I am so desperately going to miss “Pushing Daisies.”
I still remember sitting at dinner with Len Wein during the San Diego con a couple years ago and he was describing this new series he’d just seen the pilot for. He couldn’t be effusive enough about it. He talked about how it was brilliant and funny and quirky and smart. And it all sounded terrific, and I said so and I meant it, but all I could think was, “No way it lasts.”
This has been a brutal season for shows I was enjoying. “Sarah Conner” got terminated. “Eli Stone” was pulverized. “Reaper” was condemned. “Chuck” barely survived, but God knows what the budget cuts are going to do to it. But somehow the worst was the plucking of “Pushing Daisies.” From Jim Dale’s narrative (I’ve started using “the facts were these” in daily speech) to the whimsical scripts (television has little tolerance for whimsy in the one-hour form) to the brilliant balance of the stellar cast, there was virtually nothing like it on the air. And now there is literally nothing like it on the air.
And I can’t even enjoy Kristen Chenowith in “Legally Mad” since NBC passed on it. I wonder if it was whimsical?
PAD
hree tasks I must complete?” Woeisme asked in a trembling voice. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen. Her mother had won over her father by smelling florally and then brooding over her inherent unworthiness for three straight books. Actually doing something in a non-passive, pro-active style really wasn’t in Woeisme’s blood çûm venom.
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