If I’m guilty of being a couchpotato nerd vampire, TV is the audio, visual & emotional blood-fix I crave every second of every day. So, I decided to harness my life-long passion and experience into couchpotato.buzz – a website where I can write about TV in a less formal way than all those less fun sites which can’t say words like tits and ass-witch.
WHAT ELEVATES COUCHPOTATO ABOVE OTHER TV SITES?
Couchpotato is about television and television only. I may reference them but I don’t report on movies. Ever.
Most importantly, I’m not interested in pointlessly recapping the events of an episode you’ve just watched. I focus on the most interesting aspects of an episode, often providing deep insight into storytelling, structure, mythology, writing, direction and editing.
If you’re a serious TV aficionado or budding writer or director, you’ll hopefully learn a thing or two from my unstructured, stream of consciousness diatribes!
WHEN DID THIS LOVE OF TV BEGIN?
As a feral child, raised by wolves, I lived in a world where Uncle Jesse from Hazzard County taught me to make moonshine and where police boxes were bigger on the inside. I survived as a Littlest Hobo, went thru sixteen different flavors of hell and got by with a little help from my friends, would never, ever get on no plane, fool… but always, always went back for Bobbi’s Unicorn.
As a teenage Desperado, I drank my Earl Grey hot, learned The Facts of Life from Al and Peggy Bundy and spent Happy Days hitching rides with Perfect Strangers from Eerie, Indiana to Beverly Hills, 90210 where I moved in with my Auntie and Uncle in Bel Air. I killed Laura Palmer and was abducted by aliens/mountain lions on a weekly basis. Oh boy!
As an adult, I’ve been an E.R. Doctor who has slain vampires, worked in The Office, The Newsroom and Studio 60, crash-landed and been Lost on magical islands, curbed my enthusiasm, walked The Path, worn The Wire, sworn oaths to President Josiah Bartlett, saved President David Palmer 24 times and traveled through time to prevent J.F.K.’s assassination.
I’ve been 86’d from Al Swearengen’s whorehouse. I’ve ridden with SAMCRO, fornicated in Cali, used science (bitch!) to make crystal meth in ABQ, hacked Evil Corp in NYC, watched the money in that banana stand go up in smoke and witnessed 140 million people depart before my very eyes.
Yet, after all this time, everywhere I go, a part of me still has one eye out for that one-armed man wot murdered my wife.