Not re-runs of newer shows…I’m talking old shows like, The Brady Bunch, and others.
As I am now older, I have kind of a different perspective on some of the TV shows that I watched while growing up and now air on TV Land and elsewhere.
For instance, take the aforementioned, The Brady Bunch.
I would watch it on Friday nights while eating Mikesell’s Sour Cream and Onion potato chips and sipping on some Faygo Red Pop when I was eight years old or so. I thought it was mildly amusing, and I was somewhat envious of the Bradys.
I thought the Brady house was way cool. I was envious that they had a maid who cooked dinners of spaghetti AND steak.
I thought the Brady house was way cool. I was envious that they had a maid who cooked dinners of spaghetti AND steak.
They went on great vacations to the Grand Canyon, Hawaii, Kings Island, and Mr. Phillips’ big boat.
As our family was at best, middle class, I was soooo digging the opulent Brady lifestyle.
As our family was at best, middle class, I was soooo digging the opulent Brady lifestyle.
I would watch in order to see what type of hilarity would ensue when those wacky, well-to-do Bradys got together. Good times…good times.
The other night when I caught an episode of the show while puffing on a Basic Full Flavor and sipping on some Wild Irish Rose at the age of 44...I discovered something that never struck me when I watched it at the age of eight.
Mike Brady was a major league asshole…and most of all, a fucking cheapskate.
Mike Brady was allegedly some architectural guru living in the L.A. area who was always in demand for his keen designs. If that was the case, I’m sure he had money out the ass.
So, how come his six kids had to squeeze themselves to sleep within two tiny bedrooms while he and Carol slept in a huge ass boudoir that they never used…’cause, well, he was gay and all?
Hell, Mr. Brady treated his maid, Alice, better than his kids…at least she had her own bedroom. Why?
The other night when I caught an episode of the show while puffing on a Basic Full Flavor and sipping on some Wild Irish Rose at the age of 44...I discovered something that never struck me when I watched it at the age of eight.
Mike Brady was a major league asshole…and most of all, a fucking cheapskate.
Mike Brady was allegedly some architectural guru living in the L.A. area who was always in demand for his keen designs. If that was the case, I’m sure he had money out the ass.So, how come his six kids had to squeeze themselves to sleep within two tiny bedrooms while he and Carol slept in a huge ass boudoir that they never used…’cause, well, he was gay and all?
Hell, Mr. Brady treated his maid, Alice, better than his kids…at least she had her own bedroom. Why?
Because Alice cooked and cleaned for Mr. Twinkle Toes…and I’m guessin’ that Sam the Butcher slid Mike some free meat once in awhile as well.
Even with his huge ass family and all of his cash, the tight assed jerk would only spring for one car. For awhile, the miserly prick had a pay phone installed in his house and made the kids use that.
“But Matt-Man,” you ask. “What about all of those great vacations that he took them on? That had to set him back more than a few dollars.”
If I remember correctly…The boat, King’s Island, and the trip to Hawaii were on his boss’ dime. He didn’t spend any of his own cash, the rotten bastard.
Oh sure, there’s the trip to the Grand Canyon for which he footed the bill, and what happened on that trip?
The kids got stuffed into tents rather than a lodge, and Bobby and Cindy were left alone to wander away and nearly die in the stifling Arizona heat.
Some dad Mike Brady was...
Even with his huge ass family and all of his cash, the tight assed jerk would only spring for one car. For awhile, the miserly prick had a pay phone installed in his house and made the kids use that.
“But Matt-Man,” you ask. “What about all of those great vacations that he took them on? That had to set him back more than a few dollars.”
If I remember correctly…The boat, King’s Island, and the trip to Hawaii were on his boss’ dime. He didn’t spend any of his own cash, the rotten bastard.
Oh sure, there’s the trip to the Grand Canyon for which he footed the bill, and what happened on that trip?
The kids got stuffed into tents rather than a lodge, and Bobby and Cindy were left alone to wander away and nearly die in the stifling Arizona heat.
Some dad Mike Brady was...He was probably stashing all his cash away so he could go to Sweden, have a sex change, and come back home to have hot sex with Mr. Phillips on that swanky boat.
Mike Brady was a cheap, selfish bastard, a lousy father, and I hate him.
As for me? I am taking my son fishing this morning, and guess what? I'm going to spring for the nightcrawlers.
Cheers!!
Cheers!!
