Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Green Acres We are There

The Bear knows that Green Acres was coded by time travelers to tell us, here in the blighted 21st century, everything we need to know.

Oliver Douglas is a New York lawyer who fulfills a life-long dream to leave the big city and become a farmer. He drags his socialite wife Lisa to the bucolic setting of Hooterville, and they try to make a go of it. Ironically, it is the ditzy, game, unflappable Lisa who fits in, not the lawyer turned farmer, Oliver. Oliver has a romanticized idea of farming, and often breaks into little speeches about "the little green shoots," which no one wants to hear.

You see, everyone in Hooterville is one wheel short of a tractor.

The county extension agent can't finish a sentence without contradicting himself. An old couple treat a pig as a child. Twin carpenters can't even hang a door. (No matter how many appearances the carpenters make, the house is in the same incomplete state at the end of the series as at the beginning.)  The Douglases have to climb a pole to use the phone; connecting the last forty feet to the ramshackle farmhouse a seeming impossibility. A peddler always happens to show up with his dubious and overpriced wares just when Oliver happens to need something.

Oliver, the who who  wanted to come here, after all, spends his days in exasperation at the incompetence and sheer weirdness that only he seems to notice. Although Lisa misses her glamorous life in New York City, she fits right in with her gowns and signature marabou trimmed robe.

Hooterville is sort of a first-rate third-world country. It has everything we take for granted, except not quite. The loopy inhabitants have all found their niches and are happy. All except Oliver. The only sane man in a mad world.

The Bear bets you get this. He bets you are Oliver. He bets that you look around and are amazed at the insanity that has engulfed the West. Weirdest of all, you seem to be the only person that notices.

Is the Bear right? When a Muslim shouting Allahu Akbar rampages through Sam Drucker's general store and kills Uncle Joe, the sheriff solemnly announces he is "searching for motives."

Green Acres we are there.


  1. Sing along if you know the tune:

    Green acres is the place for me.
    Farm livin' is the life for me.
    Land spreadin' out so far and wide.
    Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside.
    New York is where I'd rather stay.
    I get allergic smelling hay.
    I just adore a penthouse view.
    Dah-ling I love you but give me Park Avenue.

    The chores.
    The stores.
    Fresh air.
    Times Square

    You are my wife.
    Good bye, city life.
    Green Acres we are there.

    1. I always thought it was FUN living, not farm! wow.

      I certainly know the tune, and I probably laugh ten times each episode. My dad had a little crush on Ava, not to be confused with Zsa Zsa. She was so cute! They were all hilarious, but you have to be of a certain mindset to get it, I'm glad to be of that mindset.
      The more I see tv today, the more I realize I need to purchase more old dvd's of shows like these. The writing was great, actually humorous and funny, not like today's swill.

  2. Oliver's episodic patriotic rants are endured in polite, baffled silence. He is a lonely idealist beset by cheerful, unprincipled pragmatists.

  3. And a good metaphor for the Catholic Church as it does it's ecumenical farming.

  4. Thanks for planting this song so firmly in my head. Grrrrr...

  5. Reading the PBXVI latest comments make me feel like I'm trapped in an elevator with Mr. Haney.

  6. Thanks for the good laugh this morning!

  7. Actually, I feel a bit more like Winston Smith in Oceana.
    Except, the line "Oceana has always been at war with Eurasia" is now "It's always been possible for divorced and remarried to have communion". 2+2 = ?

  8. As a small child I used to love Green Acres and Petticoat Junction.


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