pumpkin romeo

Dark Shadows,

As a child I have faint memories of my mother watching a night time soap staring a vampire named Barnabus Collins.  That, and visions of home-video-level-production-value are all I remember of the original Dark Shadows series that ran on ABC from 1966-1974.  Now Tim Burton’s cheeky remix for the big screen has me re-invested for reasons that I never expected.

I won’t bore you with details. I will THRILL you with them in the form of bullet points:

+MICHELLE PFEIFFER LIKE WHOA

+Funny As Shit

+Suitably Dark

+Strong Wardrobe Choices (The 70’s have never looked so good……..in gothic Maine.)

+Fuck Yeah Alice Cooper

+SOAPY LIKE WHOA (Not like a Telenovella, more like Falcon Crest with blood.)

• FAMILY
• Betrayal
• Sex
• Acting (LOTS of it)
• Business
• Actors betraying LOTS of the family business with sex!

Overall I am impressed. Being worried that I might be served with more of that Disney fare he’s been getting “so good” at, I was skeptic of Tim Burton’s latest.  But he came through.  Not only did I stay awake for its duration, I fell in love with the Gothic Opulence and overall Lydia Dietz Elegance of it all.

SNAP

This evening, in the face of object poverty, struggling to make an ends, and smothered by winter’s chill I nearly shed a tear.  No, not for myself but for 6 intoxicatingly rich Caucasian women living in a village called Beverly Hills.

Yes, I am speaking of the season finale of Bravo’s latest and DARKEST dive into the pits of American frivolity The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.  Those who watch know.  Those who don’t could likely give a shit.  However I say this to you both; emotional solitude does not give a fat baby’s dick about “class.”

I won’t bore you with the details.  But by the conclusion of this haunting opus sisters disowned one another.  A hag lost her fag.  A wife conceded to hiding her palpable torment behind impossibly plump lips.  A chick was straight up quit by her husband of 13-14 years in favor of a flight attendant.  And oh yeah, one of the aforementioned sisters was sent to rehab by her offspring.

Now you will probably say “WHO GIVES A SHIT?”  They’re rich and the need to get over it.  You are right and they should.  But thanks to Bravo’s snappy editing and moody, Ramotional score this meditation on excess deteriorated into a commentary on the need for stability that seems to permeate the human condition.

Long story short, as sad as I felt for the women that most deem unworthy of sympathy, I was reminded of the good fortune that surrounds me on a daily basis.  The weather may be cold and my heat may be broken but I was able to whiteness this side show of sorrow in the company of dear friends via wine, commentary, and spicy spicy sausage.  So for someone who believes that it in fact MAY never get better I am reminded of Ms. Ceelie’s timeless words:  “I’m poor, black, and hell I might even be ugly BUT I’M HERE!”

And yes.  This was all about me.  Brought to YOU by me.

-c2