Sunday evening quite pleasant. And I certainly spent it productively. Since I didn’t spend most of the day watching football (except keeping up on games involving players on my fantasy team – I knew that would happen), my body apparently suffered from TV withdrawal later in the evening, thus forcing me to sit down and absorb hours of the stuff.

Did NBC tell us it was moving The West Wing to Sunday nights? I missed that memo. I don’t think I’ve ever walked away from a TV show for a few years, and then come back to it. (Once you’re cut off, you’re done!) Have you ever done it?

But I’m fascinated with how this show is preparing to revamp itself, as it follows a new presidential campaign between Jimmy Smits and Alan Alda. I know dramas like ER and Law & Order have changed casts over the years, but to me, they’re still the same show. To me, it feels like The West Wing is making itself new all over again.

The show I was really looking forward to, however, was Grey’s Anatomy, or as I like to call it, Doctors Fucking. Oh, sure – you’re like my sister. You watch it because it’s a medical drama; you want to see how the doctors will cure that patient who’s having seizures for no apparent reason. Right. (You should be watching this show instead, if that’s really the case.)

C’mon, you watch because everyone is fucking everybody on that show. The title character, Meredith Grey, is fucking this guy, Dr. McDreamy. Her friend is fucking this guy. Well, as of last night’s episode, it looks like they won’t be fucking anymore. Yet this guy wants to fuck Grey, but she’s fucking Dr. McDreamy, so he went off and fucked somebody else. But make no mistake, he still wants to fuck her. Meanwhile, it looks like this doctor and this doctor will eventually fuck, but see, they hate each other right now (or at least pretend to). It’s the stuff TV romance is made of. So it’ll probably be a few episodes before they do what everyone else on the show is doing.

Oh, and I almost forgot – an Entertainment Weekly feature on the show seemed to imply that Grey’s mentor and mother may have fucked at some point in their lives, too. (“It’ll be very provocative,” said James Pickens, Jr. who plays the mentor.)

Hey, I’m just trying to provide a service to you. Television Without Pity isn’t writing about Grey’s Anatomy, so I’m giving you all you need to know about the show right here. Doctors are fucking, man. This isn’t ER, where only Dr. Carter is fucking everyone. And that’s why people are watching.

… Or is it just me?

It’s raining, I’m bored…

And I’ve been drinking. So against my better judgment, I’ve decided to create something sure to suffer from neglect and/or fail. I’ve posted my thoughts on last night’s Michigan football disappointment over at an all-sports blog titled… Sweaty Men Endeavors.

C’mon, that’s a great name for a sports blog, and you know it. (“With a little touch of gay,” as Mis Hooz said. And maybe that’s a bit disturbing…)

Anyway, it’s there. I hope you’re inclined to check it out. I might – might – be able to update it three or four times a week. We’ll see.

(Image from “Get Fuzzy” ©2005 Darby Conley/ Dist. by UFS, Inc.)

Saturday scramble

♦ One of the more troubling articles I’ve read recently was last week’s New Republic cover story, “After Shock,” by Douglas McCray. (You need a subscription to read the article, so type in username john9241 and password trooper – Thanks, BugMeNot!) It details how San Francisco will become the next New Orleans if it doesn’t take steps to prepare for the next big earthquake. And if the article is to be believed, San Francisco has a long way to go with disaster planning.

♦ So I watched a tape of Everybody Hates Chris, the sitcom of Chris Rock’s childhood, which looks like the critical darling of the new fall TV season. It’s definitely funny; Chris’s dad could easily become one of my favorite TV characters, with his penny-pinching math. (“That’s 49 cents of spilled milk dripping off this table! Somebody’s gonna drink this milk!”)

But I think its critical popularity speaks to how most current sitcoms are deprived of originality, creativity, and humor. It’s a good show, but I’m not sure it’s that good a show. But hey, it’s either this or Joey (which Everybody Hates Chris beat in the ratings, by the way. UPN beats NBC – there’s a headline for you.)

♦ Thanks to Mis Hooz for introducing me (musically, not personally) to the Bloc Party. I’m quite out of it when it comes to music these days, so getting a copy of “Silent Alarm” in the mail was refreshment for my ears. My first impulse when recommending a band is to compare them to a more familiar sound, but that can get reductive – especially when nothing I come up with does these guys justice. So if you’re intrigued despite my complete inability to describe Bloc Party’s sound, the band’s official web site has a few MP3s to sample.

♦ Another somewhat troubling set of articles ran in the Washington Post this week. Sam already touched on this at Blue Cats and Red Sox, but if you’re not familiar with this, here’s the story: The Sunday edition of the Post ran a feature on Baseball Chapel, and the increasing role that prayer, Bible studies, and worship services is taking in locker rooms all around the major leagues. This article focused primarily on the Washington Nationals. Interesting stuff. And then, there’s this passage:

The players not only pray, but they also discuss personal matters — marital tension, addiction issues, family illnesses, financial stress — drawing sometimes surprising lessons. Church was concerned because his former girlfriend was Jewish. He turned to Moeller, “I said, like, Jewish people, they don’t believe in Jesus. Does that mean they’re doomed? Jon nodded, like, that’s what it meant. My ex-girlfriend! I was like, man, if they only knew. Other religions don’t know any better. It’s up to us to spread the word.”

Well, as you might imagine, implying that Jews are destined to eternal damnation caused a bit of a stink. I think Ryan Church, the player quoted in the Post article, is guilty of ignorance, more than anything else. It’s difficult for me to criticize him for that, especially when he appears interested in educating himself. But how about the chaplain who reportedly nodded in affirmation? Can we call that irresponsible, to say the least?

Two days later, in response to complaints and protests from Jews and Christians alike, the Nationals suspended the team chaplain (Jon Moeller) and issued an apology from Church.

Still curious

I realize this is pretty damn self-serving (and comparatively trivial), given what the people along the Texas gulf coast are about to experience with Hurricane Rita, but did anyone else jet to the gas station last night or this morning before the price shoots up to $5.00 a gallon? Or was I letting Mr. Newsman scare me?

Judging from the crowds at the gas station this morning, I wasn’t the only trying to beat a huge jump at the pump. (Oh, holy $#!+, did I just type that?) And it wasn’t just the gas either. Keeping a man from getting his morning coffee (even if it’s gas station coffee) is just damn cruel and annoying.

Mr. Casselberry, tell us what you like about TV

One of the things I was really excited about in September was the new football season. So far, I have to say, it’s been a bit of a letdown. Between my favorite teams being largely disappointing and the absence of my #1 football-watching buddy, football season has been bittersweet for me.

But something else has come along to bring me joy in September. I’ve also been eagerly (and somewhat obnoxiously – last night, anyway) anticipating the new season of Nip/Tuck on F/X, and thankfully, last night’s premiere was not a letdown. (Okay, the writer in me says it was probably a little slow in places. But he’s rather finicky.) If you’re a regular viewer, you found out what happened after the Season 2 cliffhanger (and, like me, had to sit down on something soft after the revelation.) And if you were a newcomer, like the visiting Lil’ Sis, you realized this show is so much more than it appears to be on the surface.

“Oh my God, what the hell are we watching?” said the naive young lady who thought we’d just be watching some superficial show about Miami plastic surgeons. No, Lil’ Sis, give your big brother a little credit. Nip/Tuck is so much smarter, darker, and more twisted than that. How about a storyline about a humongously obese woman who’s spent so much time on her couch that she now literally has to be peeled off from it? Or a serial slasher – “The Carver” – who’s been slicing the faces of all the beautiful people in Miami Beach? Now you’re talking. That is great television.

“Holy $#!+, did you see Nip/Tuck last night?!” could become a weekly feature here at Fried Rice Thoughts – just to warn you. (I probably should’ve warned you about the football Mondays. Sorry about that.) Man, I slept so well last night. I love TV.

Just curious

Did everyone get through Day 1 of having to pay for the online version of the New York Times Op-Ed section okay? I made it through the day just fine, but if I really wanted to Chinese water torture myself, I suppose I could spend what remains of tonight telling myself that I couldn’t have read Paul Krugman today if I’d wanted to. (Um, unless I bought a print copy of the NYT or shelled out for TimesSelect.)

Yet Krugman’s column is still the fifth most e-mailed NYT article today, as of 10:45 p.m. Interesting. To me, at least. And maybe Mis Hooz.

Here’s a funny take on this from Gawker.

Carry on.

Sunday night sucker

Earlier today, the Detroit Lions vomited all over the field in losing to the Chicago Bears, 38-6. (Two words for the Lions: block someone.) I could only stand to watch the first half of the game. There was no sense in enduring the rest of it; every Lions fan knew how it was going to turn out. Miraculous comebacks don’t happen in this hellish world we’ve chosen for ourselves. So I went grocery shopping and then loitered in a bookstore.

While listening to soft pop music and trying to decide whether or not I wanted balsamic vinaigrette dressing again, something occurred to me: Lions fans are trapped in some bizarro football version of the movie Groundhog Day.

You know the story: Bill Murray is forced to live a day – a day he hates – over and over and over again. And that’s what today’s game was, if you watch the Lions with any regularity. They do this to us every season, sometimes two or three times. The Lions win, their fans get excited, and then they perpetrate an absolute mass of stinky, steaming shit upon those who love them. Even worse, it’s against a team that they arguably could’ve or should’ve beaten.

Lions fans have watched that game again and again and again. Surely others have already made this comparison. I’m sure this isn’t an original thought. But it’s the first time, in all the putrid Lions debacles I’ve witnessed in my years of watching football, it occurred to me. Bill Murray got Andie McDowell at the end of the movie. Is there anything remotely appealing awaiting Lions fans at the end of this agonizingly repetitive day?

Stray football thoughts from the weekend:

♦ Is Michigan State actually the best college team in Michigan right now? (And is Drew Stanton the state’s best quarterback?) Against Notre Dame, MSU was everything Michigan hadn’t been the week before – namely, aggressive. And when the Spartans let up on the gas, Notre Dame came back to tie the game. It was eerily reminiscent of MSU’s collapse last season against Michigan, but this time, the Spartans caught themselves.

♦ Have you ever watched a truck run over a quail egg? I haven’t either, but after watching Michigan deconstruct Eastern Michigan 55-0 yesterday, I have some idea of what it might look like. Seriously, what did that game accomplish? If you’re EMU, you got a $415,000 paycheck. Not bad. If you’re Michigan, you proved you can beat EMU in football really, really badly. Shit, I could’ve told you that’d happen. How about this: do you think you can beat MSU on Oct. 1?

♦ I think I’m in love… with fantasy football. Thank you, Donovan McNabb.

(AP Photo/ Jeff Roberson)