On Veronica Mars
Welcome to Camp Noir
Hi. My name is Lani, and I’m a TV junkie.
I formed my addiction in the seventies, when I took my first hit off shows like The Love Boat, Fantasy Island,
The Partridge Family, and The Brady Bunch. (hey, give me a break. Out of all the shameful skeletons people have locked away in their seventies closets, I think I did pretty well.) in the eighties, I refined my palate a touch. Moonlighting was my drug of choice, with its ace dialogue and, sadly, unparalleled shark jumping. Cheers was my thursday Night Special, and is to this day one of the hands-down funniest shows ever written. And Growing Pains was . . . well. It was Growing Pains. (yeah, yeah, I know. But I was a teenage girl, and it was Kirk cameron. I never stood a chance.) By the time Northern Exposure, Seinfeld, and The X-Files hit the scene, there was no hope for me; I was on the juice but good. (hey, it beat a crack addiction by a country mile. Although crack does come with that awesome weight loss. Eh. Everything’s a tradeoff.)
Anyway, all this to say that, when it comes to TV, I’m your basic whore with a heart of gold: I’ve been around. If the fifties were seen as television’s Golden Age, right now we’re smack in the middle of a platinum one–thank you, Joss Whedon, for kicking that off–and my tiVo and I are likethis. Every year I get my list of new shows …