No Kardashians in Mayberry

There’s nothing on television.

I have approximately 7000 channels, a couple of streaming services and I can’t find a dang thing to watch.  I had better luck when I was growing up with three network stations.

Click. Click. Click.

There is a show called “The Masked Singer” where C list celebrities wear bizarre animal heads disguises and audience members have to try to guess their real identity.  Yep.  Read that sentence again out loud.  Think Ed Sullivan meets Lewis Carrol.

Click. Click. Click.

Here are the Kardashians, or this generation’s version of the Gabor sisters.  I don’t say this about most humans, but they have no discernible redeeming qualities.  In fact, I am not sure if they are even actually human.  The dialogue goes nearly verbatim  like this:

Vacant Kardashian 1:  “I think I’m totally wearing blue to the party tonight,”

Vacant Kardashian 2:  “Blue makes me sad.”

Dear Lord.

Click. Click. Click.

I do a quick tour of the news channels.  On one, they are having a screaming match and calling each other racists, baby killers, sidewinders, and cheats.  On another, they are telling everyone that humanity may not last another week and that the stock market is now worth the equivalent of Monopoly money.  We are doomed.

Click. Click. Click.

There is a newsmagazine whose entire hour is about “the murderer next door.”  Apparently, there is a high likelihood my neighbors are dressing as clowns and planning our demise.

Click. Click. Click.

PBS is showing NOVA, and the entire episode is documenting the rotation of the earth.  In real time.

Click. Click. Click.

Fake cooking shows.  Naked Survivor.  NCIS Chattanooga (I think).

Sigh.

I have little patience left.  I’m about to shut the whole thing off and go order unnecessary things from Amazon when I mindlessly flip to the next channel...and then I hear it.

The whistling.

There they are.  Andy and Opie, fishing rods in hand, walking to the old fishing hole.  The announcer cheerily exclaims, “The Andy Griffith Show!  Starring...Andy Griffith!”

Balm for the soul.  

I’ve seen every single episode.  Multiple times.  That’s ok.  This one is the episode about Barney being the worst singer in the town choir.  It’s still a hoot.  It’s like having a warm blanket on a cold night.  Floyd’s Barber Shop is still open and I could go for a pork chop sandwich at The Snappy Lunch.

Tomorrow, life will get back to whatever the heck normal is these days.  Tonight, I’m hanging out in Mayberry for a few hours.

We’re gonna have a good time because The Fun Girls and The Darlings are coming over.