My new FAVORITE show is The Sarah Silverman Program on Comedy Central. It is the most politically incorrect show I've ever seen. THANK GOD. It's stealth in its offensiveness however. Racism, homophobia, antisemitism. etc., all point to the viewer. Are we laughing with the show, at the show, society, ourselves, farts? It's very grey and very blurred. Our protagonist, Sarah, is above all else, self-centered. The show is gaspingly funny and extremely realistic. I love it.
In a recent episode, the bearish gay couple get into a passive-aggressive war over TAB, the diet soda. Instead of just letting go, they spiral into a TAB vortex of their own making. It's outrageous and very relatable. They are the most realistic gay couple I've ever seen on television...and I watch a LOT of C-SPAN.
The image of the two guys trying to out-TAB each other reminded me of a first season episode of one of my favorite TV shows growing up: The Facts of Life. To say I wanted to be Blair Warner would be an understatement. I was her... Snotty, snobbish, superior and condescending. The problem was, no one in my 5th grade class knew it. Not Ms. Pelletreau, not my best friend Roland Dong, no one. I had to come out. They had to know the tallest boy in class whose mom worked as a teacher's aide in room 6, was a Warner.
Blair was rich. I, however, was not. Blair had been to Paris many times. I had been camping many times. Blair went to a private boarding school in upstate New York. I attended Dover Elementary in San Pablo (a tiny town in the San Francisco East Bay Area). Somehow I had to make them UNDERSTAND I was different. It had to be soon and it had to be tasteful, subtle...Blair-like.
One evening I was watching my beloved Facts of Life, desperately waiting for Blair's scene. She usually made a big entrance. Coiffed, decked out in burgundy corduroy knickers, she burst in on the others. Numerous shopping bags in tow, she dropped them and in one line, stole the show. I had my line for school the next day.
I woke up very early from the excitement (to this day I wake up early when excited or worried about something). I could barely eat my usual breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast with a glass of whole milk. I pushed said eggs around nervously sitting at my mom's oval, brown tinted glass coffee table. I'd sit with my legs crossed watching The Today Show on channel 4 until my mom proclaimed it was time to go. It was time. Throw the dishes in the sink ("We'll deal with those later!") and into the red Ford Fury with white vinyl top. We'd drop my sister off at East Bay Christian High School then double back to Dover. I felt like a million bucks!
All morning in class I couldn't decide when to say my witty, stolen line from the night before. Obviously I had to ENTER then say it. I also had to be exhausted for it to make sense. After lunch recess would be perfect. All I had to do is NOT blow it and use the line too early out of nervousness. I had to be patient. I wiggled in my chair like I had to go pee. This went on for 4 hours.
Finally, after lunch recess, the bell rang. The whistles blew, the balls were collected, the jump ropes wound up around forearms and elbows. The kids began to run to their respective classes. I held back. I walked very slowly and very smugly to Room 11. I had to convey an aire of aristocracy, world-weariness, and true exhaustion. I stumbled into class, late. My heart was racing as I staggered to my desk, collapsing into the chair with it's cubby-holed, wrap-around desk. All eyes were on me. I took in a DEEP breath and announced, "I’d give my VISA Card for a TAB!"
After a long, awkward silence, Ms. Pelletreau told the class to open our social studies books to chapter 23. Not a word was said in response to what I had said. By anyone. At all. Clearly the 10 and 11 year old students had no idea what a charge card was... but TAB!? Everyone knew that at least... Sure it was pink, sure it was "diet"... but it was a funny line. It should have killed! It had made me laugh all night with hope and envy and admiration. Clearly, they did not get it. Clearly they did not get me. Clearly, my fifth grade class was a pack of philistines…
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