For over 40 years people, upon hearing that I write-produce TV shows, have always – and I mean always, felt obligated to ask the not-very-musical question, “Why is television so bad?”
I hate this question for any number of reasons, starting with the fact that not only does it assume that the shows on TV are bad but also that I agree with that assumption. Which, for the record, I don’t.
Today, however, a Medieval Bestiary website I accidentally came across gave me an answer that I’ll be proud to reply with the next time the question is asked. My reply will be bullshit, of course, because I still don’t buy the negative assumption, but, hey, bullshitting is just another word for “writing fiction” anyway, and I think I’ve earned the right to live as well as work and think like a fiction writer by now.
So, speaking of bullshit, here’s my answer to “Why is television so bad?”
“Bonnacon.”
As in, per Bestiary.Ca, “The bonnacon is a beast with a head like a bull, but with horns that curl in towards each other. Because these horns are useless for defense, the bonnacon has another weapon. When pursued, the beast expels its dung which travels a great distance (as much as two acres), and burns anything it touches.”
That’s right, little doods. TV is constantly blasting out crap because the television industry is one gigantic bonnacon, and all that shit is our very bestest defense against those who love destroying creative people’s dreams.
Onward now to the next Most Frequently Asked Question: How do I get an agent?”
I’m thinking “Bonnacon” might work for that one too.
You think your TV is bad. I still gotta BLACK&WHITE! Now I know what you were thinking when you sat in front of my desk staring into space. “What th’ fuck’s he talkin’ about? And what’Z-a “BARNABY JONES” anyway?! I gotta get a real job!”
Nope, never in my life thought about getting a real job. Never sat in front of your desk either, come to think about it. All the meetings I went to were in Phil Saltzman’s office, with you in a chair beside his desk and me on the couch across the room waiting for Sandy Stockwell to come in.
LYMI,
LB
HAH! You remember! But I did have a desk, only it was made out of an orange crate, and it was in my little office right in front of the little window, and had a little lamp sitting on top of the little desk! Even my phone was little! Looked like something you’d buy at a 5 & 10, and it worked about the same. And, damn, I remember you always aimed your chair at Saltzman, and you never looked at me. A two hour meeting, and never once did you look at me! You didn’t even say “goodbye” when you left! Not even a nod! Woulda simple “bye’ had killed-cha?! Well, Mr. Big-Shot, I happened to recenly sell a feature film, 6 figures, and you’d probably know the producer, but I’m not tellin’ because you’d probably be all over him tellin’ bad things about me like that time I once…. Ahhhh, fogedddabout it! gs
Um, who are you again?
LYMI,
LB