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Monday, January 13, 2003

Some things never get any better than the premise. My colleague Dennis Roddy, for instance, has this idea to put "Shop Downtown" fliers on the windshields of the parked cars that are ticketed outside the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette building every weekday.

Whether Roddy ever gets around to pursuing this dream is beside the point. I can so easily envision the outraged motorists, clutching the shopping fliers and parking tickets like they were the last straws lifted from a commuting camel's broken back, that I don't need the real thing. When the concept is this inspired, the execution is bound to be a letdown.

This is sort of the way I feel about much of pop culture these days. That feeling began, as best I can recall, back in the late 1980s when I heard on my car radio that Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito were going to play twins in a movie together. I just about drove off the Parkway East.

Then I saw the movie, "Twins," which was about as funny as a property assessment. From that moment on, I have mostly steered clear of the high-concept Hollywood offering. But I still give kudos to the premises.

For instance, whoever came up with the title to the sequel of "Dude, Where's My Car?" should get the rest of his life off with pay. I didn't see the original movie, and I'll stick to that plan when the new movie comes out next year, but the sequel's title -- "Seriously, Dude, Where's My Car?" -- deserves an Oscar.

Television reality shows are great for this. I don't watch them, but I'm in awe of the way they sink lower than whale dung trying to outdo one another. The guy who's not really a millionaire but who has 20 gorgeous women falling all over him thinking he is -- that's a great way to humiliate just about everyone involved. Whoever came up with "Joe Millionaire" deserves a $100 bonus.

But my favorite among the new reality concepts is the WB's "The Surreal Life." It throws seven washed-up celebrities in a house together for 10 days. Why? No reason other than to throw seven washed-up celebrities in a house together.

I was sorting socks Thursday night so I missed it, but I understand the show features a former Playboy playmate, a "Survivor" outcast, a "Beverly Hills 90210" refugee, that kid from "Webster" who's no longer a kid, the lead actor from "Meatballs 4," the lead singer of the hair-metal band Motley Crue and MC Hammer.

It's the Murderer's Row of Mediocrity, or would be but for one thing: The batteries in Danny Bonaduce's cell phone must be dead. How'd they miss him?

Anyway, I'm told the house of has-beens is not behaving well, so the producers must be happy enough. What I would like now is to take these mix-and-match premises a step further and move them into the arena where TV once shined, the sitcom. Why not throw together characters from various sitcoms and see what happens? Surely, we have the technology to make this happen.

I envision "Poker Night" featuring Sgt. Ernie Bilko from "The Phil Silvers Show," Oscar Madison from "The Odd Couple," Louis DePalma from "Taxi," Fred Flintstone from "The Flintstones" and Cyril Wecht from "Geraldo."

I see Ralph Kramden throwing Kramer from "Seinfeld" off a New York City bus.

I see Archie Bunker taking his daughter Gloria to her new obstetrician, Dr. Heathcliff Huxtable of "The Cosby Show."

I see Gilligan, The Skipper, The Professor, Ginger, Mary Ann, Thurston and Lovey Howell stealing the "Survivor" seaplane and going home.

I see a columnist whose premise for a Monday column was better than its execution, but you should have known that going in.