ME TV has been a welcome addition to the cable lineup here in Central Indiana, mostly for the episodes of Perry Mason that air at 11:30 p.m. after Chelsea Lately is over. If you get up really early you can catch an episode of The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis or Love American Style and I have watch a couple of episodes of The Wild, Wild West on weekends. Some of the programs they air, like The Brady Bunch or M*A*S*H I have no interest at all in.
The Mary Tyler Moore Show is one that would usually fall into the disinterested category, along with Mary Tyler Moore’s other vehicle, The Dick Van Dyke Show. The Mary Tyler Moore was a show that, to me, the parts were better than the whole so I enjoyed Rhoda, Phyllis, and Lou Grant more than I enjoyed their source show. So the other day, while clicking around during a pause in another program, I came across a sight that stopped me in my tracks: Mary, Rhoda and Phyllis were in Mary’s apartment standing around dressed for exercise in shiny, form-fitting bodysuits and tights.
All three women were beautiful and had lovely figures, even Rhoda who whose character was supposed to be something of an ugly duckling counterpoint to Mary, but the radiant standout of the group was Phyllis Lindstrom whose body could have been a model of perfectly proportioned human female perfection topped by a Grecian fountain of frosted curls. Every move she made was breathtaking and no one could possibly take their eyes off of her when she is on screen.
I was admiring the scene when I looked over and noticed my son, Max, looking lustfully at the screen in a way you just never catch him doing. I could tell he was completely entranced by the gorgeous creature commanding the scene.
Unnoticed, I watched him for a few seconds and said, “That’s Cloris Leachman, you know.”
“What?” Max asked.
“That’s Cloris Leachman,” I repeated, “You know, from Raising Hope and Young Frankenstein.”
“You lie,” Max said.
“No, I’m totally telling the truth,” I responded.
He looked closely at the television at the high cheekbones and sharp nose of the woman on the screen.
“No, it can’t be,” Max said, his cheeks reddening, “Because if it is, my brain is going to explode and start leaking out my eyes.”
“We can’t have that,” I said as I turned the television safely back to the Ed Show where no lust is generated, not even a bit.