THE BIG FIVE-O!!

Sorry, this isnít a tribute to Hawaii Five-O, the TV cop show that ran for twelve years on CBS and starred Jack Lord as Detective Steve McGarrett. Instead, the title refers to the fact this is the 50th edition of this column. (I pause for the cheers to subside.) Besides, if I wanted to honor a Jack Lord series it would be Stoney Burke, the show from the early sixties where he played a rodeo cowboy trying to become the worldís champion bronco rider and thus win the prestigious Golden Buckle. Unfortunately, the show only lasted one season and I think he had to settle for third place and some bronze chaps.

Yes, this is indeed the 50th one of these suckers and Iím almost as surprised as you are that Iíve kept it going this long. And let me take this time to disavow the numerous bootleg versions of F & R that can be found on the Internet or the menís room wall at a certain truck stop in Bremen. Those inferior and unauthorized F&Rís were either unfinished or not meant for publication due to various legal and creative reasons. (For example, the one called "Aliens and the Celebrities They Have Anal Sex With" could have gotten me sued and had way too many typos.)

It was suggested I do something special to commemorate this landmark accomplishment, but after careful consideration and a six pack of Strohís, I decided that would take too much effort on my part. Instead what you get is me ranting and raving about shit like I always do, only this time with a state of the union slant. The question is, are we any better off today than when I first sat down and started writing this column? Well, I would have to say "no." But to quote Andy Kaufman is his famous cannonball routine, "Donít Look At Me!!!"

Itís not my fault that the music you hear on the radio and MTV is, for the most part, mindless crud. Thereís good stuff out there all right, but try telling that to the programmers who put together the play lists. Ryan Adams? Well, at least heís getting airplay now, but why didnít his first solo album get the attention it deserved? And howís come it took the soundtrack to O Brother, Where Art Thou to get music buyers to sit up and take notice of the bluegrass artists they ignored in favor of sellout country hacks like Garth Brooks? People are sheep, plain and simple. And sheep would rather eat grass than listen to something different on an independent label. B-a-a-h.

Give the people what they want. The less Britney wears, the more units she moves - and Iím not just talking about CDs and cassettes. Boy bands? I bet they work a lot harder on their mid sections than their middle eights. And whatís the deal with the whole alternative speed metal hip hop backwards wearing hat movement? Letís see, they sing really loud and fast and theyíre angry because nobody understands them. Well, maybe nobody understands them because theyíre singing really loud and fast! And another thing - YOU KIDS GET THE HELL OUT OF MY YARD!!!

Just thinking out loud here, but I wonder how many annual salaries EMI could pay with the 49 million big ones Virgin Records gave Mariah Carey to lay an egg and go away. Add to that the huge promotional budget they blew on Mick Jaggerís big audio bomb and maybe the house that Frank, Brian and the Beatles built wouldnít have to cut loose 19% of its work force. But what do I know? Iíd rather listen to a remastered and restored version of Get The Knack than hear some diva with big fake hooters show off her five octave range on a crummy dance remix.

TV or not TV? Will & Grace started out as the cute, funny show that was being groomed to become the next center piece of Must See TV, but instead turned into the broadcast equivalent of fingernails on a chalkboard. Malcom in the Middle was the hot quirky show last year, now itís just loud and offensive. Fraiser pooped out but NBC gave Kelsey Grammar a big fat raise anyway because it was easier than trying to come up with something better. And the other night I was channel flipping and was surprised to see that Dharma & Greg was still on the air. I didnít watch it very long, but I swear I saw the actor who plays Greg mouth the words, "Kill me, Iím in hell."

Yes, living dead television on ABC. Shows that seem to go on and on long after thereís a pulse. Like Spin City without Michael J. Fox. Donít blame Charlie Sheen. He doesnít write the scripts. Letís see, a horny womanizer, a horny womanizer wannabe and a gay guy whoís always in heat. I wonder how many lame sex jokes wind up in a sitcom with those kind of characters? And where does Heather Locklear buy the clothes she wears on the show - the office whore supply store?

Are gimmick shows on the way out? Survivor is no longer the ratings juggernaut it once was, often losing out to the "Rachel is pregnant" story line on Friends and desperately trying to rekindle interest by going "back to the beach." Hey, maybe they could get Pee Wee Herman to drop by and sing "Surfiní Bird!" Oh well, at least a show like Survivor makes some sense. Itís just not my cup of tea, I guess. And I wouldnít make fun of it so much if they didnít try to pass it off as "Reality TV." Itís a soap opera game show. The only things real on television are A Few Minutes With Andy Rooney and that one guy who just stands there and paints.

The Weakest Link? That used to be Joe Rogan when he was on News Radio. Now heís hosting Fear Factor and itís only a matter of time before that show takes itís rightful place in the TV Hall of Crap next to Thatís Incredible and Celebrity Challenge of the Sexes. And donít even get me started on The Chair. Hell, the fire and alligators wouldnít make my heart rate go up, but John McEnroe on a big screen TV - now thatís frightening!

Just for the record, there are some shows I actually like. 24. But even I had to wince when they played the amnesia card in a recent episode. Everybody Loves Raymond. But Iím more apt to watch the reruns in syndication than a first run episode. (Itís hard to get through the stuff that comes on before it and if I turn off the TV to listen to music, thereís usually no going back.) Iíve only seen one episode of the new Andy Richter sitcom but based on that it looks like a winner. Címon, the puppy lined suit was hilarious! And David Letterman is still the king of late night TV, but unfortunately late night TV is too late for me until the time changes back.

A strange year for the judicial system. And I donít mean the cast changes on Law & Order. A woman kills her five kids and claims insanity. Well, that goes without saying. And what also goes without saying is sheís guilty. Another woman is mauled to death by two vicious dogs and the owners shrug their shoulders and say, "What us worry?" Also guilty. Go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. And somewhere in England, R.E.M. guitarist Peter Buck faces charges for getting drunk on an airplane and acting like a total goofball. Whatever the verdict, he should consider himself lucky. If he pulled that little stunt after 9/11, the other passengers may have gotten up and beaten him to death.

Meanwhile, no arrest has been made in the Robert Blake murder case. And thatís when you know youíre a real celebrity - when youíre not the victim, you havenít been charged and they still name the case after you. Keep your eye on the sparrow. Or at least the talking cockatoo named Fred.

Sports. Shaq and Kobe arenít fighting this year, so Michael Jordan had to come out of retirement to get anyone to notice the NBA. Baseball has become so boring that Barry Bonds hit 380 home runs last season and still no one paid attention. And quick - can you name the winner of the last Super Bowl? You know, the one played at the beginning of February. Yes, it was the New England Patriots! And for the first one who came up with the correct answer, you win an official Derek Jeter baseball bat autographed by Ruben Rivera!

Anyway, life isnít all bad. Iíve got lots of really great CDs I can play. And I have my books and my poetry to protect me. And I found a site where I can order Chuck Taylors in all sorts of nifty colors. Even tie-dye. And Iíve got the Carmen Electra slide show from the FHM web site bookmarked. And Iíve got sunshine on a cloudy day.

Of course, my real favorite thing right now is DVD. Yes, I love DVD! More than sex even. Iíve got both Sopranos box sets and the first season of The Larry Sanders Show. And a bunch of Woody Allen movies. Four Marx Brothers movies with the Four Marx Brothers. (Yes, all four have Zeppo in them!) Lots of cool music stuff. The Who. Talking Heads. The Rutles. And the very rare and out of print A HARD DAYíS NIGHT!!!! In fact, I bought that one before I even had a DVD player. Yes, I love my DVDs. And when I said I loved them more than sex, I was assuming sex is that thing where two people stand at one end of the lawn and hurl big oversized darts at a plastic hoop lying on the other side of the yard while everybody watching them gets really, really drunk. No, wait thatís Jarts. Another thing I havenít done in a very long time. Sigh.

And so that was Fifty. And what have I done?. Another column over. A new one just begun? I mean, I canít help but wonder if itís all worth it. The countless hours of writing and rewriting, followed by the long proofreading sessions that usually end up with me running naked through the neighborhood screaming, "A colon or a hyphen - I just donít care anymore!!" But why? Certainly not for financial gain? (I lose money.) And is anybody even reading this? (Besides the guy in Yuma who threatened to track me down and smack me around like his bitch for calling Shakira the young manís Charo?)

So itís up to you. The future of LakinLand and this column is in your hands. Send money. Or some words of encouragement. Or, if you really care, a hot babe to play jarts with. Itís a small price to pay for the truth.