Dancing Pancakes and Duck Soup

Aside from Justine's request to hit Hooters for wings in her ninth month of pregnancy, to which Rev Run replied, "I think, thou shalt not go to Hooters as a priest," the only other comical moment in tonight's premiere of Run's House was Jojo's recounting of Run's having once dreamed about dancing pancakes in cowboy boots.

"Did you want pancakes or something?" Angela shouted out, laughing. It was hard not to laugh along with her even though I had been sobbing moments earlier.

By now, any of us who follow Joseph, Justine, Vanessa, Jojo, Angela, Diggy, and Russy Simmons know about the sad passing of their baby, Victoria Anne Simmons, who died on the day of her birth in September. Most of us probably saw clips of tonight's episode on Oprah last week. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I cried my eyes out watching then and gave a repeat performance this evening. With an encore.

But Rev Run doesn't want our pity. He respects and appreciates our sympathies and condolences, but would prefer to move on, to be grateful for everything he has, to live the happy life he has cultivated with his family. He would like Russy to continue to roll around on his Heelys and Diggy to keep skating.

About thirty minutes prior to tonight's premiere, I had just watched a TIVOed episode of last season's finale. Sap and sucker that I am, I cried as Rev decided to let his girls go and expressed his great excitement over the new life that would be joining the family nine months later. I'd been looking forward to seeing new episodes of Run's House for weeks, but I was worried that I wasn't going to make it through a season of Justine's pregnancy and anticipation for the baby's arrival, knowing what was to come.

But learning from Rev's example (and his Oprah interview, of course!), I already knew he didn't want to linger in grief. As he told Russy, "Don't let other people take us out of our joyful life." So if that was Rev's request, I was going to do my best to enjoy Run's House as much as ever so that I wasn't one of those other people. If the Rev had the faith and strength with which to find utter joy in the face of abject sorrow, then the least I could do was watch his show without wallowing in my own neurotic anxieties.

The other day, Stu and I were listening to Al Green. When Jesus is Waiting came on, I shouted out, "Ooh! My favorite!" It really is my favorite Al Green song. Swear.

Stu asked, "What is it with you and African American preachers?"

I do seem to have a bit of a thing.

I don't know what it is. I think it's that when you spend the majority of your days and nights like a female version of Woody Allen's character in Hannah and Her Sisters, constantly battling an existential crisis over the impossibility of figuring out the meaning of life and being nauseated by the being and nothingness of it all, it's hard not to be attracted to the likes of Al and Rev who live with so much joy. Their faith seems to be the link, so maybe I'm drawn to them because I feel like they'll give me the one thing I'm missing (just like Woody Allen attempting to convert to Christianity!). Hey, for all I know, maybe Jesus is waiting (but don't tell my mom cuz she might still be worried about that Jews for Jesus thing). Probably not for me, what with the Jewish thing and all, but still, the faith in something, anything, seems nice. It seems exuberant. It seems just like what Woody Allen's character found in a movie theater watching the Marx Brothers. And I could definitely have faith in that.

Duck Soup or dancing pancakes, anyone? Or maybe just Hooters. For the wings.

Praise the Lord and Pass the Afikoman*

Rev Run and family in the church of Oprah

Happy Passover, everyone!!

Due to my mother's comings and goings, as well as the flaming pit of hellfire and damnation that my life will be for the next month (Actually, the next three months, but I'd like to keep my sleep medication to over-the-counter strength so I'm attempting to take it one month at a time.), I was unable to attend the seder I had been invited to, which is too bad cuz I'm really good at that part where you stick your pinkie in your wine ten times and drip the Manischewitz on to your plate to represent the ten plagues. I have been known to flick the cough syrup...er, wine...at whomever is seated next to me, for which I have been reprimanded on several occasions. What can I say? Seders are long. I gotta keep myself entertained.

But since tonight I am not seated at a table full of hungry Jews (I told you, seders are long), what better way to celebrate my peeps' exodus from ancient Egypt than to watch a TIVOed Oprah interview with my beloved Rev Run and family? Oprah is nothing if not god-like and Rev Run, well, I think you know of my unwavering faith in the Rev. So really, the evening was very religious for me.

Actually, although my mother's schedule prohibited my eating gefilte fish this evening, which is too bad because I could inhale the stuff, it was my mother who informed me of Rev's appearance on today's Oprah. She had never heard of him before Saturday, when I spent a large portion of our dinner time reciting just about everything I'd ever heard in every episode of Run's House that I'd ever seen. She actually seemed fairly amused, considering she had no idea who he was (She's almost seventy and as uber hip and cool as she is, Run DMC has never been on her radar. She totally knows about Justin Timberlake though. She likes to remind me that Alpha Dog got crappy reviews. Fair enough.). Then, yesterday, she saw a commercial for today's Oprah, on which, lo and behold, Rev was to be interviewed with his brood. There's a name for that phenomenon--you know, when you've never heard of something and then once you know about it, it seemingly pops up everywhere, which makes a lot of sense in this case since the new season of Run's House premieres next Monday. Amen and Hallelujah!

Before I sat down to watch Oprah, I had decided that I wanted tonight's writing to be about inspiration. It's an important holiday and with this weekend's Work Out post having been a bit of a downer because I was in a bit of a funk (absolute melt down and freak out is more like it), I felt like I needed to turn things around. I'd worked myself into a frenzy of panic every night for the past few nights (hence the over-the-counter sleep aids) and the only thing that calmed me down was watching episodes of Run's House. But by the time the TV was off and the lights were out, my brain was a frenetic mess all over again.

So tonight, on this holy night, I looked to Rev Run for help again.

One of the first questions Oprah asked was why Rev wanted to allow cameras in his home. He said that he wanted to show people his family's life "to lead by example and to inspire." Bingo!

I often ask myself why I can't seem to get enough of Run's House. Of course, I love the family antics because they make me laugh out loud, and yes, I love Rev and Russell Simmons because their drive and ambition are awesome, and yes, I love how much everyone seems to love each other, but what's odd is that I'm generally turned off by practiced religion (probably the cause of the wine flicking), to which the Rev is so wholly devoted. And certainly Christianity isn't quite my thing (Although, as a teen I had a bizarre Jesus obsession and my mother was quite certain I would horrifyingly become a Jew for Jesus.), but there is something about how Rev uses religion to devote himself to creating and living the life he wants with commitment and compassion, laughter and love, and pragmatism and practicality, that is riveting and downright addicting.

There is something about watching this family's every move that does set an example and is inspiring. Watching Run's House makes me want to live the best life I possibly can. And if that's not religion, I don't know what is.


*Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition
Afikoman


And P.S., how psyched am I to learn that I too can be on Rev Run's email list for daily words of wisdom AND that there's a book?!

And P.P.S., speaking of inspiration, this was quite a night for it. To what am I referring, you might ask? I can answer that in three words: ONE SHINING MOMENT. Talk about Triumph of the Human Spirit! I wait every year for the end of March to roll around just so I can watch this montage. I don't even watch college basketball. It's all about the montage of victory, defeat, sweat, tears, joy, sorrow...yeah, yeah, yeah, I also go nuts for stadium anthems at any sporting event, especially that Gary Glitter song. Cuz that's how I roll.

What Goes Around Comes Back Dead

In 1980 I was ten years old. It was the birth year of MTV and I began my adolescence when it began its toddlerhood. It formed my formative years. I wanted my MTV and got it. Sometimes, I still get it. Despite my advanced years, I still skip on up to MTV just to check it out, just to keep up with, of course, the dance music (you know how I love "the dance"), and just to see what's up with those crazy kids these days. Largely I just end up getting roped into one of those True Life or Made shows. Amazingly I've yet to succumb to The Hills or Laguna Beach, but I have been known to sit through an episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen, which always makes me thankful that I've decided not to reproduce. And let's not forget the fact that I watched the first ten seasons of The Real World. By MTV's standards, I'm so old that one of my college suite mates was asked to be on the first season when we were seniors. Actually, we're so old that she was a Club MTV dancer--before Julie Brown wubba, wubba, wubbaed as the host.

But sometimes, lo and behold, I get to see a video.

I'd been waiting for Justin Timberlake's What Goes Around Comes Around video for several weeks. Not only did I read about Scarlett Johansson's starring role and was most curious to see how that would play out, but also, put plainly and simply and unequivocally proudly, I am a ginormungous JT fan. And I don't mean just because he brought Sexy Back. I mean because he was Justified (I thank the Girl from Hickopolis for buying the cd for my birthday that year, against her wishes at the time. She's since come around to the wonder that is JT.). I suppose I should be able to say that I've been with him since he was 'N Sync with the teeny boppers, but I wasn't doing much bopping in my mid-late twenties. However, if during those years I had been forced to identify the cutest member of a boy band, I knew enough to know his name and pick his blond fro out of a line up. But ever since the Mouseketeer grew up, got duped by Britney, and cried a river, I've been there. Oddly though, my passion for JT is not like the desire I have for anyone on my "list" (Clive Owen, Sean Bean, Johnny Depp, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Matt Damon). There's just something I like about the entire JT thing. I like the whole of him: the music, the image, and it goes without saying, the dancing. Of course, always, the dancing.

I had purchased Future Sex/Love Sounds (I still don't know what the hell that's supposed to mean) the day it was released, and like everyone else, immediately went right for the melodic What Goes Around, yet another Brit dis, which gives one pause as to why JT still feels the need to have another song that laments his being cheated on since he already wrote an album full of bitterness on the last go round. Clearly he's still working through something and perhaps there is more to the the Diaz debacle than Justin's needing to be free to be with Scarlett and Jessica Biel. But no matter. I love the song and couldn't wait to see what was sure to be its sultry visual rendering if the advanced shots of Scarlett in her lusty attire were any indicator.

I've finally managed to catch the video twice now and after two viewings, even though I graduated cum laude from a fine institution, I'm still not quite sure what (open air quotes) "message" (close air quotes) JT is attempting to convey.

The song section of the video shows Justin singing in some high end, upscale 1930s circus scenario. Actually, there's nothing circus-like about it except that there are women in clown-like unitards, dancing with flaming hoola hoops. It's nuanced, and yet, not nuanced at all. What goes aROUND comes back aROUND. Hoola hoops are ROUND. Is this song not about a cycle, a circle, the circle of love, life, fidelity, infidelity, and ultimately death, the end of all cycles and/or circles? We shall see...

As for the narrative of the video, the first verse establishes that JT and Scarlett are hot and heavy (as well as living in some decade that is suffering from an identity crisis between the present and the 1930s in which Justin is continually performing). But perhaps, Scarlett is a bit-- unbeknownst to JT--unstable. As she drowns in a pool, apparently deceased, JT rushes into the water to save her only to find that it's a joke. Scarlett bursts through the water's surface, assuming she has been delightfully amusing by playing dead. Not so much for Justin. He is not amused in the least, but his anger is short-lived because of course, when someone tries to mash her lips against yours while you're attempting to yell at her for giving you a coronary because you thought she had lost her life in an untimely and tragic drowning, making out will immediately quell your fears. Hot sex with a psychotic can be very distracting.

In the following verse, Justin is out with a male friend at a club when Scarlett approaches. She kisses Justin passionately and greets the friend. The chemistry between Scarlett and JT's pal is palpable! Scarlett's vampish stares kinda give it away as well. More singing and threesome chatting ensue until we cut to Scarlett in a make out session in a stairway with...NOT JUSTIN! Is it...is it...why yes, it is none other than Justin's buddy!

Justin casually enters this stairway, which seems odd as it looks like some strange warehouse stairway that no one would ever casually enter because I don't think it actually leads anywhere. But enter nonchalantly JT does, and naturally, stumbles upon his unfaithful girlfriend and apparently not-all-that-good-of-a-friend friend. Justin is rightfully livid and begins to pummel his amigo. Scarlett tries to put a stop to the violence but gets palmed in the face like a basketball during March Madness (so appropriate or perhaps Freudian as Stu is downstairs watching the Tennessee/Ohio State game right now). She is upset and dashes out of the stairwell, out of the building, and into to her sports car. And I can't tell what decade that thing is supposed to come from either. Justin runs after her and speeds off behind her in his own timeless sports vehicle.

The roads are dark. The cars are moving too fast. The drivers are reckless with heightened emotion. If memory serves, Scarlett crashes into a car that had previously crashed and is now in flames--and one might have thought Scarlett could have seen that from a mile away. Well, as Bill Murray says to the squirrel in Groundhog Day, "Don't drive angry!" In slow motion, Scarlett's car is air born and tumbling through sky, Justin looking on in terror.

We then come to the vocal breakdown wherein Justin sings/talks of "paint[ing] a picture" of a cheating KFed for Brit. When the brief monologue is over and the song draws to a close, we see that Scarlett is dead on the road. Unlike her earlier play at drowning, she does not revive herself, and oddly enough, despite what looks like a particularly horrific car crash from which she was thrown through the windshield, she lays with her perfectly alabaster skin sans a single scratch (where were last week's Top Model make up artists?), which leads me to the following conclusions about the video's intentions and message:

If you scare the crap outta your boyfriend by pretending to drown in a pool and then he catches you cheating with someone he introduced you to, you'll probably get into a flaming car wreck and end up dead for real.

So even though the song is about Britney's screwing with Justin romantically, we're really bypassing the issue of infidelity and taking on mortality. Don't mess with the gods. If they see you play dead, you might actually end up dead. What goes around really does come around!

There's No Place Like Run's House

Today I turn thirty-seven (Happy Birthday to me!). Am I too old to petition for Rev Run to adopt me? I'm fairly photogenic--it's not like I'd muck up the family portrait. Sure, I'm a pasty, white, Jewish girl, but it could be like Diff'rent Strokes, new-millennium style (I'd even consider converting! It's not like I was ever bat mitzvahed...).

About three months ago, I was, as usual, on my ass watching TV. It was a Friday night and Stu was out and I was home alone when I stumbled upon my first episode of Run's House. MTV was running a mini-marathon (Is there anything better than the mini-marathon? They turn shows into Lays potato chips. You can never watch just one.) and at first I rolled my eyes, exasperated by another show jumping on the bandwagon of family reality programming. But I quickly realized this was the best family show EVER. It even made me reconsider my life long dream of being a Brady. I kid you not.

That night I watched about six episodes in a row and spent the next week asking everyone I knew if they'd seen this masterpiece. Not a single soul had been to Run's House. Every time I turned on the television, I desperately searched for an airing. I checked the TIVO for upcoming episodes. Nothing. No one had seen it and it was apparently never to be seen again. The heaven of the Rev's house seemed to exist only in my imagination.

But then today, of all days, my birthday, on which I have been quite ill, bedridden since Friday night, so I gotta tell ya it hasn't been the best birthday weekend, the Rev returned to me! Yes, they were all back on my screen: Rev Run, Justine, Vanessa, Angela, JoJo, Diggie and Russy. And it wasn't just one episode. No, the programming gods smiled down upon me and for my birthday they gave me FIVE HOURS of Run's House as the most glorious present ever. Clear out the pool house, Simmonses (which they did in one episode, The Rev demanding that Justine ditch all of her saved issues of Oprah Magazine, insisting that she didn't need to keep them since the same photo appeared on the cover of each one), I'm moving in!

In one of the thousand episodes I watched today, Angela begins an internship at Baby Phat (owned by her aunt, Kimora Lee Simmons, causing Vanessa to earnestly shout out, "hey, nepotism is alive and well!"). She has a rough first day, as all interns do, and when she returns to her lush suburban home, dad senses her disappointment. He says to her, "If that were me, I would have outworked every intern there. I would have walked in an intern and walked out the owner."

Yes, he would have. And come to think of it, so would have my father. Whenever my dad dropped me off at school, he used to say, "knock 'em dead and give 'em hell!" It was his battle cry and he gave a lot of hell to a lot of people. Clearly, so does Rev Run. Perhaps that's why I want to be his adoptive daughter. Not only would I get the much-missed motivational nudge I used to get from my father, but more than that, The Rev would probably fill the spiritual void I have in my life due to the lack of a religious upbringing. I told you I was never batmitzvahed, and MAN, I am a sucker for the Blackberry mini-sermons The Rev gives from his bubble bath every morning. If you've never seen the show and have no idea what I'm talking about, well, you've got to see it to believe it and to be moved to live the most fulfilling life you possibly can cuz that's what the Rev's preaching and I am in the front row of the choir!

And, with all the rap and hip-hop, can you imagine how much dancing I would do? My dad could cut a rug, but he never quite made it past the bossa nova.

Rev, get the lawyers and the adoption papers ready! I'm coming home...to RUN'S HOUSE!