The World Can Breathe Now

Well it’s about time.

I think it’s important to be the champion of your surname in something. You need to strive to have some sort of distinguishable trait in which you far outperform all others that share your last name. Take me for example – I’m prepared to claim that I am the best blogging Condon on the Internet. There’s not much competition, from what I’ve seen, and assuming Academy Award winning screenwriter doesn’t turn his focus from movies to daily ramblings via the Internet, I think I’m safe in this regard. Why should one strive for such an achievement? Easy. So people can distinguish you at cocktail parties in Heaven.

Why do you think Steve the Baptist took up archery? It’s not like John could claim that medal at the next Pearly Gates Ice Cream Social. (Note – you may decide as to whether you believe Steve the Baptist to be a real but unappreciated person in Biblical history, or rather YAB just made him up. That’s your choice. But who do you think taught Cupid to have such deadly aim? How many babies do you know that can hit a wayward lover from 50 yds on the run right out of the womb? Thought so.)

Everyone needs a familial superlative. Even those who are probably going to hell.

Take the Lawrences. Please.

In Hell, Martin Lawrence SHOULD hold the title for “Worst Lawrence in Showbiz.” Period. Hands down. So many stupid movies. Hell, I’ve even bequeathed him with his own theory. His C.V. is long and storied in stupid films. And yet, Martin’s going to have to find his own superlative. He’s, shockingly, not the Worst Lawrence in Showbiz. That title belongs to none other than VICKI Lawrence.

What has Vicki done to outsuck the career of Martin Lawrence? It really doesn’t matter that she had a singing career, or was a featured player on the Carol Burnett Show. It doesn’t matter that she had some stellar appearances on Carson or that she hosted Win, Lose, or Draw. The fact remains in that she was behind the worst television show in the history of television.

Mama’s Family.

I don’t know who at NBC thought that it was a good idea to greenlight a show based on a whiny, cranky old woman and her house of Southern rejects, but I’m sure that they’ll be joining Martin and Vicki in Hell. NBC came to its senses after two seasons in 1985, throwing Mama’s Family off the Schedule Train. But some other minion of Satan at CBS convinced them to churn out 5 more seasons in syndication, thereby putting together a complete collection of 130 episodes. Horrible, horrible episodes.

And even though they strived for funny television programming, TBS insisted on showing Mama’s Family from 6-7am on weekday mornings – precisely the time that American is waking up, getting ready to go to work, and looking for something to watch other than news while they shave. This almost, on many occasions, forced me to start a letter writing campaigns that would have rivaled my “Strangers with Candy” pen-o-rama of 1997. I can’t make it through 35 seconds of this show without dying a little on the inside.

YAB is proud to report that as of September 5, the 6am morning weekday block of TBS programming now consists of The Cosby Show and The Drew Carey Show.

There IS a God. And I’m going to have to remember to buy him a round at my first Heaven cocktail party.