Things Get Real for Mayday

At the end of the day, Cheers is a series about a bar, it’s owner and his waitstaff, and the drunks they serve. That said, it’s also really, really good.

I say this not based on the show’s reputation and lasting relevance, but on the strength of this fourth season which has taken me an eternity to finish. The whole Frasier meltdown intertwined with the SamAndDianeWillTheyWontTheyLoveDrama has been interesting to watch. Yet the more dramatic elements of the show have been spaced out enough this season that when they do occur, they seem to hit with a poignancy that’s atypical of sitcoms.

One great example of the show blending typical comedy with drama is the aptly titled “Dark Imaginings” in which Sam and Woody go head to head in racquetball. This, of course, comes about when Sam gets the impression people think Woody is more athletic and younger than he is. The problem, of course, is that Woody is more athletic and younger than Sam.

Mayday ends up with his whole body aching, leading to some rare physical comedy on the part of Ted Danson. Cue laugh track, end of show, right? That’s exactly where a show like, say, Everybody Loves Raymond would call it a day. Yet, Cheers takes it a step further with Sam not only going to the hospital with a hernia, but also going to great lengths to hide his injuries from the other characters.

Back at the bar, Diane overhears a table of nurses talking about a sexy patient they’ve been looking after named “Lance Manyon.” Diane drops a glass and declares, “My God, it’s Sam!”

Concerned, Carla, Woody, and Diane visit Mayday. Once the others leave, Diane talks Sam into letting her read for him. He agrees and lets her sit on his bed before slowly creeping away and pushing an end table against the hospital room door. Diane continues reading as Sam lowers the lights and shuts the curtains. Once aware of what ole’ Mayday is up to, Diane explains things will not be going how Sam intended. “This is a once in a lifetime chance to play doctor in a real hospital!” Sam protests, to no avail. Instead, his once (and probably future) lover takes pity on him by explaining he doesn’t have to use his libido to prove to himself he’s still young. Rather, Ms. Chambers argues, growing old is a good thing, particularly for men who she says become more distinguished in mid-life.

From here, Diane bids Mayday adieu and Sam is greeted by a roommate who recognizes him from his Red Sox days. The two have a conversation about accepting being in middle age before the new roommate is greeted with his own guest. She’s introduced to Sam and the three continue to make small talk for a minute before, naturally, Mayday hits on her and tells her if she’s everything thinking about leaving her boyfriend she can call up Sammy any time.

I should reiterate that last season on his way to break-up Diane’s wedding to Frasier, Sam hit on the stewardess of his flight. It makes perfect sense for him to hit on the wife/girlfriend of one of his fans. Worse than a casual rejection to his causal proposition, Mayday is hit with being told matter-of-factly that the woman is not the guy’s girlfriend, but his daughter. The two look down on Sam for his audacity and leave the room for a walk.

The studio audience gets a get laugh out of this, sure, but it leads to a great image in which Sam sits down at the chair near the window and looks out over the Boston night sky. No more laughter. No applauding. Just the audience looking at the main character of a sitcom being hit with the cold hard truth that he’s a tomcat for whom life just may have passed by.

Things Are Looking Up for the Fras...

It's taken me forever to get through season 4 of Cheers. This has been for a number of reasons, such as my other professional obligations.

But perhaps one of the reasons it's taken me months to get through this season is the fact that Frasier's downfall is (pathetically) hitting a little too close to home for me. This of course led to the well-received posts on what I dubbed "the art of hitting rock bottom." And throughout the season, the Fras has floated along on this show being depressed, unable to stand being around Diane while simultaneously unable to stay away from her, and trying in vein to fit in with Norm, Cliff and the gang by being just one of the regular joes.


And through that drifting along, something curious has happened -- Frasier has let go of Diane. It happened in episode 15, the appropriately titled "Triangle." In typical sitcom fashion, Diane convinces Sam to fake being depressed so that the actually depressed Frasier can get his mojo back by professionally treating Sam. Fras buys into Sam's depression but is convinced that it spurs from his love for Diane, thus complicating matters even worse than they were before.

By the episode's end, Frasier is able to accept that Diane and Sam are made for each other and pushes Sam to admit this fact to himself and to Diane. This all comes from the contrived nature of sitcom plots, sure, yet the episode's last scene has some realistic weight behind it with Frasier forcing Sam and Diane to address the elephant in the room. Of course it's a laugh out loud moment since Frasier ends up screaming at the two of them for being so naive to not see the obvious, but it still works as a great scene.

And with this episode, it seems Frasier Crane has come into his own as a main-stay character on Cheers. He will forever be intertwined into the SamAndDianeWillTheyWontTheyLoveDrama (which I'm stylizing as one word because, honestly, at this point it deserves to be it's own pronoun). But rather than just being the third person involved in the triangle, Frasier begins to come into his own as a character as season 4 pushes towards its conclusion.

He's beginning to come into the bar without any pretext of wanting to speak to Diane, leading to more scenes between he, Norm and Cliff, which works well with the three's dialouge bouncing off one another. And it doesn't hurt that nearly everything Frasier says goes over Woody's head, similar to what we used to see in the first two seasons of the show with Coach misinterpreting nearly everything coming out of Diane's mouth.

Another important development of Frasier's resurgence is the debut of Lilith, the character who becomes Frasier's wife and ex-wife. He introduces the gang to her as they stop by for a drink on their first date.

If you're familiar with Lilith at all, it should come as no surprise that she comes across as cold, impersonal, and uptight. The big laugh from her debut is her declaration that Frasier should not expect any sugar post-date. This would be fine with, and probably welcomed by, the Frasier we once knew. But fully developed Frasier, who considers Mayday Malone a good friend, is more than frustrated by the declaration.

Thus, sparks do not (yet) fly between Fras and Lilith in season 4. So, once again feeling the need to help out a friend, Mayday sets Fras up with one of his countless number of bimbos. Note that bimbo is not editorializing on my part, the actual description of the episode reads "Sam sets Frasier up with one of his young bimbos."

The bimbo in question here is a young Jennifer Tilly who plays her role pitch perfectly. She's exceptionally dumb, even by Mayday's low standards. But the kicker is she is just what Frasier needs after his bad date with Lilith. The two have nothing in common yet hit it off and get engaged. Of course typical sitcom storywriting rears its head and the two come to their senses after a talking down to by Sam and Diane. Still, this is a Frasier more personable and laid-back than we've seen before.

And perhaps most important of all, it is clear that Frasier has finally come into his own because Kelsey Grammar has finally been moved from a guest star to a regular cast member.

On 8th Grade, Surrealism, Realism and Adam Sandler

When I was in eighth grade, I broke my leg in three spots by snowboarding in my front yard. It is an infamous story of which every person that went to Carman-Ainsworth Junior High School in 1998 is aware.

To make a long story short, it was kind of a rough several months. I was in a cast up to my thigh and spent several weeks in a wheel chair. This made me popular for a brief moment in time as students would fight over who would push me to my next class (getting dismissed 5 minutes early in the process). I then had a cast put on that went past me knee and used clutches to get around. Eventually a smaller cast was put on me and finally a walking boot. I went through months of physical rehab and eventually had to walk with a cane, which would sometimes get taken from me at lunch by obnoxious assholes who I assume now are all leading miserable existences. :-)

The reason I bring all of this up is because of the fact that I was out of school for two weeks. Again, this was 1998, otherwise known as the heyday of America Online and that magical, trailblazing thing known as the private group chat. From my family's dinning room (where my dad had placed our Compaq computer)I would eagerly sit awkwardly and wait for my friends to get home and get online.

Late at night, I would watch 90% of all Winter Olympics programming while during the day I watched the news (the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal was just developing). Additionally, I spent those two weeks doing something else -- I watched the movie Happy Gilmore in its entirety every single day.

(I also ate a pepperoni Hot Pocket every day, which is why I'm typing this in gym clothes as I struggle everyday to get my BMI to a respectable level, but that's neither here nor there...)

So it is within this context that I hope you can imagine my irrational excitement when Norm has a meeting with a potentinal client whose wife is Grandma Gilmore! As you can see, Grandma looks practically the same here in 1985 as does in 1996. As the episode progresses, we learn she's playing the wife of a diary farmer, leading to Norm trying in vain connect with the couple. Naturally, Cliff easily makes friends with them and the three leave the bar with Norm having not closed the deal.

Despite playing the wife of a diary farmer, Grandma Gilmore doesn't request a glass of warm milk as she did, so hilariously in 1996:


Back in the summer, as this blog began taking shape, I wrote about the guest appearance by Shooter McGavin, who played a former teammate's of Sam Malone. Thus, we have two principal actors from Happy Gilmore making appearances on Cheers.

Coincidentally, the connections don't stop there as another actor from a 1996 Adam Sandler film stops by Cheers:


This guy, who played Carl in Billy Madison, has an even more minor role than Grandma Gilmore both in the Sandler movies and in their respective cameos on Cheers.

And for those of you keeping score at home, both Grandma Gilmore and Carl had notable roles on Seinfeld . (First one to leave a comment on this post and name who they were on that show will win an imaginary prize!)

Leaving behind the surrealism of seeing people who played a significant role in my life in the mid to late 90's showing up in Cheers episodes that aired when I was 2, I want to lastly talk about realism for a minute.


For nearly four seasons, Cliff Clavin has been seen wearing his uniform at the bar in every non-Halloween inspired episode. Yet in an episode that occurs on a Sunday, Cliff is wearing a plaid shirt and a vest. He makes no mention of not working, but by now everyone realizes he's a mailman, and thus wouldn't be working on Sunday. It's a nice, subtle touch. I appreciate the nod to realism while at the same time, seeing Norm donning a suit on that same Sunday, I can't help but criticize the show's lack of consistency.

Then again, who the hell am I to talk? I just took you from 1998, and the days of AOL, the Lewinsky scandal, and Hot Pockets, to an in-depth discussion of no-name actors to an unrelated discussion of Cliff Clavin's wardrobe. Consistency ain't this blog's bag...

The Art of Hitting Rock Bottom

As has become tradition in this space, I'll begin this post like most others by offering an explanation for the lack of regular updates. This time, however, the reasoning is a bit different. I've had the time to write this post and to be honest, I've had a lot of it written in my head or on my nearly filled legal pad I've been using for note-taking while watching Cheers.

Yet, I've been reluctant to write (and finish) this post because the idea of what I want it to be keeps evolving in my mind. At any rate, let's start at the genesis of the idea which is this: Cheers, season 4, episode 2. Frasier Crane, who just one episode ago pulled a piece out on Sam, has now amassed a bar tab topping $500. He's down for having lost Diane, and he's trying his best to be both down and out. He doesn't only want to drink his sadness away, he wants to be seen drinking his sadness away. He wants to be a depressed, pathetic drunk. The goal, he admits to Sam, is to fall from grace and hit rock bottom.

The irony of course is that Frasier's downward spiral at the start of season 4 mirrors Sam's at the start of season 3. (Which I wrote about .) The difference, it seems, is that Mayday's fall from grace was authentic. He fell off thehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif wagon, began boozing and became a horrible bar owner and manager, sleeping with every new waitress he hired and alienating most of his employees and customers in the process. With Frasier, rock bottom isn't so much as the location but as the destination. He wants to get there. And he wants it to be known he's there.

And that's fine. But what Frasier's aiming for here isn't rock bottom -- or at least it's not a real rock bottom. Rather, it's something that feels like rock bottom, feels like the worst emotional pain and torment imaginable. It's that pit of despair, that bout of depression, we all go through in life.

This is the very reason I've had trouble finishing this post-- Frasier's pursuit of rock bottom is so universal Sometimes it lasts a day or two, sometimes it drags on. Sometimes no one else notices, sometimes it seems as if the whole world is aware. The pain, the sorrow (whatever words you want to use, because we all have our own way of verbalizing these times in our lives) is indeed serious, but not as always as severe as we make it out to be.

There's a plethora of examples from movies and TV shows where a character goes off the deep in, so to speak. Yet a clear cut example, and one often quoted amongst my close knit group of BFFs, is Owen Wilson's character in Wedding Crashers:



The above, to me, is similar to Frasier's rock bottom in that depression is real (as may even be the suicidal thoughts), but the person's life and world is otherwise in tact and sound. Obviously being heartbroken from losing a girlfriend/fiance/what-have-you isn't the only way a person hits rock bottom. Death is another, more serious, way. And TV provides us with a perfect example of what I'm speaking of with season 4 of another NBC Thursday night sitcom, Scrubs:



These scenes with JD's brother, Dan, spending his days following his dad's death in a bathtub are no doubt meant to be funny (and they are). But there's a scene of realism to it as well. Anyone who's lost a loved one or even been severely heartbroken by the end of a relationship knows that feeling of wanting to stay in bed for days on end. Or in some cases stay in a bathtub drinking room temp Budweisers.

Sometimes being at rock bottom comes out of hopelessness -- not knowing what to do or where to turn, thus the lying in bed or a bathtub. Other times rock bottom serves as a last stand-- a final attempt to lay it all on the line and win back everything lost. Ironically, Zach Braff provides us with an example of this with the extremely underrated film The Last Kiss:



As you can see in the video above, Zach Braff's character has vowed to not leave the porch of the home he shares with his girlfriend until she takes him back. Interestingly, his girlfriend has hit her own rock bottom, we learn, as she explains the pain she felt when saying goodbye to her dying grandma is the same pain she's feeling in saying goodbye to her relationship. The dialogue in this scene, to me, is just fantastic because it's very, very realistic.

This is another reason I found difficulty in finishing this post because some of these examples are beginning to hit a little too close to home for me. Despite pointing that out, I should say that I'm going to deliberately not get personal here with this post. Granted the whole point of this blog was for me to record and relate my experience of going through every single episode of one of America's beloved sitcoms, and by that goal alone I could easily justify going into my own feelings. But this, like the show Cheers itself, is for everyone to read and share. This space is not a diary, never will be.

Sometimes ending a relationship can feel like mourning the loss of a loved one. That seems crazy and foolish until you experience it for yourself. And there's an added guilt that goes along with those feelings because you hate yourself for going through a mourning that shouldn't be as serious as a real, actual death. But sometimes that's how we function as humans.

And it's from that fragile, sometimes irrational, emotional state that we derive at rock bottom. In Frasier's case, rock bottom is running up a $500 bar tab and beginning the man who may or may not be in direct competition with him for the love his life to hire him as a janitor to repay his debts. In Owen Wilson's case, it's crashing weddings, and funerals, while coming home to a trashed apartment and reading don't kill myself books.

So with the above in mind, and because Christmas is just around the corner, let me end this post with my suggestions for a playlist to which you can listen to while sitting in a bathtub, be it drinking in a disgusting, lukewarm pool of water or fully clothed in an argyle sweater.


Coldplay - "The Scientist"

Warning: Coldplay's going to show up on this list a lot. I can't help it, so many of their songs are brilliantly depressing. That's why Zach Braff chose their song "Warning Song" for the aforementioned scene in The Last Kiss.

Here with "Scientist," the lyrics are just as emotionally charged and vivid. Plus when I was a freshman in college, I thought the video was the greatest thing ever made.

Best/most depressing line: "No one ever said it would be this hard. / Oh, take me back to the start."

Dave Matthews - "Stay or Leave"


In 2003, Dave Matthews released his first and only solo album with this song being one of the highlights. Of the many live versions hanging around YouTube, I went with the Live at Radio City version because it features some great acoustic guitar work by Tim Reynolds.

Best/most depressing line: "Remember we used to dance and everyone wanted to be you and me... I want to be, too."

Adele - "Someone Like You"

Obviously the go-to hanging-on-by-a-thread/rock bottom song of the moment.

Best/most depressing line: "I hoped that you'd see my face and be reminded that, for me, it isn't over."

The Verve - "The Drugs Don't Work"

A fantastic song by a fantastic band. 1997's Urban Hymns is one of the greatest albums ever and this song is one of the reasons why.

Best/most depressing line: "I hope you're thinking of me as you lay down on your side because the drugs don't work, they just make you worse, but I know I'll see your face again."

Travis - "Writing To Reach You"

Speaking of all time great albums, 2000's The Man Who by Travis deserves to be mentioned. Just yesterday, I cited this as one of the greatest sophomore albums by a band ever. This song is one of the reasons why.

Best/most depressing line: "It's good to know that you are home for Christmas. It's good to know that you are doing well. It's good to know that you are no longer hurting. It's good to know I'm feeling not so well."

Coldplay - "Violet Hill"

Another great, depressing song from Coldplay. Rather than post all the others that could go on this playlist, I'll just list a few of them: "What If?", "Trouble", Lost?", and "X & Y."

Best/most depressing line: "If you loved me, why'd you let me go?"

Counting Crows - "A Long December"

A fitting song for sitting in your bathtub while wearing you're best argyle, yet it's a good (depressing) song to listen to any time of the year.

Best/most depressing line: "I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower / Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her."

Young The Giant - "Cough Syrup"

A newer band that I've recently gotten into. This is definitely one of their best songs and goes along well with the others. I mean, how couldn't it, the song begins with the line "Life's too short to even care at all..."

Best/most depressing line: "If I could find a way to see this straight, I'd run to some fortune that I should have found by now."

Audioslave - "Like A Stone"

A great band who, much like The Verve, created a lot of fantastic music in only a few short years. But of course Chris Cornell, as he's wont to do, had to let his ego get in the way and ruin everything...

Best/most depressing line: "I confess I was lost in the pages / of a book, full of death / reading I would die alone."

Stereophonics - "Since I Told You It's Over"

Truth be told, I somehow forgot about this sing when I first published this post last night. And I'm kicking myself for that because if there was ever a song that perfectly sums out the emotions one feels when hitting rock bottom, it is this.

Best/most depressing line: "You can't tell me this now, it's too far down the line / that you're never, ever gonna get over me."

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Brendan's Death Song"


The first time I heard this song, I listened to it three times in a row. The lyrics are beautiful and touching while Chad Smith's drum work is phenomenal. A great song for any playlist, but it certainly fits here.

Best/most depressing line: "Like I said you know I'm almost dead, I'm almost gone. And when the drummer drums, he's gonna play my song to carry me along."

U2 - "One"

Far and away the greatest rock bottom song ever. It baffles me that, to this day, some people have chosen this for a wedding song! It's not a love song, far from it. But what it is is, well, brilliant.

Best/most depressing line: "And I can't be holding on to what you've got when all you've got his hurt."

Cliff Clavin, Jessie Spano, and the Problem with "Very Special" Sitcom Episodes

There seems to be a theme this week when it comes to my posts here. The theme? Realism and it's place in sitcom television.

I chastised Cheers earlier this week for not poking fun at itself when it should have done so, then I applauded the show for giving the characters a degree of depth I found to ring true.

And now it's time to talk about an episode of Cheers where shit got real for a minute. It's still season 2, and the episode (overall) is #31, "Cliff's Rocky Moment." As you can conjure, the episode is centered around Cliff Clavin, the resident know-it-all. And in what can only be called "a very special episode of Cheers," the Boston mailman's mouth gets the best of him as some new guy repeatedly tells him to shut up.

But we all know Cliff Clavin can't help himself. He's like Bono -- the man just cannot stop talking. So this new guy challenges Cliffy to take it outside. And I know they're not going to go outside. Not because Cliff is a big wuss, but because thus far there's only been three rooms the entire show's been filmed in (the main bar area, Sam's office, the back poolroom, and Diane's living room). No way is this show going to spend the cash for it's first outdoor shot on a fight between a minor character and guy whose name we do not know.

No, instead Cliff gives the guy the slip then comes back the next day with his friend from the post office who is both large and black. The only reason I mention the guy's race is because Norm introduces himself and quickly makes the "all black people know each other" joke. Not funny now, not funny in 1983. The paid muscle steps in between Cliff and the bully, only to leave Cliff astray after agreeing that Clavin indeed is a know-it-all.

Cliff is left to his own devices and states he's a master at karate yet refuses to fight the bully. The entire bar believes Cliff to be a liar, sans Diane because, you know, she sees the good in everyone. Next the bully, in what is portrayed as a very tense scene, tells Cliff to man up and to not be a coward. Cliff hangs his head low and walks out of the bar.

Sam asks the bully (who still has no name) if he's happy with himself and to beat it. Okay, great Mayday, but where the hell were you two minutes ago?!?

The gang wonder if ole Cliffy were ever show his face in Cheers again, only to be surprised when he returns a minute later with a piece of 4x4 and three mortar bricks. He makes Norm hold the board and Carla a brick, breaking them with his bare foot and forehead, respectively.

The bar applauds and celebrates Cliff's ability and truthfulness. And there's a lesson to be learn, which of course is to not trust a book by its cover.

And here's where my over-analyzing goes back into high gear. A hallmark of sitcoms in the 80s and early 90s were these "a very special episode..." episodes in which the perceived drama outweighs the comedy and (usually) the social issues of the era are tackled.

This happened once already with Cheers in season 1 (see my previous post on Mayday being a gay rights pioneer). And here the drama centers around Cliff being made out to be a coward. Though that first episode ends on a bit of a cheap joke (two gay dudes kissing mildly homophobic Norm Peterson on the cheek), I thought the show did a good job of trying to tackle a serious issue.

Here, on the other hand, the drama felt out of place. Not exactly forced, as there was no social issue at hand; it was just Cliff wouldn't shut up and someone wanted to kick his ass. But still, whatever the show was trying to go for didn't work.

And that's the reason I spent the past hour writing this post. When has it ever really worked for a sitcom in terms of trying to be serious? We all can recall "a very special episode..." of our favorite sitcoms and we usually laugh at whatever dramatic scene was the climax of the story.

The one that surely jumps out for people of my generation is this scene from Saved By The Bell in which Jessie confides in Zack Morris that she's taking caffeine pills in order to balance studying with extra curricular activities.



Is this clip memorable to my generation because it taught us all the important lesson of staying away from over the counter stimulants? Eff no! It's memorable because we all thought it was cheesy as hell, even at the time it aired and we were elementary school kids.

And this is the point I'm going for: Why do sitcoms try in any serious manner to teach their audiences life lessons when it so often does not work? Or does the question become just because it usually doesn't work, does that mean a show should not bother trying to be serious?

To avoid sounding like a know-it-all myself, I'll end this post with saying I have no answers to these questions. Instead, I'll ask you, my eight loyal readers, what you think.