Dancing With The Hottie Stars

          Can you imagine what would have happened to Sound of Music had Dancing With the Stars producers got there first? Think Julie Andrews, clad in panties, a boob -bouncing prance down that lush, green hill in Austria.

            “These are a few of my favorite things ladedah, ladedah, ladedah.”

            Our culture gets the rare chance to enjoy outstanding quality television the entire family can watch together and what happens? TV screws it up. Look, I know we will never return to the days of Lassie. Happy Days is a dim memory. Poor Fonzie is peddling reverse mortgages. H e e y… y o o h.

            It would seem a simple and winning formula. Professional dancers team with celebrities and teach them extravagant dance routines.  Talented set designers create imaginative backdrops. Amazing chorography. Popcorn ready? Get the kids in here for a fun evening.

            That’s what you think we might get. Here’s a hyperbolic version of what we got. Many parents will nod in assent.

            Erin: Come in here guys while we wait to see what the judges do. Great dance. Were you pleased with it? Ok, wow, you guys finally kissed during your routine. Was it a good kiss, Kym? Did you like it, huh, did you like it? Robert, America wants you to kiss again. Kiss again, guys. Oh, darn, they are not going to kiss again. This is such fun! I so miss junior high! Tom?

            Tom: Heh, heh, heh.

            Erin: Val and Rumer. Come in here. You guys, that was great. I know you are relieved to be finished with that routine. Rumer, let’s be honest now. Is it hard to concentrate when Val takes off his shirt? I mean, oh, wow!  Does it make you hot? It makes ME hot. Wow. I can’t believe I said that. I came to this show a respected college football reporter and now I am almost sounding like an airhead.

            Carrie Ann yells from the judge table: It makes ME hot. What, did I say that? I can’t believe I said that! Maybe I’m an airhead!

            Bruno, waving his outstretched arms as if he were about to take flight:  It most certainly makes ME hot, my darlings  (then contorting his body as if he were caught in a turnstile designed by a mad scientist, Bruno falls off his chair for the seventh time this season. We see him in apparent astonished disbelief, mouth agape)  I fell off my chair. Oh, no, this is hilarious. I am so embarrassed. Is the camera still on me?

            Julianne:  That’s. Oh. Gosh. You guys. Ummm. Gee.

            Len watches on with disdain, wondering how he got tied up with these clowns.

            Erin: Robert, Kym, come in closer here: That was fantastic, guys. Now, you know the whole country is wondering whether you guys are an item. Are you, huh? Are you an item? Are you guys…come on, now, are you guys doin’ it? Really, America wants to know. Are you doin’ it? Are you…oh, goodness, I really am an airhead! Tom?

            Tom: Heh, heh, heh.

            In your living room: Mom, can I go to the dance with my boobs sticking out? Is it okay – whoa, look at that Mom!  Witney is wrapping her legs around Chris’s neck!

           You:  Ok, kids, TV family time just came to an end. To your rooms. Now. And you, I know exactly what you are thinking. Forget it, bub.

            Before you write me off as a prudish old codger, know that in my day I could, to borrow a phrase I suspect is popular among the younger set today, “cut a rug.” Come Friday night sock hop and the jukebox cranked up with Bill Haley and His Comets, it was Rock Around the Clock time.  Oh, wow! My darlings.

            This is the home of New Mexico nonsense.