From the Archives - Game Show Addict

As both long term readers of this column know, I am genetically predisposed to addiction. Certainly I cannot be blamed for the Capri Menthol Ultra Light years. I only deserve credit for having overcome my programming by having quit. Few people can rewrite their DNA and give up the nicotine. I can, and have several times.

As the person who proof reads this column knows, I am perhaps a little obsessive compulsive in that I find new passions, suck them dry and then move on without an explanation. That would explain decoupage, several poorly chosen boyfriends and all the lost mornings spent playing cribbage on Pogo.com.

    

Clearly I lead a very rich life full of rewarding pursuits.

But all these phases, all these pastimes, are meaningless now. I have found my true calling, my home if you will. Gone are the homemade greeting cards I used to think about making, the searching for ladies head vases on EBay and the hours spent trying to find the cheapest gasoline in town. I have found a true love and this time I know it is forever.

The Game Show Network is my new favorite thing. It is fun and educational. Not only do you learn things in a high energy, lights and buzzers environment, you also get to feel superior while yelling at the television. It is my belief that those people in danger of choosing the wrong answer can hear me and that I might be able to help them get the bigger prize, perhaps the Amana Radar Range or the fur coat from Dicker and Dicker of Beverly Hills.

You see, as the friends I force to read this column at Watermarkonline.com or at GregTriggs.com can tell you, television has always been my role model. GSN as we true fans call it, is a chance to see the celebrities that shaped my sense of self lo all those years ago back home in front of the color TV in the Mediterranean Carved Walnut Cabinet in my parent’s living room.

If I could rewrite the history of my life and change the rules of biology I think I would be the love child of Charles Nelson Reilly and Paul Lynde. They would be my dad and dad and we would live in a fabulous ranch style house full of mod furniture from the Spiegel Catalogue.

I used to think that the Nelson Rielly Lyndes were the Gaymos and Andy of a bygone era, but in hindsight I could not have been more wrong. They gave hope to all of us kids out there who would rather go see a play then play in the little league. They reminded us that people could think you were fabulous and fun and play the game you chose to play.

And so I am thankful to channel 117 on Manhattan Cable for the chance to visit with these old friends. I don’t know how long this obsession will last. Perhaps the next new thing is just around the corner. But until then I am enjoying the ride. We already have our tickets to Brett Somers Cabaret Show next month and I can’t wait.

Perhaps there will even be some lovely parting gifts!