FinermanWorks

 ‘Law and Order’ Is Over: Last Episode Tonight

 Narrator: In the criminal justice system, television exploits two separate yet equally important sources: what’s in   The New York Post and what’s taught in the scriptwriting class at Yale. 

Pizza deliveryman:  Ya know, I once delivered to Julian Schnabel.  Pepperoni and black olive.

Doorman:  I bet Marcel Proust woulda ordered in a lot, too.

Pizza deliveryman:  Ya, but reclusive invalids are lousy tippers. 

s.d.  Walking to the elevator, the pizza guy pushes the button. The elevator door opens, revealing the body of “Law and Order” producer Dick Wolfe.

Smarmy young cop wishing he were Jerry Orbach (as do we all) surveys the crime:  80 stab wounds.  Usually, ten is enough to  get you cancelled.  

Exhausted, depressed Lieutenant now fearing her next job will be doing August Wilson plays at Dinner Theaters: He needed just one more season to break the record.  Yes, he was running out of crimes.  We did Leopold and Loeb six times, but we usually cast different actors.  Follow the leads.

Smarmy young cop confronts elderly man at shuffleboard match:  So you were worried that Dick Wolfe was going to break your record. 

Eighty-seven year old James Arness beats up Jeremy Sisto.  (Feel free to applaud.)

Lieutenant visits young smarmy in hospital:  Jack Kevorkian is on You-Tube bragging that he killed Dick Wolfe.

Sam Waterston, in between doing commercials as the upscale Billy Mays, confronts Dr. Kevorkian:  So you are going to claim that this was a mercy killing.

Kevorkian:  For the audience.

From the archives:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2008/07/17/eugenes-lunchtime-theater/

And let’s not forgive the historic significance of this day:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2009/05/24/the-art-of-saving-souls-2/

Among Eastern Orthodox Christians, it is a custom to keep a votive candle always lit next to the family’s household icon. We Americans have a similar devotion of keeping the television perpetually on. As a child of my times, I couldn’t be expected to eat lunch at home without the accompaniment of the TV. And I can justify my habit by the cultural tutorial I gain.

At least, I am catching up on series that didn’t really interest me in the first place. For instance, by now I have seen every episode of “Crossing Jordan”, the adventures of a crime-solving, sexy coroner. (But aren’t they all?) Of course, after I have watched about five episodes, I had a pretty good idea what every show would be like. It seems our heroine–Jordan– has an unfortunate tendency to wake up drunk next to a corpse and there is always incriminating evidence against her. (The severed head in one hand and the bloody axe in the other could give people the wrong impression.) She then will spend the rest of the episode proving her innocence.

After a five-year run, “Crossing Jordan” was cancelled by NBC. I am surprised that the History Channel did not pick up the show. Think of all the historical murders that our heroine could solve. “Jordan wakes up in a car in Sarajevo. Next to her are the bullet-riddled corpses of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and the Archduchess Sophie; and our heroine is holding the murder weapon. Can she solve the crime before Austria-Hungary and Germany declare war on her?”

Of late, my lunchtime viewing is “Law and Order.” First, how can I avoid a series that been on the air for 230 years and has 98 spin-offs? But the show has a titillating appeal–its “ripped from the headlines” plots. The writers glean the news for names and storylines, and blends them into a sensational recipe–and two months later, there is an episode where Ben Bernanke kills Heath Ledger over incriminating photos of France’s First Lady Carla Bruni. So, two New York detectives have to first talk their way into the French Consul by claiming to be bidet salesmen. After beating a French attache into a confession, they then learn their mistake and that Bernanke was seen murdering Ledger. (Jerry Orbach apologizes to the semiconscious Frenchman by doing a Maurice Chevalier imitation.) And that is just the first 30 minutes. Then, you get to see amazing and horrifying machinations of lawyers. For example, 40 witnesses saw Bernanke strangle Ledger; but Bernanke’s lawyer suppresses their testimony on the grounds that they were violating Mr. Bernanke’s privacy. Although the murder indictment is throw out, the District Attorney manages to convict Bernanke of using the Federal Reserve Board as a front for a porn ring.

And if that particular episode had good ratings, Dick Wolf would plan a new series where Ben Bernanke kills another celebrity each week.

Musing:
It is Jesse Helms’ first day in Hell. I hope that he was forced to watch Venus and Serena Williams compete at Wimbleton. Better yet, I hope that Helms’s head was transmuted into the tennis ball.

Reflection:
Yesterday, one television network honored our Independence Day by broadcasting a “Law and Order” marathon. Well, the series did premiere in 1776. The first season’s cast had David Garrick, Sarah Siddons, Colley Cibber and–of course–Steven Hill.

Trauma:
I just survived another encounter with corporate reality. Despite my refusal to run up any debts to enrich its usurious soul, my bank has extended my Visa card for another few years. However, in order to activate my new card, I first had to call “customer service.” The voice answering my call identified himself as “Hubert.” R…E…A…L…L…Y! He certainly didn’t sound like a Hubert; of course, he could have been named for someone his great-great-grandfather killed in the Sepoy Rebellion. Unlike him, I had some credibility in my identity and was able to prove that I was Eugene.

Yet, before my card could be activated, Hubert first had to tell me about all sorts of wonderful programs and benefits that the bank wanted me to have. Furthermore, none of these proffered gifts would cost me a cent….except for a minor details that were equally unintelligible in English and Hindi. But Hubert was going to sign me up unless I repeatedly said, “No.” Which I did, insistently–because he did not choose to believe me the first few times. Whether surprised or offended by my refusal, Hubert ventured, “May I ask why?”

Of course, I did not have to give him my reason–but when have I ever been reticent? I told him, “The bank is not a philanthropy. It is simply looking for any opportunity to charge me fees and interest. Well, I am not a philanthropy either, and I will not give away my money for bank services that I don’t want.”

I think that Hubert finally accepted my answer. But I will carefully check my next bank statement.