by Iloz Zoc

Around two-thirds into Murder-Set-Pieces I looked at my watch. I don't do that often when watching a film. In this case, though, I looked at it twice. I really wanted to get it over with, and, unlike some reviewers less meticulous (or masochistic) than I, I always watch the whole movie just to make sure I don't miss anything that remotely resembles art, or scares, or anything that stands out as a memorable horror-moment. I was disappointed that I didn't find anything like that here.

At the end of the movie I sighed with relief and wondered what I ever did to the staff at The Haunted Report to warrant them sending me this emotionless and tensionless excursion into the mind and actions of a one-dimensional, neo-Nazi, muscle-bound serial killing photographer prowling Las Vegas for his next torture-gig photo shoot. America's Top Model has more tension. Maybe I should send the staff a fruit basket for the holidays. Then maybe they'd send me the A stuff.

While many of the reviews for Murder-Set-Pieces mercilessly castigate director Nick Palumbo as a misogynistic this or racist that, that's not quite the vibe I picked up. He's just doing what any director does — telling his unsavory story through the camera lens. I actually thought Palumbo did a solid job of direction, but just made some questionable choices with the material, like his confusing use of ill-placed, tinkling music, flashbacks and shock-montages into the fractured mind of the nutbag photographer, or the spin-art overuse of blood on everything in sight. Then there's the bordering-on-comic way he'd cut to the photographer driving in his Mustang, again and again, prowling night-time Las Vegas for more nudie-cutie opportunities, with the same overused audio of the car's engine racing and sputtering.

But the most important directorial misstep here is the lack of tension-building suspense and the pedestrian way in which each murder-set-piece is handled. At no time are any of the tortures or murders the least bit shocking, the least bit emotionally draining. We follow the photographer around, as he bounces off the padded walls of his mind, as if we're carrying his equipment bag and nothing more. And when he whips out that straight razor, there's no fearful whimper from us, no gasps. Perhaps I'd have been more drawn in with the uncut version of the film, but Anchor Bay's R-rated DVD only implies defilement and torture, and cuts away from the chainsaw-through-head type of chunky violence gore-hounds love. So gore-hounds be warned: look for the uncut version if you are so inclined. As for me, I'd rather have more meat and less sauce.

Which brings us to the storyline itself, which is less meaty and less filling than a horror movie should be. Due in large part to Sven Garrett's lifeless performance as the photographer with too much killing time on his hands. Even though he suffers from manic bouts of shouting in German, and nose-bleeds as he flashbacks in weird vignettes with him as a boy walking train tracks while a flirtatious blonde parades in front of him, while his look is right, that's where his energy for the role ends. When he pumps iron, all sweaty and gritty, he still doesn't pump enough energy to light a diode, let alone a performance that cries out for psychotic, balls-to the-wall-abandon. His torture and killing sprees are monotone, with the only lively color coming from the blood all around him. So what if he likes to eat his meat raw and bloody? Without the gusto, it's just undercooked.

Even the cameos with Gunnar Hansen and Tony Todd do nothing to fortify the film. Hansen, playing another neo-Nazi crazy, sells the photographer a gun, and Todd, who manages an Adult Video store, tries to throw him out after he asks for a snuff film called Nutbag (an in-joke reference to Palumbo's other film).

The hidden torture-death playroom he uses to humiliate and terrorize his victims is a caricature of a hidden torture-death playroom, and doesn't generate an atmosphere of dread anticipation and fear. Way too much red blood is spattered over everything, making it more of a demonic Pee Wee Herman's acid-trip induced idea of what a playroom should be. While it does reflect a bit of a 1970s gleefully repellent grindhouse sensibility, with naked, hanging upside down and chair-bound women, it fails to elicit feelings of disgust or shocks of horror. Palumbo and Garrett show no finesse in the fine art of building and sustaining tension, even when the chainsaw comes out for some head-scratching the hard way.

The plot motivations also lead to some head-scratching. When the photographer's girlfriend pines away for him after he breaks off the relationship, he's such a lifeless kind of guy, you wonder where her tears are coming from. Even her little sister knows the guy's a creep and good riddance. Even after the break-up, he's still stalking the kid, watching her from his Mustang. When the kid complains, her big sister doesn't want to hear it; so she steals the spare, creepy-freaky guy's house key, begs a total stranger to drive her to his house, and lets herself in — to do what, exactly? Why didn't she just go to the police? What, the Vegas cops too busy to follow up on one more psycho? Especially when they've got a trail of dead bimbos across the strip? That's when I looked at my watch a second time.

The ensuing encounter between her and him, as he's all bloodied-up from playing with another hapless victim, is devoid of terror and suspense. There was no build-up leading to this encounter, so when it comes, it plays out without fanfare or intensity. When she hides under his bed — apparently the kid has never seen a horror film — I rolled my eyes in disbelief, and when she runs back to the playroom to hide — you know, the no-exit, basement torture-chamber soaked in wall to wall blood and nicely decorated with his recent kills — I doubted Palumbo ran his script through the reality-checker first.

The ending leaves the photographer with a headache and a sequelization antic that could spawn another film, and the blood-spattered, and hopefully wiser kid, walking down the highway in shock.

She wasn't the only one.

Well, it's been awhile, but the Mrs. and myself finally got around to sitting down and watching another flick together. This time around we take a look at E.G. Daily (of Tommy Pickles and Pee Wee Herman fame) as she jumps into the reins of a madame hell-bent on revenge. Does it work? Read on to find out!

She said:

So my husband messages me and tells me he has a new movie for us to watch. Mustang Sally is the name, starring one of my favorite B-movie queens E.G. Daily (yeah, Tommy Pickles, also in Valley Girl and Pee Wee's Big Adventure). He tells me she plays a prostitute who kills her clients. Okay, interesting idea… however there is more to it, or rather they meant to have more to it than that.

One thing I will start off saying is that the movie was not that bad. I enjoyed it. Got a lot of chuckles out of the writing. However the story is a tad confusing at times and unfortunately, too obvious at others. Our writer, director, and cameo actor Iren Koster had some great ideas on this movie. However he let too many things slip which ruined what could have been a great twist. There were no misdirections, there were no red herrings, there were no big shocks at all as far as the story line went. When major plot information came out, it just spurted all at once (pun intended) and came at you so fast that you almost couldn't digest it, then once you did it was like — well now what are we going to do with the second half of this movie?

The young men visiting the bordello are sent in on what is an obvious set-up. Three bikers enter a bar and talk the place up within ear-shot of the boys. The characters were very stereotypical. We had our jock who carried a football around like a security blanket, we had our goofy little comedy relief (and I am sorry, the boy needs some acting classes, his deliveries were way off), we had our rich boy, our sensitive guy — you name it, they were there, but only on the surface. No depth to them, nothing. The prostitutes were the same way. It was all very cut-and-paste, and not a lot of information on where Sally met these women.

We had characters show up that made neither real sense nor helped to really further along the plot line, such as the sheriff. We got too much information on Sally; we didn't get enough information on the boys' fathers who actually committed the crime against Sally. The ending was confusing on how our main boy got into the hospital in the first place. And had we not been given the information on who Sally was, well the ending would have been a great shocker.

The gore and the deaths were pretty damn creative for the most part. I got a kick out of that. The acting was below par, mood swings happened that made no sense, deliveries were pretty weak, but the writing was good. Very funny stuff throughout. Nudity, for those of you who care — not so much, considering the theme.

2 boot lickings out of 5.

He said:

So, for starters I must be honest. My original draw here was for E.G. Daily dressing up as a prostitute. Just so you all know what expectations I had going into this.

That said, I was pleased with what I got! Outside of general eye candy, I still remained somewhat pleased with this low budget extravaganza despite the issues contained within.

Plot descriptions on IMDb lead one to believe that Mustang Sally could be the tale of some evil prostitutes doing evil for evil’s sake. Once we dig down to the meat and potatoes, that’s not the case at all. What we have here is a pure and simple revenge fantasy al la I Spit on Your Grave without the gritty realism of said flick. More along the lines of Pumpkinhead 2 sans the big-headed revenge demon, the story here is near identical. Where the two flicks differ however is this time around, they give too much story too early, leaving us with little to no fat to chew on in between. Revealing the hooker motive early on, there’s little to no mystery involved. But, when you’re watching scantily clad women murder all of the stereotyped clichés that you loathed in high school, how much mystery do you really need?

Mustang Sally, in the end, is just a good time; mindless watching with nothing to figure out, nothing to concentrate on. The acting throughout is mediocre at best and cringe-worthy at worst, but it all adds up to B-movie fare that will make you giggle a fair bit throughout. And did I mention the scantily clad women? Those are always nice too. You know what’s going to happen; you know how it’s going to happen. It’s just a matter of what order they are going to fall. With the bookend scenes of the main emo boy in the hospital going over his story, the beginning works as a good setup for the tale; when we go full circle to the point he is in the hospital, we never really find out how. As confusion sets in, the twist unfolds and all becomes clear. While this was a nice twist it was handled in the muddiest and most confusing manner possible, making this go from a "holy shit!" twist to a "eh, figured that’s where they were going" in about two seconds flat.

So if you think you’d like to see E.G. Daily in stripper shoes, this is your flick. If you’d like to watch prostitutes dressed as laughable stereotypes laying waste to annoying teenage boys, fire it up. If you’re looking for an engrossing tale filled with twists and turns and edge of your seat tension — better head back to Blockbuster.

2.5 scantily clad stabbers out of 5.

There's a great big empty hole in my life. Or at least my Thursday nights. Scrubs wrapped up its sixth (and we presume penultimate) season a few weeks ago with one of the sweetest moments in the show's run, and I have an intense yearning to quickly see my friends at Sacred Heart again and find out what happens to them next.

The latter part of that request won't be possible until sometime this fall, but I can always rely on my trusty DVD player to let me peek in on TV's wackiest – and, if the special features are to be believed, most realistic – doctors. Enter Scrubs – The Complete Fifth Season.

I first got into Scrubs just before the beginning of the sixth season by watching DVDs, and I discovered that it's a perfect show for the format. You can easily devour half a dozen episodes without leaving your chair, and only when it comes time to change the disc do you realize you haven't moved in three hours. As the seasons have progressed, that characteristic has only grown as the show has folded more and more engaging drama in with its unique brand of razor-sharp, lightning-quick wit.

The fifth season of Scrubs features some of the series' finest dramatic work, none better than a three-episode arc set up for Dr. Cox (John C. McGinley): "My Lunch," "My Fallen Idol," and "My Déjà Vu, My Déjà Vu." The heartbreaking final scenes of the first, set to The Fray's now-overplayed "How to Save a Life," are perfectly offset by McGinley's silent mourning in the second and third.

Of course, the comedy here is also top-notch. Mandy Moore joins the cast mid-season as a new love interest for J.D. (Zach Braff) and proves herself a surprisingly deft comedienne; Turk (Donald Faison) fronts an air band with the Todd (Rob Maschio), Janitor (Neil Flynn), and Ted (Sam Lloyd); the Todd confronts his sexuality — the sidesplitting moments come at you from all angles.

The centerpiece of the DVD set is the celebration of the series' 100th episode, "My Way Home," an ingenious homage to The Wizard of Oz directed by Braff. In addition to the sequential, 22-minute episode on the disc, you get to see an extended cut with optional commentary by Braff. Alone in the studio, there isn't much for Braff to do in the commentary, but it provides some nice insights all the same.

With deleted scenes and alternate takes for almost every episode that highlight the impressive comedic chops and improvisational skills that the cast has, this set is a great addition to any collection. Sure, Scrubs is now shown in syndication, but the DVD is a must for any fan so devoted that they pumped their fist upon hearing that NBC renewed the show for its seventh season.

For the past three summers, Fox has whipped up a deliciously spicy little reality treat, Hell’s Kitchen, starring the inimitable Gordon Ramsay as a complete and utter SOB.

The premise is simple: take 16 chefs (or wanna-be chefs) that want a big time restaurant of their own, make them work together in a restaurant while yelling at them every second of the day and night, and kick one off the show every episode, last person standing gets the restaurant.

It’s Survivor but with Simon Cowell replacing Jeff Probst and getting to be judge, jury, and executioner. Hell’s Kitchen does not play at letting the audience decide who will be eliminated, that choice rests with Gordon Ramsay alone.

On June 4, the third season of Hell’s Kitchen started up, and Ramsay was back to his old ways, ridiculing all 16 chefs, finding the weak members of the pack and picking them off. The teams were separated into the now traditional men versus women, and informed that the restaurant would open the next night.

True to form, once the restaurant opened, Ramsay was disgusted by the way the chefs were performing and shut down the kitchen and restaurant before even finishing serving the appetizers for all the tables. This ought not to have come as a surprise to the diners, as this happens every season, but more than a few seemed shocked by the poor quality of service. Ramsay declared the losing team to be the women, due to their inability to talk to one another, a huge pet peeve of the Chef’s, and to fry an egg. Ramsay, for some reason we are not privy to declares Melissa to be “the best of the worst” and asks her to nominate two people to be booted off the show.

Melissa meets individually with members of her team; everyone she speaks to wants Julia nominated because she’s a short order cook at a Waffle House (how do these people not like Waffle House?). Instead, Tiffany and Joanna are nominated, the first for not being able to fry an egg and the second for her lack of communication.

Nominating Tiffany is just wonderfully fun, because Melissa had specifically promised Tiffany during their conversation that she was safe, that there was no way she would be going home that night. Then, of course, Melissa nominated her. Needless to say, Chef Ramsay booted Tiffany. What a great opening backstab to the season. And, the true genius of it is that no one heard Melissa tell Tiffany she was safe, and so no one knows just how two-faced Melissa is.

Some would argue that Ramsay is overly cruel and relishes his role a little too much. I completely disagree. As the season progresses, Ramsay will start to show a softer side and will start to talk to and open up to the contestants. Don’t think that he’s just playing at being tough up front though, he may open up to people later, but he’ll still flay them if they disappoint in the kitchen.If there was a weakness to last night’s episode, it’s that it traded a little too much on knowledge of previous seasons. The rules, regulations, and procedures were not fully explained. There really isn’t a lot to understand, but to help bring in new audience members, it might have behooved the show to do a little bit more of an introduction.

Nothing burps better than Billy Zane. It's the honest truth, dear readers. As soon as you and your Aunt Linda have finished consuming any of the dozens of various cinematic wafers on the bald one's unique resume, your sun-starved bodies will automatically become inflated with the gaseous compound known within scientific circles as BZ-14. The sudden explosion of this fragrant wind from your sickly piehole is a most enjoyable experience to behold. In fact, I strongly encourage anyone who has an abundance of BZ-14 currently turning chemical tricks in their seedy bellies to share that odorous air with whomever happens to be sitting to their immediate left and/or right.

I'll wait right here until you get back.

If you're eager to experience this oh-so satisfying gastronomical eruption for yourself, I'm very happy to report that director John Kalangis' deadpan zombie comedy The Mad is literally crawling with that delicious BZ-14 compound, thereby providing all of the required elements for a truly gut-busting, zombie-slaying good time. Of course, those desperately seeking a typical run-of-the-mill undead shocker may find themselves whining incessantly about the kooky antics gyrating wildly across their stepdad's second-hand television. In other words, you may want to pack your twisted sense of humor in the boot before embarking on this hilariously demented 90-minute family vacation.

Shiny bespectacled Billy Zane stars as Jason Hunt, a former New Wave musician turned family physician who finds himself metaphorically shackled within the dank, dark dungeon of what is commonly referred to as the dysfunctional family holiday. When a small detour from their predetermined plans lands them smack dab in the middle of nowhere, our bitterly bickering brood is forced to seek shelter within a dingy bed and breakfast reminiscent of the lodgings found skulking around your darkest nightmares. If you've ever taken a road trip through the eastern Kentucky mountains, I'm sure you're painfully familiar with this sort of off-beat derelict rat hole. My condolences.

To add yet another layer of deep-fried family fun to their wonky summer adventure, Jason and his daughter Amy — accompanied by their respective lovers — pay a visit to a local grease-pit that specializes in chemically-altered, zombie-spawning hamburgers. Unfortunately for our hungry, hungry heroes, the kitchen just ran out of that mouth-watering ground chuck they so feverishly crave. This inexcusable inconvenience, however, has its advantages: Instead of mutating into a legion of mindless skin-peeling zombies with a penchant for random shoplifting, this forlorn foursome is forced to fight their way out of the ensuing madness with the help of a wise-cracking cook and his leggy stepdaughter Steve. Will everyone who's not chewing on a human brain live to snack another day, or will they ultimately find themselves on a soiled menu in truck stop restaurant menu for the eternally damned?

Not everyone on this dying planet is going to enjoy The Mad as much as I did, and I'm fully prepared to live with this horrifying fact as long as nobody feels the need to thrust their crusty opinion into my slightly-confused, baby smooth face. Most of the humor found floating helplessly in this genre-bending bog is of a dialogue-driven nature, leaving those thirsting for a thought-provoking, Romero-inspired splatterfest with nothing to do but twiddle their malfunctioning opposable thumbs. It also takes a while to get into step with Kalangis' dry sense of humor; if you're not willing to stick around until you find its off-beat rhythm, perhaps this isn't the ghoul you're looking for.

And while the film does sport a few uneasy moments of juicy gore, The Mad isn't exactly what you'd call gratuitous in its display of on-screen grue. Please do not be fooled by the large UNRATED graphic plastered prominently on the DVD artwork; the picture's level of squishy content isn't exactly what you'd call overwhelming. To be fair, Kalangis doesn't seem very concerned with turning your stomach into a geyser of putrid proportions or savagely grossing out your significant other to the point of projectile vomiting. The violence is played more for laughs than anything else, a discomforting statement for those anticipating unabashed zombie mayhem. Sorry about that, folks.

It goes without saying that Billy Zane is easily The Mad's greatest asset, delivering an unusually heartfelt performance as a man coming face-to-face with every middle-aged male's worst nightmare: the terrifying, heart-stopping mid-life crisis. When presented with a never-ending army of undead hillbillies with an insatiable hunger for human flesh, Zane's character seems more concerned with rediscovering his techno-oriented musical abilities than overcoming the rotting obstacles wandering around outside. Since the film relies so heavily on the quirky demeanor of its main character, it's good that Kalangis found someone with Zane's skill to spearhead this silly production.

With new horror/comedies crashing the direct-to-video party every other week or so, it makes me all warm and tingly inside whenever I'm faced with an amalgamation that actually gets it right. The Mad is the proverbial diamond in the rough, a straight-to-video sleeper that gives us several nifty reasons to take a chance on all those low-budget genre films currently collecting dust on video store shelves the world over. This picture isn't going to change the way the earth rotates around the moon, mind you, but it should provide the appropriate audience with enough bowel-loosening BZ-14 to invoke a serious belch or two.

And once you've burped Billy, there's no going back.

The Sundance Channel continues its "The Green" series with Create on Jun 5 at 9pm. This week the program explores the world of creativity in an environmentally friendly format. Yes, even for artists and craftspeople, there are eco-friendly ways to approach problems. I am becoming a big fan of the Big Ideas series, they find some truly unique solutions to problems. This week's program follows the standard format of three 10-minute segments.

In segment one we meet Subhankar Banerjee, a world renowned photographer of the Arctic. In a segment that is both light and uplifting, he shows us some of the unique solutions that the Arctic people have found to some of their problems.

On a much darker note Subhankar also explores the effects of pollution and global warming on this fragile ecosystem, and even more fragile culture. The ice is no longer where it was, the lakes that sustain the animals have become marshland, and the entire culture has reached a state of imbalance that not only affects the native population, but also the animal and sea life that they are so dependent upon. The eternal thirst for oil is also a cause for concern. Our drive for "black gold" is also producing potentially horrendous problems at the roof of the world.

The second segment is much more upbeat; we meet the delightful and slightly eccentric artist Alyce Santoro. Ms Santoro has found a great way to recycle all of those cassette tapes from that bygone era that are piled up in all of our basements. She created a method of weaving the tapes into material for clothing or decoration. In a unique TV experience she produces a cassette recorder that has undergone some slight modification, so that you can "hear" the fabric! I loved that, I want one!

The final segment introduced me to a new word, "upcycling". This is taking something that has outlived its useful life and finding a new and more important use for it. Architect David Hertz explains that a Boeing 747 when new costs tens of millions of dollars, but when it has outlived its airworthiness it is just a pile of scrap.

But just because it can no longer fly does not mean that it is useless. It was designed to exacting specifications, it was built using very high quality materials designed to withstand any environment, and, it is esthetically pleasing to the eye. David takes us on the ultimate 747 adventure — he turns one into a house! Now that is what I call upcycling!

Sundance is not available on all cable systems, but don’t worry, they have a great website that contains the segments. I do hope that one of the mainstream media outlets picks this gem up — great ideas, great people, and a riveting 30 minutes. Big Ideas For A Small Planet is well worth checking out.

It is not an easy task to breathe new life into a tale as old as that of Robin Hood. Having made his first appearance in the late thirteenth century, the last seven hundred plus years have given us a pretty good idea of what to expect when we hear the name. In fact, I would be willing to bet that the moment you read the name “Robin Hood” you automatically conjured up a vision of a man with a pointy beard, a green uniform, a silly looking hat, and a ubiquitous bow and arrow. Perhaps you saw Errol Flynn or a cartoon fox in your mind. Even worse, you might have envisioned Kevin Costner with a terrible accent. However, the BBC has done its very best to enliven the rather staid ideal of Robin Hood with this series, recently seen on this side of the Atlantic on BBC America and releasing on DVD June 5.

If one were to judge a book (or in this case, a DVD set) by its cover, you could easily infer that this version of Robin Hood is the sort of overly important looking historical drama found on PBS. However, this show is pure fun and a bit campy at times. There is no silly looking hat on this Robin and there are certainly no green tights to be found. Instead, Jonas Armstrong’s Robin appears to be a medieval emo trendsetter who sports artfully shaggy hair and a hoodie. Fans of British television shows will recognize a majority of the cast including comedian Keith Allen (father of musical sensation Lily Allen) vamping it up and chewing the scenery as the Sheriff of Nottingham and Richard Armitage as a wonderfully slimy and loathsome Guy of Gisborne.

The Robin Hood – Season One box set consists of four discs which include all thirteen forty-five minute long episodes from the first season. Additionally, the set includes a fifth disc of bonus features. These features include: audio commentary from cast members on several episodes, a mini-documentary taking you behind the scenes of the series, and a pair of short features about the design of the set and the design of the costumes.

Fans of the story of Robin Hood are certain to like this DVD set. Having watched the series during its initial U.S. run on BBC America, I found the episodes to move along at a quick pace and thought that they were a pure joy to watch. It’s cheeky fun and an action-packed update on the classic tale that will likely hook you in and have you anxious for the second series, which is currently in production.

“One of you is going to run a restaurant and yet you’re all wimping around… and if you think tonight you have got your butts kicked, you’ve seen nothing yet.”

Gordon Ramsay is not known for his delicate communication skills, which makes for a tense work environment and some pretty good television. That’s right, Hell’s Kitchen is back for its third season.

If the season previews are to be believed, this edgy reality series may be pushing the boundaries for how far the mouthy Brit can go in the coming months. But, as Fox is known to do, I expect that the contestant mutiny and ambulance lights may not be as dramatic as they are hinting.

Still, the season premier was full of backstabbing, cattiness, and tears — from both sides of the kitchen. As usual Ramsay asked the would-be culinary stars to prepare their signature dishes, of which only two didn’t make him want to vomit. This never surprises me since Ramsay is such an epicurean snob and most of the contestants barely have any cooking experience.

Does a short order cook or a nanny/personal chef have a snowball’s chance of running their own fine dining establishment? I think not. This season’s cast seems weaker than most, however. There are fewer people with relevant experience and more with huge attitudes to make up the difference.

Ramsay then divided the contestants into red and blue teams: the women on red, the men on blue. Both teams were abysmal in the kitchen, with the red team exemplifying that cliché image of women baring their claws during competition, while the blue team overcooked all of its food and I don’t think even got an appetizer out to the dining room. Tears flowed on both teams, though it was Aaron, the Asian cowboy, who started things off and nearly seasoned his dish with snot.

But despite the men’s poor performance, it was the ladies who lost, probably due to their inability to work together. I don’t really think that was fair, since they sent a lot of their food out to mixed reviews while the blue team struggled the whole time.

Melissa was deemed the best of the worst and was tasked with nominating two to go home. After promising Tiffany she wasn’t going home, Melissa nominated her in the end and Ramsay sent her packing. This was a ballsy move for the first episode and it put Melissa on my radar as a formidable contender.

On the blue team, Rock is my favorite for winning the season. Last summer I predicted Heather would take the grand prize from the first episode. Rock, who is already an executive chef, seems the strongest player at this point. He knows the kitchen and the etiquette. But even he messed up on his signature dish. I guess we shall see.

In my mind, there is a realm where childhood memories are so vague that, as the years pass, I wonder if they even took place at all. Were they real, or composites of things that coalesced into a story, or were they merely products of my imagination? One such example was Chiliwack's 1981 hit, "My Girl (Gone, Gone, Gone)." I specifically remember this song when it was out, but I never knew its name. So, because the hook was so similar to The Doors' "Touch Me," I simply morphed the two together until I saw the video one day on VH-1 Classic. It confirmed my belief in the song's existence, but also made me wish the song never was.

Another such memory, but from even further back, was a prime-time cartoon called Wait Till Your Father Gets Home, which ran on ABC from 1972-74. Almost 35 years later, all I can remember is that it featured the voice of Tom Bosley and a snippet of the theme song, because my sisters and I used to sing it whenever our mother would give us that particular warning (my girlfriend, on the other hand, remembers the song almost word-for-word).

As it turns out, the show did, in fact, exist, and today, Warner Brothers releases the first season of the Hanna-Barbera show on DVD. The show stars Bosley as Harry Boyle, a 47-year-old Everydad living in the suburbs with his wife, Irma, and their three children, who range from eight to 22 years old. Most of the episodes deal with Harry's attempts to make sense of his children: Chet, a 22-year-old slacker hippie; Alice, a Cosmo-spouting teenager; and Jamie, an 8-year-old who is always looking to profit from a situation. If that's not difficult enough, he also has his über-conservative neighbor, Ralph Kane, to deal with.

So how has the show held up over the years? Not as well as I had hoped, I'm afraid. It's easy to compare Wait Till Your Father Gets Home with the superlative King Of The Hill in its portrayal of a hard-working, middle-class man struggling to deal with changing times. But where King's humor is sly and subversive, Wait employs standard sitcom plots and tired jokes about inflation and "these kids today." It's a Hanna-Barbera show, after all, so even though they're dealing with the issues of the day, like women's liberation, the Generation Gap, and civil rights, it's still done, for the most part, at the level of The Flintstones or The Jetsons. The annoying laugh track, even more pointless when dealing with a cartoon, doesn't help things, either.

But there are several highlights that make it worth watching. Played by veteran comedy writer Jack Burns, Ralph gets the best lines. A typical Nixon Republican, Ralph sees Communism in everything that isn't his definition of "American", and organizes a vigilante posse of the other neighborhood wingnuts to weed out the infiltration with disastrous results. He's part Archie Bunker and part General Ripper from Dr. Strangelove, shifty-eyed and spewing bigoted comments about minorities, and his ludicrous paranoid conspiracy theories provide every episode with a few genuine laughs.

As with his future role as Howard Cunningham on Happy Days (both shows received their start through the groundbreaking Love, American Style), few actors have been able to play the exasperated television dad as well as Bosley, even with the weak dialogue, and he handles it in a manner that fathers everywhere can understand. Like Hank Hill, Harry Boyle is on the conservative side of middle-of-the-road. He is constantly flummoxed by his children's liberal, modern ways, but he doesn't agree with Ralph's jingoism, either.

And there were also several episodes that tackled difficult topics very well, most notably when Chet gets drafted. Done without the laugh track, the show dealt with Chet contemplating desertion in a manner that was very sensitive to the many families that were going through the same situation.

But for all its admirable qualities, Wait Till Your Father Gets Home pales in comparison to the other groundbreaking topical shows of its day, like All In The Family and The Mary Tyler Moore Show because the humor lacks the bite, referring to gloss over the issues rather than attacking them head-on. The four-disc set contains all 24 episodes of the first season, as well as two features, one explaining how the show reflected the turbulent times, and another about the history of the show and the reason for the sparse animation style.