I know I’ve mentioned that I like “spy” shows (it’s the little, old grandmother in my soul), but did I also mention that I particularly love “old” television? When I moved into my new apartment, I elected not to get cable. Not because of any great plan to do more reading or knitting or thinking, but because cable’s damn expensive and I’m steering this ship by myself now. And so I got Netflix again.
Here’s my thing with Netflix: I really loved it for a while. I got that package where you could rent one DVD at a time and still have instant streaming all for $7.99 (which is a fancy way of saying “eight bucks.” I'm on to you, Netflix!). And so Netflix ran every video store in America into the ground. And then they DOUBLED their prices. They Walmart-ed us, if you will. But we were so in love with the price and the convenience that we allowed it to happen. Oh well.
So I left Netflix, because at the time I did have cable, and I also realized that 90% of my queue was dedicated to lofty films that I’d never end up watching because they were depressing and devoted to themes that were way more important than what my brains can handle. Why did I think I’d ever watch Breaking the Waves or The Piano? I’m not saying they’re bad movies—I’ve been told they’re fantastic. I just would rather watch something more along the lines of Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure or Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? When I sit down for a movie, I like it to be funny and smart or dark or full of dick-and-fart jokes, or some sort of combination of all of these. I really don’t want to cry, reminisce about The Depression or The Holocaust, or be forced to sleep with one eye open. I guess I’m feeble-minded or weak-hearted.
But as I said, I did get Netflix again (only instant stream this time) and now I watch all kinds of spy shows that I didn’t even know were wonderful. My parents introduced me to Get Smart, The Rockford Files, McMillan and Wife and Monk (and I’ve seen pretty much every episode of each of these) and my delightfully irreverent Grandma Millie, clued me in to Murder, She Wrote and Diagnosis Murder. But last night I introduced myself to my new crush: Tom Magnum. That is, I’m now thoroughly ensconced and in love with Magnum: P.I. And all 156 episodes are on Netflix!
|Magnum and the Ferrari.|
For those of you who’ve already discovered (or simply remember) the wonder of this amazing show, please bear with me or feel free to ignore this post. I feel as though my whole life I was walking around like a zombie, not knowing what I did and not caring. And now I can see things clearly. Magnum: P.I. is so good I don’t know how I ever lived without it.
See, so Magnum used to be a member of the Naval Investigation Agency (Office of Naval Investigation in real life) and he realized when he was 33 that he’d never really been 23. He was sent to Vietnam in his early twenties and barely escaped with his life. But he did learn a badass military tactic or two hundred and decided that he’d quit the Navy and enjoy life putting his skills to use working as a private investigator in Hawaii.
But what he does is, see, is he solves crimes and romances women and races his absentee landlord’s Ferrari and says funny things and looks sexy despite having jeans that go up to his nipples and the world’s most famous mustache. I’m looking at you: Tom Selleck. You are one of the most attractive men in the world. In my mind it will always be the 80’s.
|Magnum wearing one of his better ensembles.|
I’ll drop the subject here, but I want to just point out that now I have one more reason to never leave the house/living room/couch. This is both dangerous and sad. Friends, please write or call to make sure I am still alive, because I’m going to be holed up with Magnum (or Tommy, as I like to call him) for months.
*Tom Magnum says this quite a lot on Magnum: P.I. Isn't he witty and clever even without context?