The gun pointed at the head of the Fox

I’m pulling double-duty today, so if you’re here to see the latest Pac Man entry, you’ll find it below this one.

I finally did it. I made it through a complete airing of The War at Home. Honestly, I don’t know how to feel. In a way, there’s a sense of accomplishment. But in another more profound way, there’s a sense of astonishment. How could this show possibly have been picked up for another season?

The only possible answer is that Michael Rappaport has abducted Rupert Murdoch’s kitten and is holding it hostage.

I didn’t keep any stats for this particular episode. Remember. Baby steps. I will hypothesize that there was canned laughter after three out of every four lines. (There was also laughter when the mother (Vicki) squirted some Windex at Larry when his back was turned. Hi-larious). This is just a rough estimate (for now), but it would seem that at least 75 percent of the time someone on The War at Home opens his or her mouth, it’s funny. Damn funny.

Here’s the breakdown: Dave (Rappaport) is concerned because Vicki is emasculating him and his sons by being a “ball-breaker.” (In the well-worn territory department (WWTD), this is along the lines of when Wilma and Betty got jobs on The Flinstones, and when Marge became a cop on The Simpsons, thwarting a counterfeit jeans ring operating out of Homer’s car-hole). Dave’s concern was inspirationally captured in a white-screen confessional in which he let the air out of two flesh-toned balloons held near his nether-region. Now we’re thinking outside the box.

Allow me my own white-screen moment about these freaking white-screen moments. Let’s be absolutely clear about what they are. These are placed in the show to allow the actor to directly address the audience and tell us what he or she is thinking. This is incredibly subtle. This is essentially a vehicle by which The War at Home’s writers prove that they have absolutely no confidence in their actors' ability to, oh I don’t know, convey how the character is feeling by use of, oh I don’t know… acting. It’s a pretty ham-fisted technique. And frankly, when you have actors with the talent of a Michael Rappaport or a Kyle Sullivan, I think you have to turn them loose and watch the magic happen…

Incidentally, Vicki’s “ball-breaking” led Larry (Sullivan) to run away. (WWTD – There was an episode of Alf wherein said, Alf, rode the rails to get away from the oppressive non-cat-eating Tanner household.

Anyway, watching this entire episode yielded three discoveries:

1. Whoever lighted that particular episode was going for the Gladiator effect on Rappaport’s eyes (this was in no-way flattering. It made him look like a corpse). Hmm… Corpse Dad… I think I smell a hit if you’re listening, Fox…

2. I am no longer allowed to watch The War at Home in bed when my wife is present. This was told to me in no uncertain terms. Essentially, she grabbed me by my head, looked me in the eyes and expressly forbade me to watch the show again in her presence. This technique is similar to what I do with the dog I'm trying to keep it from chasing the cat or jumping on the furniture. Having seen it first-hand, I can positively verify its effectiveness.

3. The complete lack of anything that even borders on humor within the actual program serves only to make the commercials that air during the three blessed breaks seem about as funny as the unrated version of Old School.

If you’re the Burger King, how are you supposed to feel? On one hand, you’ve got to be happy your chicken-fries commercials are making the viewer laugh. But you’ve also got to be a little pissed that they’re making the viewer laugh at least 20-times harder than the funniest portion of the comedy you’ve chosen to give your advertising dollars to.

Then again, if you’re the Burger King, you’re probably too busy warming up for the upcoming NFL season to worry about how God-awful The War at Home is….