Bastet

R is for The Rusty Anchor, where Dorothy became a big hit, much to Blanche's dismay.

K is for Kate, one of Dorothy's two children who aren't remotely close the age they're supposed to be.

We can always change it. I would vote - wholeheartedly - for making this a "regular" thread, since I think it's silly to spoiler tag something that has not only already aired on television, but been around for 80 years, and I think excessive spoiler tags make a post/thread annoying to read. But having said that, with our practice of only spoiler-tagging major plot points, we haven't had excessive spoiler tags so that hasn't been an issue. (Of course, there have also been posts in which people seem to be speaking in a deliberately vague manner to avoid the "spoiler or not?" issue altogether. And obviously at least one person who hasn't joined in the discussion for fear of not handling the spoiler issue properly.)

My So-Called Life. ABC waited a year to pick up the pilot, then aired it after other shows had started their seasons, so most people had already gotten into a routine with another network's show in that timeslot. Then it was aired in fits and starts, again cutting into the general audience's ability/willingness to keep with it (and it wasn't a show that could be effectively watched sporadically given the number of ongoing storylines). Finally, after leaving everyone hanging as to its future, ABC offered to pick up a second season four episodes at a time ... right around the time Claire Danes came to the producers and said she didn't want to do the show anymore even if it was picked up. Brilliant, but doomed.

Ass. (The missing word, not you.)

The puritans at Hallmark will leave in something like "what the hell," but "go to hell" always gets censored. This is, after all, the network that censored the word "butt." "Butt." The word every other network would use as a substitute if "ass" was verboten.

I became violently angry when that damn paperclip started showing up in MS Word and trying to talk to me about the format of my document, so I'm definitely not the target audience for a car that will make driving decisions for me. (A warning sound, fine. Taking over operation of the controls, no.)

I like so many songs listed in this thread, and without guilt. The only song I am truly embarassed to have on my iPod is Donna Fargo's The Happiest Girl in the Whole U.S.A. Songs that probably should embarass me to own, but don't: Bell Biv DeVoe, Do Me! Naughty by Nature, O.P.P. Tiffany, Should've Been Me Bertie Higgins, Key Largo David Allan Coe, You Never Even Call Me By My Name Vixen, How Much Love Trixter, One in a Million Janie Fricke, She's Single Again The Gatlin Brothers, All the Gold in California Tracey Ullman, They Don't Know Aqua, Barbie Girl Divinyls, I Touch Myself Quiet Riot, Cum on Feel the Noize (the spelling, yes, the song, no) Positive K, I Got a Man David Frizzell, I'm Gonna Hire a Wino to Decorate Our Home Skid Row, Youth Gone Wild Gary Wright, Dream Weaver DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince, Parents Just Don't Understand Pebbles, Girlfriend Coolio, Gangsta's Paradise Joe Nichols, Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off Bananarama, Cruel Summer Biz Markie, Just a Friend Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, Good Vibrations Anne Murray, Now and Forever and Could I Have This Dance T.G. Sheppard, War is Hell on the Homefront Too The Oak Ridge Boys, Elvira Colbie Caillat, Bubbly Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Young Girl And now I am off to download Waiting for a Star to Fall ...

More than one point, I think. "You know I always wanted to pretend I was an architect!" "I'm an architect." "Really. What do you design?" "Uh, railroads ..." "I thought engineers do that." "They can."

This is just free therapy, but since I lost my Baxter six months ago this morning, I'm taking up some space to remember him among other cat people. Adopted from the shelter Dec. 10, 2000, at six months of age (alongside approximately 3-year-old Maddie), the grey goober with white paws who was given the name Baxter Adam was very much a kitten. He’d wake up in the morning ready to play, but unwilling to let me out of his sight. So he’d race downstairs, select a toy, and carry it back up onto the bed with him to play there while Maddie and I dozed. He carried a lot of things around in his mouth as a youngster, most notably a box of Brita filters and a foam wedge larger than his body. Although he slowed down as he aged - and devoted himself fully to getting at least the requisite 16 hours of sleep per day - Baxter took his ornery streak to the grave with him. He never gave up chasing his tail, but decided it could only be done in select locations: on the bed, in front of the kitchen sink or, most fun, in the bathtub. Nor did he give up chasing Maddie, or delighting in her chasing him back. Even more prominent than the orneriness was the sweetness. Bax was a sensitive soul who loved to cuddle and showed great empathy when Maddie or I were unwell. A total "Mama’s Boy," he was the most child-like cat I’ve ever had. If he stepped on something, got something in his fur, became upset that Maddie had stolen his food, etc., instead of handling it himself he’d come running up to me, crying for help like a toddler. Baxter earned a reputation for experiencing every illness and injury common to veterinary science – and more than a few that weren’t. Time and again, a specialist would marvel, “This is most unusual.” Our regular vet would say, “How very Baxter.” I'd just scratch his ears and pay another bill. In the end, all those maladies took a toll. He must have had some underlying heart condition (knowing him, probably a congenital defect normally found only in the wallaby), and the cumulative stress was too much. On Dec. 17th, he went into cardiac arrest out of the blue. It's a long, traumatizing story of medical miracles and cautious optimism, but that isn't the story of his life (and, quite frankly, it's still hard to talk about that surreal experience). Suffice to say, I got him to the hospital quickly, and 19 minutes of CPR brought him back and for three days in ICU it looked as if Baxter would defy the odds once again, but then came a second arrest and after several minutes of unsuccessful CPR I had them stop compressions. What kind of life would I be bringing him back to even if it worked, since it had already happened again and a battery of tests couldn't identify the underlying cause? Life has gone on, as it does when these things happen, and Maddie and I are settled into a new routine. But the spaces of my heart taken up by The Bax will never fully heal, and that's okay -- better to suffer that void than to have never had my heart filled by loving him in the first place.

I think Airbus planes are far too automated, and the thought of a generation of pilots trained only on such systems (e.g. Air France 447) scares the crap out of me - and I say this as someone with a lifetime ease with flying. We need to stop getting so caught up in what technology can do that we lose sight of the limits on what it should do. This is the line of thinking I go down every time I see an ad for one of these cars that substitutes computerized "thinking" for human decision-making. I think the two can work hand-in-hand, but the commercials almost universally lead me to fear the driver has been stripped of too much power - dangerous now, but also in the future if people learn to drive by relying on this increasing array of automated systems and thus don't know how to deal in the event of system failure.

Indeed. I love when Jon and Stephen crack each other up and break character. Thus, I also adore the pirate toss.

Yeah, Ensure is something one drinks because it's all that stands between them and malnutrition. When I was caring for my grandpa in his final year, I worked like a mad scientist to doctor that stuff up into something he could finish a glass of. Unless this PediaSure is so full of sugar kids are having a very different gustatory experience than their elder counterparts, how is it preferable to broccoli, let alone waffles? Regardless, the commercials piss me off - for the whiny, demanding kids and for the parents who are too damn lazy or cowed to do their job as parents. And most of all for the marketing execs who decided to peddle something made to temporarily nourish sick children as a substitute for balanced meals in picky eaters.

No. I don't even like cars that automatically lock the doors, so I certainly don't want my car to make driving decisions.

Plus, they didn't have a large enough piece to do the backsplash above the stove as one slab, so they had to join two pieces together, which broke up the pattern and made the joint obvious. And then they used a different stone on the island, even though it didn't remotely coordinate with the green they'd use for countertops and backsplash.

Other than the wife who's dispatched with in the opening flashback (and I guess the woman with no lines who runs the halfway house and the female customer with one line at the grocery store), The Shawshank Redemption features only men.

That's harder to do off screen, when the actor has died and thus isn't available for any new footage. Fundamentally, it has less emotional impact for me than an unexpected, happenstance death. While I liked the characters' accident scene reactions, particularly Frankie's, I think Korsak receiving the phone call would have made for an even better final scene.

I couldn't begin to estimate how many times I've seen that episode, and every time I watch it I swear I'm going to make it through the poem without tearing up. It should be easy, given the fact I know it so well I recite it along with her and I'm not prone to tears, but damn if my eyes don't get moist every time. Sara Gilbert, Roseanne and Laurie Metcalf all nail it.

Oh my god, something about being in bed with a Mormon on one side of her and a naked gay man on the other and "What am I supposed to do with that?"

That was one of those "Holy shit!" moments that doesn't happen all that often in television.

I love Stephen's meltdown, but the segment is not a favorite as I just can't get past listing "welfare reform" as one of Bill Clinton's accomplishments, as I consider the dismantling of AFDC and replacement with TANF one of the darkest stains on his presidency.

I like her politics and her acting, but I missed the broadcast. TCM will air it August 1st, her "Summer Under the Stars" day, but I'm not sure of the time.

I think the best segment of Decorating Cents was the one where she redecorated a room simply by moving things around and swapping out furniture with other rooms of the house. It gave great ideas on how to make a room look new at zero cost. They were too hokey for words - a then-colleague and I used to imitate the poses they did at the end of the opening credits - but the basic ideas made the show watchable. I really miss Gardening by the Yard.

I remember you saying your dislike stemmed from it being sheep's milk. Have you ever tried some of the "feta" cheese made with cow's milk? (I haven't, as I love real feta, so I have no idea of its flavor profile, but I know it exists.)

My neighbor asked me to come help her with something, and we came inside to find her visiting granddaughter watching Titanic on television. My neighbor spots it and says, "I told you we're not watching that damn thing." The granddaughter says to me, "Can you believe she doesn't like this movie?" Yes. Yes, I can. So I delivered a mini-dissertation on the big ball of wrong that is the storytelling approach, and felt the spirit of this thread at my back.