The Barryfest Chronicles

During the doldrums of summer, I found myself at home one weekday evening with nothing to do.  The Red Sox were not playing, I promised Glizz that I would not start Season 2 of The Wire until he returned from his law school sponsored vacation in Greece (a promise that I at least kept for the first 4 weeks of his 6 week excursion), and I had yet to buy the Grateful Dead Six pack for Rock Band.

Flipping around on the tube, I stumbled across the TBS original sitcom My Boys.  I figured I would give it a go.  All I knew going into my first viewing was that it is set in Chicago and filmed in HD.  Hitting one of these criteria is good enough for me to give something the old college try, so the fact that it got both was promising.  Besides, it prominently features Jim Gaffigan, so it can’t be that bad, right?

Right.  It’s really not that bad.  Under different circumstance, it may not have earned the “Record entire season” distinction on my DVR, but for some reason I was feeling charitable after my first viewing and gave it the go.  After watching one cleverly written, comfortably paced episode after another it dawned on me:  Sure, this show is not going to be the next Seinfeld or It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (hell, I don’t even think it will be the next The Single Guy or Boston Common), but does that automatically qualify it as unwatchable?  An alleged film major, for example, may say “Yes, that does make it unwatchable.”  He may also say “Christ, man!  I figured you were recording it to be ironic!”

I disagree.  Maybe spending a better part of the summer closely following the first act of The Wire (possibly the best TV show ever made) and relentlessly listening to and deciphering the dizzying wordplay of Tha Carter III (which some have called the best rap album of all time) sort of left me longing for the type of earnest mediocrity and unchallenging engagement found in simple pleasures like Hot Pocket Croissants and drunken blow jobs.

Repeated viewings of My Boys will not likely unleash hilarious in-jokes and sight gags you might have missed the first time.   And nothing on the show is ostensibly one thing, but really a metaphor for something else.  And it is not particularly relevant or even the least bit groundbreaking.

But I want it to be known:  If I ever liken anything to My Boys – the well produced, inoffensive, easy to follow TBS original sitcom – the comparison is purely positive.  Because, like laying back and catching a clumsy BJ after a long night of drinking, it is a pretty agreeable way to spend 30 minutes of your life.