God Bless The Simpsons!

I know, it isn't exactly in fashion anymore.

The Simpsons. Television's single greatest achievement is about to start up again for season number, drum roll please...21! Over the years, many things may have changed in my life and yours, but this Sunday ritual has stayed, for me at least, remarkably in tact and worthwhile. I can watch a Simpsons anywhere anytime. And, though I admit, there are rare occasions when I'm just not into seeing the episode I've seen about ten thousand times a ten thousand and first, I'll usually stop for a little while to experience an old moment anew and give it some form of love or another. I can't help it.

I can tell you the episode from a single word spoken and a whole nother room in the house. I'm not bragging. Indeed, many people probably think that's excessive but I'm gratefully not one of them. In fact, on the day this show doesn't rouse a reaction, I just may walk away from the planet.

One hundred years from now, (yes I still plan on being here), I have no doubt whatsoever I will still delight in catching an old episode I haven't seen in awhile, (guess by then they'll all be old -- very, very old), but still funny. Maybe even funnier with all that space and time in between. The Simpsons, like fine wine and good, quality women, can only get better with age.

No matter what mood I'm in, I can always count on Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa and Maggie, (and the rest - yes, even you, Armin Tamzarian), to pull me out of my funk, if only for that brief 22 minute interval and remind me there is still some semblence of sanity in the world; still someone out there who understands the absurdity of what passes for life in this wacky neck of the cosmos and dares to revel in its majestic lack of coherence. The hypocracy of so-called authority, the silliness and downright insanity of this culture of infants that can't seem to grasp its own infancy. Ok, enough analysis. I'd much rather be laughing.

Pretenders to the throne, there are many. (I'm looking at you Seth McFarlane). And, though I enjoy a good South Park, (or even a bad one. I could write a whole post about you guys as well, and just might one of these days), King of The Hill, and indeed, many others, you all owe a massive debt of gratitude to the grandaddy of them all. The Flintstones - I mean, The Simpsons, sorry.

Where will I be this Sunday at 8?
Hard to say, really.
Most likely with my long-time Simpsons compadre, Jonny, with whom I've shared many a great, classic, and reasonably mundane Simpsons moment. But one thing I can guarantee, it will be in front of a TV somewhere, eyes glued, mind lovingly attentive, celebrating the joyous return of lifelong friends.

Yes, God bless The Simpsons, in all its animated glory. Welcome back my yellow skinned soul mates. I salute you, with love.

D.A.