You know who I mean: the one who kept "Bonanza", "I Love Lucy", "Star Trek", "The Honeymooners" and every other show ever released on videotape. He
was obviously organizationally challenged because over the years he's lost so many episodes that a whole industry has been created around selling them. I know you've seen those ads -- "Ed Sullivan -- The Lost Episodes!".
They're so plentiful it leads me to question just how this guy managed to lose them. Did he cram them in a closet full of raincoats and old jackets? Did he throw them in a plastic storage container and shove them under the bed? Or
perhaps he stuffed them in the attic with the Christmas tree and broken lamps? Were they collecting dust on shelves in the garage behind old Nixon-Agnew campaign signs? Or were they, like my elusive car keys, sitting innocent and
obvious in the open, mocking him everytime he tore the house apart in yet another fruitless search?
Even more mysterious is why Hollywood kept allowing this turkey to hold on to all those episodes. Considering his track
record, it makes absolutely no sense. I mean, would you put your money in a bank that keeps losing it? (Of course, this lesson doesn't always take. No matter how many pieces of mail go astray, I keep dropping letters in the
mailbox, so maybe I don't always follow my own advice....)
And as for the episode guy, it appears he's still hard at it. The other day I heard where they'd found yet another set of lost episodes, "Howdy Doody", to be
precise. The amazing thing about this "find" isn't that someone lost them, it's that anyone would bother looking for them in the first place.
I wasn't a Howdy Doody kid myself. I teethed on Captain Kangeroo. It was a
sweet-tempered and predictable little show. Face it guys, Bunny Rabbit was a pretty savvy cottontail and so he always got the carrot. But that was it's charm, too. Kids love repetition and there was plenty of that in the old
Captain and Mr. Green Jeans.
In fact, now that I think about it, I learned a lot of life's lessons by watching television. Never mind kindergarten, the really important stuff came from that glowing box. Like, never marry a
Cartwright (their brides always expired within an hour, unless it was a two-parter, then she was carried over until the next week); never commit a murder within 500 miles of Perry Mason or you'll spill your guts in a courtoom
before the commercial's on; and never shoot the good guy, because he doesn't die. Besides, no matter where you shoot him he's going to end up with his arm in a sling. It's true -- Starsky or Hutch gets it in the leg and poof -- the
next thing you know he's climbing out of his car with his arm in a sling. I don't know who's the most confused -- the viewers or the doctors who keep patching up television heros!
But I digress, I think. Hey, what was this
column supposed to about anyway? I vaguely remember talking about something being lost. Uh, oh. Bet I've lost those blasted car keys again. I think I'll just quit right here and go look for them. For the life of me, I can't
understand who keeps walking off with my keys....
