Wednesday, April 1, 2015

The Shit We Watch on Television

I refer, of course, to iZombie.  Which airs on Tuesday evenings on the CW.

Unless you're seventeen, I can't recommend it at all.  But a couple of weeks ago I read a good review and watched the first episode, then the second, and then, last night, the third.  So okay, I'm an idiot.  But I watch high-end stuff too.  Like Foyle's War, which is so excellent I despair at finishing my binge watching (I'm three episodes away from being done).

The point of iZombie is that it's set in Seattle.  Which is fine, in and of itself.  Grey's Anatomy, a vastly inferior show, is also set in Seattle.  So fine.  Except I was watching iZombie last night and the episode was all about a hit-man named Marvin Webster who had killed somebody named Wally Walker.

And then a light came on and I went whoa!  What, I wondered, were the chances of two characters in a CW show about zombies being named for famous Seattle Supersonics?  How big a coincidence is that, I was lying on the sofa asking myself when, all of a sudden, somebody mentioned a third character named Gus Williams.

Another Sonic.  So okay, something is obviously up with these people.  What it is I can't yet say, but I will continue watching, if out of no other reason than duty to you, dear reader, to see how all this unfolds.  And if a couple of characters named Dennis Johnson and Jack Sikma crop up ... well, I'm not sure what I'll do.

For the record, choosing the name Marvin Webster for a character who is a hit man is pretty high-concept stuff, since Webster's nickname was "The Human Eraser."  So extra points there.

Now look at this ...

Wally Walker, one of the greatest Cavaliers, is the third in from the right, face obscured.  Next to him, Mark Iavaroni is hugging, perhaps, Billy Langloh.  If you want to read the story about how I almost played a two on two game with these three guys, click here.  If you'd prefer to stay on this page (out of fear, perhaps, of viruses) then let me direct your eyes into the crowd, at around the ten-thirty/quarter-to-eleven position (were Mr. Walker's head a clock), where you can see my friends Jerry, Dave and Earl.  And of course me, wearing a kind of white-person's version of an afro.

Pretty nice seats.
They were, weren't they?  Try getting those now.

The caption tells you what you need to know, other than I once found myself in a pick-up game with Dave Koesters and blocked one of his shots so hard that, for the briefest of moments, I felt like The Human Eraser.

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