Plus the parents in their were pretty cool, too.
All they needed was a character named Michele with a thick Long Island accent and this show would be annointed by god himself as not "Cool", but "God-Like Cool." God does that. He commands the Emmys.
An entire show about teenage sex, guns, alcohol, rebels, motorcycles, breaking and entiring, rap music, and cool haircuts.
Gold.
So thank you, Aaron. That was a great show that I will always remember.
So today, if you hear about his death and think he really didn't matter? Think again. He did matter. Donna finally had sex, Tattoo pointed at the plane, and Starsky and Hutch had a really cool car, and you had a smile on his face.
Thank Aaron Spelling.
Thank you Aaron.
RIP -T
Geez. Aaron Spelling. Look at the list of everything he’s ever done and you can really forgive the guy for forcing Tori “Mother, May I Sleep With Danger” Spelling on all of us. I mean, this guy was responsible for the bulk of my television viewing for most of my life.
Yea, I’m into cheesy TV. Hey, we all have our guilty pleasures. At least mine doesn’t involve a girl going blind on a prairie.
I’m going over the list of everything Aaron Spelling was involved in and man, if I didn’t feel sad and humbled to begin with, this sure put me over the edge. Did you know he produced the classic tv movie Boy in the Plastic Bubble? Yeah, dude. John Travolta in a bubble. A story of survival and love in which Travolta and his girl next door ride off on a horse at the end. Sap. Cheese. Campiness. The Aaron Spelling hallmarks.
Jesus. This guy was responsible for more than half my daydreams, fantasies, and ridiculous life goals. I wanted to be a crime fighter with hair like Jill Monroe. I wanted to be as cool as Julie Barnes and as smooth as Linc Hayes. I wanted to sail on the Love Boat and find romance and exchange witty banter with the clever, hip bartender. I wanted to hang out with Huggy Bear and hmm.....no, we're gonna stop there. You really don't need to know what my version of Fantasy Island was like. Just remember that was the late '70s. I was doing a lot of drugs and I can't be held responsible for what may have transpired in my head between the time Tattoo yelled "da plane" and the time I had become a morphed version of Farrah Fawcett and Peggy Lipton, all sultry hair and big tits, yet incredibly cool and smart, and Jim Morrison was sent to my room, gift wrapped.
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