2008 Woodie Awards
Prime's Time
Andy Primeau
Issue date: 12/4/04 Section: Viewpoint
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Sometimes in life you have to throw caution to the wind and judge a book by its cover. If we're not supposed to, as the cliché instructs, then what's the point of having book covers at all? Their very existence hinges on pertinently reflecting the content of the books they surround. I mean, it's not as if you'd ever see a picture of Captain Ahab hunting a ham sandwich on the cover of Moby Dick (though, to be fair, I think that would make for a much more interesting novel).
So when the idea of objectively analyzing the obscenely popular teenage angst-fest "The OC" presented itself, I was somewhat skeptical. Could I, a first time viewer, truly go into this task with an open mind, or would my general distaste for everything even remotely associated with this juggernaut of a show prevent it? Could I resist the overwhelming urge to subtitle this article "the OC is terrible and you're wrong to watch it," or would I crumble, and give in to my previous conceptions of this inexplicable phenomenon?
Well, that'll take a miracle, but here goes nothing. On November 11th, I, along with a large number of you (and likely a large number of confused, adolescent girls) spent a solid hour of my life following the dramatic exploits of four California teenagers. What is to follow is the unabridged, unedited, running journal of my thoughts recorded while watching the show for the first time. (It should be noted that I kept this journal in the event that watching the show caused some kind of rupture in the parts of my brain that control rational thought and common sense. At least the world would know my thoughts and feelings leading up to my death at the hands of the FOX Broadcasting Company.)
7:58 - I have decided that the only way to climb inside the mind of an OC viewer is, in fact, to become an OC viewer. With that in mind, over the past hour I have changed into sweatpants, taken over the couch, begun eating large amounts of chocolate, and had long, meaningful discussions with my roommates about why guys never call back. I feel that this is the only way to adequately appreciate or comprehend the show on the level that its voracious fans seem to.
So when the idea of objectively analyzing the obscenely popular teenage angst-fest "The OC" presented itself, I was somewhat skeptical. Could I, a first time viewer, truly go into this task with an open mind, or would my general distaste for everything even remotely associated with this juggernaut of a show prevent it? Could I resist the overwhelming urge to subtitle this article "the OC is terrible and you're wrong to watch it," or would I crumble, and give in to my previous conceptions of this inexplicable phenomenon?
Well, that'll take a miracle, but here goes nothing. On November 11th, I, along with a large number of you (and likely a large number of confused, adolescent girls) spent a solid hour of my life following the dramatic exploits of four California teenagers. What is to follow is the unabridged, unedited, running journal of my thoughts recorded while watching the show for the first time. (It should be noted that I kept this journal in the event that watching the show caused some kind of rupture in the parts of my brain that control rational thought and common sense. At least the world would know my thoughts and feelings leading up to my death at the hands of the FOX Broadcasting Company.)
7:58 - I have decided that the only way to climb inside the mind of an OC viewer is, in fact, to become an OC viewer. With that in mind, over the past hour I have changed into sweatpants, taken over the couch, begun eating large amounts of chocolate, and had long, meaningful discussions with my roommates about why guys never call back. I feel that this is the only way to adequately appreciate or comprehend the show on the level that its voracious fans seem to.