Our protagonist had been suspicious of her sister's new boyfriend. Perhaps it was because of his penchant for pink, lacy panties.
It was when he turned up wearing a burka at her Halloween party that all hell broke loose.
Two TV Reviews: "Private Practice" is ABC's answer to Marcus Welby of yore.
And darn if "Dirty, Sexy Money" doesn't catch this Blogger's interest.
Donald Sutherland leads a clan of rich kids. Right now he's trying to figure out which kid isn't his, thanks to his cheating wife.
Pic of the Day
Review: ABC’s “Dirty, Sexy Money”
ABC’s web site for “Dirty, Sexy Money”
The Darling family is so wealthy that it is nothing for them to finance a quick trip to Italy to pick up a cherished bottle of wine.
Which trip did happen on the episode of this show I watched on the night of Wednesday, 10/17/07. Along with a couple of the Darling children, were Nick George, the Darling clan’s attorney, and his wife, Lisa. Nick inherited the job of Darling family lawyer from his now-deceased father.
In fact, much of the plot in this particular episode involved Nick’s attempt to find out how his father died. Evidently the elder attorney George was killed under mysterious circumstances. While in Italy, Nick met with some strange characters under weird scenarios that gave some answers but also brought more questions.
It would seem that the saga of Nick George and his association with the Darling clan is going to be the focus of this series with a background of intrigue as regards Nick’s father and his relationship with the Darlings. Add to this the many sub-plots involving the Darling children and one must supposed viewers will never be bored.
Another little ongoing drama the night of my viewing involved Tripp Darling, the patriarch of the brood, and his discovery that his wife had been cheating on him for many years. Perhaps even with Nick George’s own father but that wasn’t clear to me from watching just this episode.
Tripp Darling demanded that his wife tell him if any of their supposed children were not, in fact, his. His wife stated emphatically that all of their children were fathered by him but Tripp commissioned his wife’s doctor to study the matter and get back to him.
I find it a bit difficult to believe that a woman could carry on an affair for yea many years and her husband would be so unaware that at some point she could carry her lover’s child and declare it to belong to the cuckolded husband. Further, this child grows to adulthood with the husband never knowing that he’s been raising another man’s pup.
The series tends to prolong the drama as this episode left the viewer hanging as to which one of the Darling children, according to the wife’s Gynecologist, was not sired by Tripp Darling.
The viewer was also left hanging as to what happened to Nick’s father and how these shady Italian characters played into his sudden death.
Peppered throughout the show there are many sub-plots. A set of twins wrestle with maturity and the inevitable sibling separation caused when one falls in love and seeks a life separate from twinhood.
One Darling sibling is a preacher of some sort. This character is busy dealing with an illegitimate son come back from his past.
Meanwhile, the Georges are desperately trying to maintain their steady marital relationship with the knowledge that Nick George once bedded one of the Darling daughters.
It’s a crazy, twisting, sometimes funny, sometimes sad drama series with plenty of sub-plot twists and turns to keep the viewer’s mind busy trying to track it all.
Folks, I love this show and have become a devotee.
Review: ABC’s “Private Practice”
ABC’s web site for “Private Practice”
The Oceanside Wellness Group is a California invention. A group of physicians of all stripes bands together and starts a mini-hospital of sorts and boom, a medical series that would ostensibly combine the drama of these medico’s interpersonal relationships along with the drama of the patients they treat is born.
In fact, these physicians either have had, or will soon be having, an intertwined life with each other. Dr. Sam Bennett, the PR guru of the medical practice, had been married to Dr. Naomi Bennett, the group’s fertility specialist. Dr. Freedman, a Pediatrician is madly in love with Dr. Violet Turner, the group’s resident shrink. Dr. Pete Wilder, an “Alternative Medical Specialist”…only in California, has a passing love interest with the group’s Gynecologist, Dr. Addison Forbes.
So we have all this going on and one must wonder how these physicians will get anything done.
Add to these little dramas that can unfold in a myriad of ways depending on how the writers pen the tale, there is also the stories of the patients who come to the Oceanside Wellness Group.
On the night of my viewing, Wednesday, 10/17/07, there were three patient sub-plots going on and I didn’t believe a word of any of them.
One involved a young boy who visited the pediatrician, Dr. Freedman. The adolescent professed an unrequited love for another adolescent. Dr. Freedman urged his charge to tell his would-be love of his feelings and he too vowed he’d reveal his passion for his own love. Only the kid was in love with another male and he ended up beaten pretty badly after following the advice of the doctor and revealed his adoration to the boy of his dreams.
Another patient sub-plot involved a pregnant female who suffers a lot of pain that the more normal medicos attributed as being brought on by herself. Of course the Oceanside Wellness Group has a bunch of physicians with nothing better to do than to get together and work out this patient’s problems. Eventually, after much drama it is discovered that the young lady has Crohn’s disease, an irritable intestine that makes the absorption of food difficult and causes loss of weight.
The final sub-plot on the night I tuned in was the most unbelievable of all. It involved our alternative medical guru and an old couple that sought his medical advice as the old fellow had this habit of constantly passing out suddenly and with no warning.
The older woman was all upset because she thinks the passing out episodes are occurring because of her and the old guy’s recent engagement to be married. She tells Dr. Wilder that she and her boyfriend had been having a lot of sex but she’s heartbroken that her fellow seems to be acting out his reluctance to remarry by passing out.
Dr. Wilder solves this couple’s problem by calling them into his office and commanding them to show him how they’ve been having all that sex. And of course the elderly woman proceeds to straddle her old boyfriend as illustration of their “technique” for the medico.
Heh.
This scenario would happen in real life and pigs might fly. At any rate, the alternative medical guru ascertains that it’s the old couple’s sexual positions that was causing the old guy to pass out. Further, the alternative medical guru was able to make the old guy pass out on command with but a pinch at the back of his neck.
Heh.
Well watch the scene for yourself…below.
I may or may not watch this show again. It’s definitely a “chick flick” type of show and goodness knows I like chick flicks. But combined with that California Moonbat element and doctor-patient relationships that are difficult to believe, I don’t know if “Private Practice” might not be chick overkill.
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Focus on TV Posts of Fame
Those Wacky TV Chefs. Includes Rachel Ray and the sexiest chef of them all.
TV News Pundits including Russert, spitting Matthews and the one I adore.
"Dancing with the Stars" of 2007, reviews, pics and videos.
American Idol 2007 and The Bachelor. One night's review with links to all the others.
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Clothes Do Make the Man
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It didn't take a Psychology degree to know that my sister's beloved boyfriend, Marcus B. Bradford, was a transvestite. The lacy underwear would be a first clue but my sister Angie doesn't know that I know about the panties. Angie also didn't know about Mark's other hobby, which would be robbing local stores and banks while dressed in his favorite female fashion.
Were I to be painfully honest I'd have to acknowledge that I too did not know about Mark's extra-curricular robbery activities until the day he robbed a local bank dressed in a burka of all things.
The burka, that head-to-toe covering worn by Muslim females, is definitely NOT the sort of attire Mark would normally wear what with that fashion's sheet-like covering and drab coloring. In fact I'll go out on a limb here and suggest that Mark only donned a burka just so he could rob a bank and not be identified.
My darling sister Angie was but a child of 18 when she met and fell hopelessly in love with that cross-dressing loser Marcus B. Bradford. And I only include that "loser" title because of Mark's illegal activities. Transvestites have rights too.
"He's so sensitive," Angie positively purred to me after introducing me to her beau. Mark was a very nice-looking fellow, dashing, debonair, well-spoken. He was 28 years old to my baby sister's late adolescence and this fact gave me pause. Angie's a cute thing but she's no beauty. She's bright but not overly so. Her personality is bouncy at times but most times she's circumspect, almost withdrawn. I couldn't for the life of me see what this "older" fellow saw in my sister although it could have been her penchant for pink, lacy panties.
Which panties I caught the debonair Mark walking in all about our house one bright morning when I'd returned home for a forgotten object. Mark was supposed to be looking for an apartment of his own but was staying at Mom's house, allegedly in the space over our garage although I'd caught him several times prancing around my and Angie's bedroom. Angie would often be out of the room in mid of night I'd also noted. Mom thought Mark was a nice guy and a great catch for the somewhat plain Angie.
I had no idea it was Mark out and about in our community robbing liquor stores, gas stations, and once even a library! I was in the dark about this because the local yokel radio station kept reporting the "female" involved in the series of robberies in our area. Indeed Angie and I even laughed at the thought of the allegedly well-dressed woman sometimes caught on tape in the act of armed robbery.
"I'd never have the courage to rob somebody," Angie said. Of course I wouldn't either but I sort of admired the moxie of a woman who would do such a thing. I don't know why, it's an odd thing to admire. But I was nonetheless amused at the spate of robberies in our area, all attributed to this one lone female. It was the sort of thing that women take note of and no, not Mom, me or Angie noted the connection of Mark's arrival in Angie's life to the female robberies.
The female robber's taste in clothes was superb and this fact kept the pundits gossiping. "The robber wore a red linen suit accessorized with a gold starburst pin," one serious news reporter thus described, I am not making this up. Had I been paying attention to the grainy and blurry videos frequently shown on the TV I might have noticed that the infamous "fashionable female robber" was wearing one of Angie's favorite empire-waist tops along with her happening straight-legged jeans.
This is not to say there wasn't speculation that the robber might indeed be a male dressing as a woman. In fact Mom, me and Angie would often speculate that only a guy dressed up like a woman would do such a thing. "I could swear that the person, male or female, was wearing the same baby-doll top I bought just like week," Angie commented.
You'd think we'd have gotten a clue but it was a busy time for all of us. Mark was busy robbing stores all over the city while dressed as a woman. Mom was involved in some medical issue or another concerning our elderly grandmother. Angie was all in love with Mark, going out on dates and even accompanying him to look for apartments. Angie said Mark wanted her opinion because he wanted them both to live in a chosen apartment together. I was busy planning the neighborhood Halloween party in my job as President of the community association.
Hidden Pines residential association had stopped the activity of door-to-door trick or treating four years prior to Mark the transvestite's entry into our lives. The community association had agreed that if the children of the community would all cease that cherished Halloween activity of walking the streets while seeking handouts from homeowners, that the community association itself would put on a Halloween party with plenty of candy at the Hidden Pines Community Association building. It was an attempt to keep down vandalism and unknown dangers to the children.
Actually my mother, the real Hidden Pines homeowner, was the residents' association president but since she was so busy with my grandmother, I agreed to take over Mom's duties.
It was a standard Halloween party affair. We had apple dunking, a sort of Halloween piñata affair, a bogus psychic. I worked feverishly and Angie helped. We usually end these Halloween parties by having some sort of scary scene acted out. Angie was in charge of this part. I had just given the last child an orange and black cupcake topped with a candy corn when the planned drama began. I had no idea what Angie had arranged and frankly I was so tired that she could have had a real hanging for all I cared.
First the burka-clad person entered the room. I had no idea whether the human under that blue garment that completely covered the individual wearing it head to toe with just a small slit for the eyes was male or female. Further, this party attendee sure was a tad late what with almost all of the festivities over. Finally, I wondered who would wear a burka as a Halloween costume.
It was when the police burst into the room that I realized that the burka-clad person was probably Angie and this very real police scene was part of her pre-arranged scary drama. I rocked on my heels and watched the action. The kids who had not already left by that time laughed uproariously as Angie wrestled the cops who seemed determined to bring her down.
"Praise Allah!" a distinctly male voice shouted from under that burka and I'll admit this confused me. Those cops were being right rough with my little sister as well. It was one of the fake police shocked my little sister with a tazer that I decided to intervene. This was one Halloween drama that, while very realistic and interesting, was getting out of hand.
I went over and touched one of the cop's hands gently, just as a gentle reminder that these were just children here and perhaps it was time to end the drama.
Only the fake cop didn't interpret my gentle hand touch that way and before I could utter a word my own arms were pulled behind my back and I felt the cold metal of the handcuffs closing tight.
"All right you guys," I shouted because frankly I didn't like this handcuff nonsense and some of the children began crying in fear. I managed to stand upright, which isn't easy with your hands cuffed behind your back, something I did not know.
It was then that the jolt of electricity shot through me godawful. I screamed and soon the entire room of costumed children were screaming and running around. The person in the burka was shouting praises to Allah and some Hidden Pines resident dressed as a police officer was shouting in my ear to lay still or I'd get zapped again.
So far as I was concerned these guys had carried their reality a little too far. "You get these handcuffs off of me or I'm going to call the REAL cops on you creeps," I shouted. Another jolt from the tazer sent me tumbling to the floor. Once the redness of the pain cleared from my vision, I looked up to see Angie sobbing hysterically over my prostrate body.
"Cathy, it's Marcus," I heard Angie say through her sobs. "He's in the burka. These cops are real. They think he just robbed the bank down on Route 15."
Of course my mind was not processing information correctly what with my body still shaking from the tazer jolts and the nut in the burka still praising Allah. I managed to sit upright and noted the burka was now in a cloth puddle on the association's floor. I also noted Mark, wearing only a pair of maroon women's underwear, was standing by the burka pile, his hands handcuffed behind him. Mark continued to shout praise to Allah.
The Hidden Pines Residents Association settled with the children left so terrified by the incident that their little minds would not rest until their parents were given a few hundred bucks to help make their kids forget the sight of my own fine self screaming, handcuffed and tazered, not to mention Mark and the maroon women's panties.
Mom got her mother settled into the nursing home and sent in notice to the residents association a commitment that when it was her turn to run the annual Halloween party she would not allow her daughters as replacement.
I survived the tazering and no, the cops did not apologize to me even though I explained the cause of my confusion. It seems that due to the recent spate of robberies the local police department had cops staked out at certain liquor stores and banks in the area. When Mark left the bank in that burka, a cop assigned to the bank he'd robbed followed him. Mark had made a beeline directly to our Halloween party, which he'd known about, I suppose to somehow assimilate in with the costumed children long enough for the police to lose his trail, I just don't know.
Mark got five years with a possibility of parole after three years. He shares a cell with a big guy known as "Babe".
It was how this mess affected Angie that is most amazing result of this fiasco. Once Mark was arrested and our family's rather stupid involvement with Mark became publicly known, a local daytime woman's talk show found out that it was Angie's fashions that Mark had been wearing all over town during his robbing stampede. Angie was booked as a guest and what with this attention and, I must admit, Angie's fine fashion sense, an investor came forward with an offer to finance Angie's own fashion line.
"Angie's Apparel" was featured on The Learning Channel, along with the story of Mark the transvestite and her dopey sister of the painful tazers.
Mark's jailhouse lawyer has written a letter demanding equal share in the company. Angie and I both have a tazer gun ready if that nut ever comes near our house.
FOCUS ON FICTION
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She wanted a man just like her favorite bird-the cardinal.
Her wish was granted.
So why is she fleeing far away to the west coast?
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From Chaucer's Women
We may be breaking the law, but the intellectual property is mine. It's fiction but hey it's blisteringly political.
The story involves a prominent politician and was part of a larger book of such short stories.
Check it out and see if you can guess who it is And the famous incident it details. Hint: Younger folks might not get it but the more mature will recognize it immediately.
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1 comment:
Private Practice is my new guilty pleasure. I'm loving it!!! btw--this is a very cool post!!
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