**The Wonder Women discovered today that they lost a sorority sister this week. Too young, too soon. Send uplifting thoughts to a small wee family in Lynchburg, Virginia that lost a mommy, wife, and daughter. If you will.**
Sing along with me now:
Wicky wicky wicky wicky wicky wick bam
Wicky wicky wicky wicky wicky wick bee bam
DUM dumdum
DUM dumdum
Who are you. Who who who who I really wanna know
Who are you. Who who who who?
Anybody with me?
Schmuppy dog absolutely loves this theme tune. Whenever it plays, he perks up his absolutely enormous ears, cocks his head in a classic look of “what the heck is that crazy noise??” and stares riveted at the screen until the wicky wicky part of the song stops. I tried to describe this puppy fascination in person to my husband and sister one time, and when I sang out the wicky wicky part, they both collapsed on the ground in hysterical laughter. I think it’s an accurate vocal representation of a really weird noise. Sniff.
So, I’m talking here about the opening credits to CSI. I believe this stands for Crime Scene Investigation. It’s a show that Darlin’ refuses to watch on the basis that it is “stupid” and also “a waste of time.” Hellooo, ten hours of baseball anyone? So, I make sure to time my Netflix rental for a night that he is not around – which anybody who knows the postal service can tell you, is not an easy thing to do.
CSI is a silly, silly show, but it would be a very boring show if it were at all true to life. And even though sometimes the whole situation of explaining stuff to the dumb person on the screen so the dumb people watching can follow complicated scientific techniques – is a little clumsy. Much like that sentence. (I believe in literature they call these dumb people that give us a window into complexity, the “expositionals.”) Some of the stuff that happens is ridiculous, and not everybody in Las Vegas is sexy, and the children of the working parents in the show only come in once in a blue moon when they further the story but are conveniently absent when, say, Catherine has to suddenly run out real quick and do something important and investigative. But I say, so what? Who wants to watch real life??
This show does not edify me, like, say, a documentary about the children of Calcutta prostitutes. It does not make me think for hours afterward about the beauty and artistry, like some entertainment can. It does not make me swoon over the character actors, costumes, and writing, like a certain cancelled HBO series does. Maybe watching it is a waste of time, like Darlin’ says.
Too bad. I like it. Wikki on, Catherine, Grissom, and Co. Wikki on.
Peace Out, DUM DUM – G