ALF Reviews: “Changes” (season 3, episode 9)

Well, we’re back…and just in time for a pretty important episode in the history of ALF. Not because people remember it fondly (or at all…I certainly didn’t) but because it has an actual job to do. “Changes” must shoulder more responsibility than any episode before it, barring the pilot: it needs to introduce Anne Schedeen’s real life pregnancy.

In any other episode, ALF could spin its wheels. There’s no real serialization here, and like most sitcoms this one comes with a press of the big reset button at the end of every episode. That means that very few of them have long-term impacts on the narrative of the show.

This, in itself, is not a weakness, but I point it out now to contrast the role of “Changes.” In any other episode, ALF just needs to make us laugh. (Ostensibly.) Here, it needs to go further, because, like it or not, Kate’s going to look pregnant for the next few episodes, and we’ve got to address it somehow. (Of course many readers here have already mentioned that Kate was showing. I didn’t notice this, because I only pretend to be observant.)

This could actually shock the writing staff out of their weekly stupor. Instead of writing a script in which ALF becomes an underpants model because why the fuck not who cares, they have definitive direction here. There’s a big announcement that they need to build toward, and while that might bind the creativity of funnier people, with these bozos such specific instructions are likely to help.

And it actually opens pretty well. For the first time in what feels like forever (and maybe is actually forever) the short intro scene is actually…well, short. It’s punchy. And while it’s not funny, strictly speaking, it creates an effective illusion of being so.

It’s under a minute long, and the entire joke is that ALF keeps asking if he can eat Willie’s meatloaf since Willie’s not home yet.

That’s all.

Again, not funny on its own, but this scene demonstrates quite well how an effective rhythm can make comedy pop. Comedy isn’t not all about the writing…it’s about the performances and the direction. And those things actually work here. A very simple joke which would probably have been overwroght and belabored in some lesser episodes is given exactly as much time as it needs, and that’s it. The repeated specificity of “meatloaf” rather than “dinner” or “food” helps a great deal as well.

It’s not rocket science. In fact, it’s probably not the product of anything deeper than one of the writers realizing that “meatloaf” is a funny word. But it clicks in the right way, and it’s not as though a show’s opening joke needs to be its strongest. All it really needs to do is convince you to keep watching, and based on this alone you’d be forgiven for thinking that the staff of ALF had some idea of comic timing.

Then Willie comes home, announces that “the union” is going on strike — ah yes, the legendarily powerful social workers’ union — and that’s it.

But…it’s okay that that’s it.

A good joke, a hint of the plot, and the intro credits. This is dangerously efficient.

And, yes, it convinces me to keep watching. Good on you, “Changes.”

ALF, "Changes"

After the credits, we see Willie and Kate in bed, and I have to conclude that he’s grateful to the strike for giving him a reason to bitch all night instead of fucking his wife.

Kate turns to him and offers her support. Man, she must get tired of being the only person in the universe who acts like a caring human being.

Willie says he can’t sleep, and expresses concern about all the people who rely on social workers that won’t be getting the help they need. You know, help like Willie making fun of them for having too many kids, and abducting undocumented Mexicans.

Kate, as a wife, is great here. She really is. She’s a person. She has emotions, and empathy, and a capacity for rational thought. I don’t know how she so often escapes the writers’ best attempts to reduce her to a generic cutout like the rest of her family, but she does, and that’s why I feel the need to compliment her so often.

In fact, this episode is a great showcase for Schedeen, as it should be. She doesn’t get quite as much of the spotlight as I would like (that is to say, she gets LESS THAN ALL OF IT), but when a show like ALF spends time with the one character who is a character, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

Kate expresses her support for her husband, and lets him know that they will find a way to make ends meet during the strike. She assuages his concerns about social services shutting down by explaining that innocent people suffer in all strikes, and that’s not his fault. If he’s ultimately making things better for the people he serves, then he’s doing the right thing.

Willie responds by saying, “I think I can sleep now!!!”

The audience loves that punchline, but I don’t even get it. Was he bored by his wife’s understanding and supportiveness?

Fuck the fuck off, Willie. I’m starting to understand why you’re named after a dick.

Seriously, guys. He woke her up because he was troubled. He was losing sleep, so she gave up her own sleep to comfort him. She tries to keep him from worrying, and promises that if she needs to make sacrifices so that he can have his candy-ass strike, she’ll do it. And he just rolls his eyes until he decides it’s time for her to shut up, because that’s how you treat a wife.

Ugh. Actual, serious ugh.

Also, after however many fucking raises and promotions Willie’s had, he talks about the strike being necessary because he deserves “fair compensation.”

So, yeah. According to the show, this asshole who has never once been good at his job and has often been shown to be actively horrible at it (remember, we last saw evidence of his approach to social work when he threatened to stab a hobo to death in his garage) still isn’t making enough money.

The fucking christ almighty.

ALF, "Changes"

Then ALF comes in because of course he does.

There’s a funny joke when he says he’s worried about the strike, too, and he has a five-word suggestion: “Willie gets another job.”

Yes, we get the joke, and no, we don’t need Willie to say, “That’s four words…” but he does anyway, and it leads to a second gag in ALF’s reply: “Good. I ran out of fingers.”

It’s not often that a good line gets compounded into a better one, so I’ll take this, even if it comes at the tail end of Willie trying to convince us that Kate is a meddling shrew because she loves him and wants what’s best for the family.

Actually, this little exchange is a good microcosm of “Changes” as a whole: a lot of crap, but a few really, truly nice moments and lines. There’s about five minutes’ worth of good material in this episode, which is about seven minutes more than most episodes have.

Kate volunteers to get a job, which I think is the first time that idea has ever been floated on this show, even though ALF’s decimated their finances a thousand times over and prevented their daughter from going away to college. As soon as she floats the idea of employment, Paul Fusco laughs himself silly. Since the laughter could also kind of make sense coming from ALF, the editors left it in.

I really don’t like it when this show rags on Kate. At all.

It’s not because I’m protective of her character — god knows it’s flimsier than I’d like to believe it is — but because of why they rag on her. Instead of making jokes at the expense of, say, her anal retentiveness, her strict rules, or her seething hatred of everything her life has become, we seem to instead get jokes about the fact that she’s a woman. Which is why she’d better wake up when Willie needs her, and then shut up when Willie’s sick of her. And why “I’ll get a job!” is inherently a joke.

She’ll get a job? No she won’t. She has a vagina. She’ll stay put, just like she’s supposed to.

I’m not a fan of the way women are treated in this show. And I say this as a truly awful man.

Kate explains to ALF that she used to sell real estate. She left when she got pregnant with Lynn, then went back and left again when she got pregnant with Brian. She was going to return again to work, but then they got ALF.

This causes ALF to bring up the idea of adopting him officially. Obviously they can’t do that and the whole conversation is a bit of a waste of time, but I do like that ALF asks at one point, “Doesn’t it bother you that I don’t carry the Tanner name?” And Willie replies without lifting his head from the pillow, “No.”

The adoption idea actually runs throughout the episode, with characters mentioning it at various points, making it feel like a nice touch. Of course, the episode doesn’t do anything with it, but the fact that it serves as the episode’s refrain means that somebody, at least, put some thought into this, and made a creative decision.

There’s an even better moment at the end of the scene, when ALF says he’s worried that if Kate returns to work, nobody will be around to take care of him. Willie says, “ALF, you’re 231 years old. You should be able to take care of yourself by now.”

ALF replies, “You’d think so, wouldn’t you.”

“Changes” is so damn close to being a good episode that it hurts.

ALF, "Changes"

At some later point ALF is watching TV. Brian comes in, and ALF doesn’t even look away from the screen to greet him, which pretty much sums up the kid’s role in the show at this point.

Brian at least justifies his appearance in this scene, though, because he sets up a legitimate laugh. When he sees that ALF is just flipping through the channels rapidly, he asks, “Doesn’t that make you dizzy?”

ALF responds with “Yeah!”

Moments like this, marooned in the mire of what’ll turn out to be a largely forgettable (and at times disgusting) episode, remind me of what the writing staff is capable of. There are so many good things peppered throughout “Changes” that it becomes frustrating that there aren’t more of them…and that other episodes have none of them.

These minor flashes not of greatness but of competence, of understanding, of coherence, are maddening, because they suggest a much higher baseline for the show than we’re actually getting. The writing staff is more concerned with beating rush hour traffic than they are with writing the best script possible. And that’s sad, because when they try, they show they can do it. And if they tried more often, they might get pretty good at it.

ALF, "Changes"

Willie comes home with a picket sign that says ON STRIKE. That’ll teach ’em, Willie!!

He sits down on the couch and immediately settles in to go to sleep. So, just to put this into perspective for you, one day of standing around with a sign has tuckered this guy out more than any given day doing actual social work. That should put into perspective just how good at his job he really is.

ALF asks about the strike, and when Willie starts to explain the concept to him, ALF says, “Let me get comfortable,” and then asks for a bunch of shit, wiggles around, pops his knuckles and his neck…and it just keeps going. It’s fucking awful.

After Willie says whatever the hell he says — I’m not sure I’ve ever made it through two consecutive Max Wright sentences without falling asleep — ALF waxes nostalgic about when Kate used to be around…feeding him, following him around with a johnny mop.

And yes, he actually said that Kate would follow him around with a johnny mop. So my exaggerated jokes about ALF shitting all over the house? Not jokes, apparently. Actually just pretty astute.

Then, when ALF concludes his revelry, he says, “Now she’s dead.”

And, okay, that was actually really funny.

It keeps going, too. Willie says that Kate might want a little more out of life than swabbing alien shit out of her family’s living space, and ALF says, “Why? If it ain’t broke, don’t step on it.”

Willie says, “Fix it,” and ALF says, “Fix what?”

A lousier episode would have stopped there, with the laughter of dead people assuring us that this was much funnier than we’d otherwise think. But then Willie explains, “The expression is, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

To which ALF replies, after thinking for a moment, “Why would you?”

I’m…amazed. Two characters sitting in a room having a conversation, and it is actually, for the most part, funny. That’s a serious rarity for this show.

ALF, "Changes"

In the next scene we get an establishing shot of Kate’s workplace, which I assume is called EE Realty Co. Either that or they made sure to film someone else’s sign from an angle that wouldn’t require them to pay anyone. COULD BE EITHER.

Kate has an unconvincing breakdown over how much there is that she needs to learn, because she’s been away so long. It’s kind of lousy, but I do like the way she and her coworker bond over it briefly. It’s true to life. The coworker is just a nondescript woman with long black hair, and I honestly don’t even remember if she’s given a name, but she and Schedeen have a nice chemistry together that suggests a longer history than the writing does.

One problem I have with it, though, is that as soon as we see Kate at work, she’s floundering. It’s exactly like Willie’s first day at his new job in “Movin’ Out.” Why are the Tanners always totally incompetent right off the bat? Why do they keep getting re-hired and promoted? I love Kate, but nothing about her behavior in this episode supports the idea that she’d be hired three times by this agency.

Why can’t we see them doing good work for at least for a moment before they reveal themselves to be dangerously unqualified to leave the house? It might require a little more effort on the part of the writing, but, hey, call me crazy, I think it might still be a good idea. If anything it would give us something like progression of character, rather than an abrupt shift to a new scene that might as well have HERE’S WHAT’S FUCKING HAPPENING NOW stamped across it in subtitle.

Anyway, ALF calls, because this is ALF, and if we aren’t seeing or hearing ALF we might be confused about what show we’re watching.

Which…is a valid concern, actually, come to think of it. We’re three seasons in and he’s still the only recognizable character, so maybe he does need to pop up every thirty seconds to stave off audience confusion.

There’s a less funny (but still not bad) reprise of the conversation with Willie, with ALF mixing up a different idiom, and then it’s over. Which is good, because now that he’s gone we’ll get to see more of Kate in the workplace and…

ALF, "Changes"

Oh.

Uh, nevermind. We’re just going to listen to ALF crack wise in the kitchen, because God forbid this episode end up focusing on something specific and isn’t just a collection of disconnected ALF routines.

It’s a scene of Willie cooking dinner, with all of his ingredients on a table across the room for some unknowable reason. Brian reveals that he doesn’t know what a garlic press looks like, which is where that much beloved running joke began (by season four it’ll be a weekly tradition for Brian to enter a room and say, “Hey! What’s-a the gahr-lic press??” to rapturous applause).

Then there is an admittedly good line when Willie talks about the pasta primavera he’s making, and after he describes the sauce, ALF says, “But I like the sauce Kate opens.”

So, yes, I’m definitely down on most of the Kate-shitting in this show, and on the surface this is no different (seriously, why does nobody on this show appreciate the one person in the universe who Gets Shit Done?), but the turn of phrase in ALF’s reply, which is delivered perfectly, makes this worth it. The fact that it’s an actual joke — as opposed to a reminder that Kate is a member of the inferior gender — no doubt contributes to its success.

Of course, we can’t end the scene there, what with it being a funny line that also ties into the general plot. No, instead ALF has to ask what a certain vegetable is, so that Willie can say, “Radicchio,” and ALF can reply, “The whole idea of you cooking is radicchio!”

It’s a joke that works better when spoken than in print, and it doesn’t really work when spoken either. But, hey, we have the recorded laughter of dead strangers to create the illusion that something funny happened.

Then Lynn comes in, and we get a whole new attempt at defining a character for her: she’s a feminist warrior. Why? Who fuckin’ cares. She’s Jessie Spano now…and only now. She’ll walk off stage shortly and transmogrify into somebody else yet again.

I…god. At this point I have so much to say about Lynn, but the season is still young, and lord knows what I have yet to endure. I’ll save it for the Character Spotlight, because holy buttfuck this character jesus.

She announces that she stayed after school to protest cheerleading practice…which is odd. I thought she was in college now, but this suggests she’s not, and later in the episode ALF specifically mentions that she’s still in high school. So not only can the show not agree on who she is as a person, but it can’t agree on how old she is or what stage of life she’s in. They really, really couldn’t make it any more obvious that they don’t care about this character, could they?

It was some kind of protest, she explains, about women always being spectators or who cares. No offense to feminism, and I’m sure I could find the ghost of a good point in there, but since we’re never going to see this character trait again I’m not getting invested.

It seems as though there might have been the germ of something smart here. Since Willie is on strike, maybe Lynn could have been inspired to launch this poorly-considered protest of her own. One with good intentions, surely, but which falls apart when she gets the ear of the school (or her classmates) and has to reveal that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about; she just did it for the sake of doing it.

It would have been a nice way to inject some personal, human stakes into this story. Willie’s little sabbatical isn’t just affecting his family in terms of their finances, but in terms of their attitudes, and in terms of their approaches to solving problems. He’s Lynn’s father, and whatever he’s doing, for whatever better or worse, she’s learning from him.

Perhaps Willie’s cause isn’t worth fighting for. Or perhaps it is, but he’s failed to demonstrate the difference between a good cause and a poor one to his children. This is a chance, for the first time in a long-ass time, for Willie to stop being a guy who recites lines from a cue card and start being a father.

But instead we just throw salad on Lynn and move on.

ALF, "Changes"

GREAT SHOW DUDES

In the next scene, Kate walks in on ALF masturbating in front of the shrine he built to her.

ALF, "Changes"

Bet you thought I was kidding, huh?

It’s a bunch of pictures he took of her when she wasn’t looking, and together they joke about him getting photos of her wearing lingerie, and, oh! how they laugh.

Why she doesn’t beat SPEWEY to death with a rake here and now is beyond me. Instead she tries to cheer him up by explaining that she likes working, and it’s okay if he feels a little lonely now and then because he’s still part of the family, and Anne Schedeen delivers all of this just fine but holy fuck is it unnerving to have this heartwarming speech unfold while the shrine to ALF’s voyeurism is still in frame.

Then Willie comes in and literally wraps up his entire plot by saying, “Good news! The strike’s over.”

Well, that sure was pointless. Why did the episode have him strike at all? If Kate had already been planning to go to work anyway, then this wasn’t necessary at all. And now it ends without fanfare or explanation. Willie’s happy, I guess, but since I don’t know any of his coworkers, or his clients, or what his working conditions were like, and all I ever see is Willie fucking off on the couch, why should I care?

Was he a freedom fighter or an obstinate pig? Based on what I’ve actually seen in the show, I can’t answer that. And that’s a problem.

In fact, if I weren’t writing a novel about this episode, I probably wouldn’t even remember at this point that there was a strike. Oh well. Willie says, “Good news! C-plot’s over.” And we know that this garbage is at least winding down.

ALF, "Changes"

Then we get the moneyshot. Kate announces she’s pregnant.

And…it’s kind of pretty good! She comes home from work and alludes to the previous two times she had to leave her job. Willie’s not looking at her, focusing instead on doing his taxes, just like when they have sex. This leaves ALF free to silently figure out what Kate’s hinting at, and Paul Fusco — as is almost always the case — does some great puppet work with that.

I can’t stress enough how good a puppeteer Fusco is. As critical as I am of the other facets of his (apparent) personality, I’m genuinely impressed by how much mileage he gets out of his puppet’s largely static features. He’s very, very good at what he does, and with better writers he could have been remembered much more fondly today.

Eventually ALF says, “Willie, you fuckbag, your wife is pregnant for shit’s sake.” Willie stands up and hugs Kate, overcome with joy at the fact that he now has evidence of all three times he’s gotten laid.

They call the kids into the room to announce the good news, and there’s some legitimately good acting from Andrea Elson, who seems genuinely happy and surprised. Being as Anne Schedeen was actually pregnant here, and given how close these two seem to have been in real life, I’m content — and happy — to believe that Elson was channeling what she actually felt when she found out her costar was pregnant. Either way, she’s great here.

It’s nice. It really is. Brian makes it clear that he doesn’t know what sex is any more than he understands the garlic press, but aside from that dud, this is a nice scene, buoyed by the easy mother-daughter chemistry that Schedeen and Elson have.

Right now I’m willing to say that it’s a massive, massive shame these two don’t get more to do together. They’re the only pairing of characters that I believe want anything to do with each other.

ALF, "Changes"

Then we’re back at the office, where Kate and her colleague bond over their experiences with morning sickness. Just like their previous conversation, there’s a kind of effortlessness between the two that suggests a real friendship. Schedeen really doesn’t get the credit she deserves, because freed from the idiots she usually shares the screen with, she reveals herself to be quite good. Man oh man did she deserve a better sitcom…

ALF calls up just to tell her he misses her, which is fine. It’s not bad, but I also don’t give a shit. Then the scene ends and…

…huh.

I thought Kate was going to quit again.

I mean, I’m sure she does, but not in this episode? Maybe she’ll actually work this job for a while. That’d be fine, since she said she’s only one month into the pregnancy, but it also seems like a bit of a departure for ALF to allow such a significant change in what a character does from week to week.

Having said that, I hope she does keep working here. It’ll be nice to see her interacting with someone who at least appears to be from Earth, and it could open up new plotlines as well. I’m curious. And clearly setting myself up for disappointment.

ALF, "Changes"

In the short scene before the credits, Willie attempts to talk to Brian about sex.

If the thought of Max Wright talking to his TV son about how the engorged genital shaft of an aroused man penetrates the meat vacuum of an unfortunate woman isn’t off-putting enough, Brian then says that ALF already told him all about it.

So, yeah, for those of you who enjoy ALF at his most sex offensive, here you go. He provided detailed descriptions of the reproductive process to a little boy when there was nobody else in the house. Yet another great inroad for your creepy Uncle Ticklebeard.

Willie then goes to thank ALF for saving him the trouble (which in itself is an admittedly nice twist, as we’d expect him to maybe yell at the guy who he just found out has been engaging in secret sex talk with his grade-school son), and ALF says that he doesn’t think Brian understood the part about “releasing the pods.”

So, there you have it, folks. We end the entire episode on the hilarious reveal that a preteen doesn’t quite grasp the concept of ejaculation, despite a pedophile’s many enthusiastic attempts to teach it to him.

And on that bombshell…I’M BACK MOTHERFUCKERS

ALF Reviews: “SPEWEY and Me” (Get a Life season 2, episode 11)

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

Many times while writing these ALF reviews, I’m reminded of an episode Get a Life that aired shortly after my birthday in 1992. I was eleven.

“SPEWEY and Me” was the antepenultimate episode of the show, but I didn’t know that at a time. In the few short years between my love of ALF (which ended in 1990) and my love of Get a Life, my comic sensibilities must have changed drastically.

As much as I can pull it apart now — which, I hope you all realize, is exaggerated for effect — I can see pretty easily why I loved ALF as a kid. For starters, it was a puppet show. I already loved the Muppets, and while the Henson legacy has infinitely outstripped Paul Fusco’s, I didn’t care about that as a kid.

The Muppets had better characters, better actors, better writers, better everything, really. But that’s something I only came to realize much later, through a more mature perspective. When I was a kid, I liked them because they were silly puppets.

ALF, too, was a silly puppet. He had his own catchphrases and recognizable schtick, and that’s all I really cared about, I guess. I don’t know if I ever actually laughed at his antics (which is such a bizarre thing to realize), but I loved the hairy asshole.

AND I ALSO LOVED ALF.

I don’t remember when I stopped watching ALF, but I know I made it through season three. I don’t know for a fact that I tuned in for season four, but, either way, the same year ALF ended, Get a Life premiered. I immediately fell in love with this little-remembered, post-modern oddity, at least partially because it was so different from anything I’d ever seen. Whereas ALF ingratiated itself by way of my love of the Muppets, Get a Life stormed in from an alternate universe, wrecked up the place, and disappeared. It was an experience all its own…not always a great one, but always new and exciting.

“SPEWEY and Me” is an episode I remember fondly. I saw it the night it premiered, and continue to laugh about it to this day. It’s a partial pastiche of ALF, which makes it relevant enough for this little April Fool’s Day entry in the larger series, but it also manages to do ALF better than ALF did. I think that deserves some serious comparison…and a little bit of tribute.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

The episode opens as ALF does, with an alien crashing to earth. It’s worth pointing out, however, that Get a Life was not a sci-fi comedy. Rather, if it was a direct parody of anything as a whole, it’s the 1950s family sitcom. The setup was the same…in an American suburb, a mischievous but well-meaning boy explores life and learns weekly lessons from his parents along the way.

Only here the boy was 30 years old, his parents were senile and uncaring, and whatever lessons he learned often resulted in his death. This was before South Park, by the way. Matt Stone and Trey Parker weren’t the first writers to murder a main character on a regular basis.

Get a Life was way ahead of its time…something that shouldn’t surprise you when you find out that its writing room contained David Mirkin, Charlie Kaufman, Bob Odenkirk, Adam Resnick, Marjorie Gross, and Chris Elliott, the latter of which also starred. It’s this crew of tremendous talent that steered Get a Life through incredible genre shifts. Nowadays, in the wake of Spaced, Community, and almost anything on Adult Swim, genre shifts are just something that brainy shows do. But in 1990, a multi-camera sitcom unexpectedly drifting into horror, romance, police procedural, inner-city inspiration porn, or science fiction (to name only a few) was thrilling to behold.

If you tuned into any other prime-time network show, you’d know what to expect. In fact, that’s why you’d have been turning in. But Get a Life elevated tonal schizophrenia to an artform, and there was no telling what rules the show would introduce from week to week. It was incredible.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

“SPEWEY and Me” informs you right from the start what it’s set out to do. Chris Peterson — the closest thing this show could possibly have to a hero — surveys the wreckage and wonders aloud if it contains “a cute, wooly creature with a caustic wit, like ALF, or Ray Walston.”

The very fact that this show was doing a deliberately sardonic spin on another show (and a few other alien-related pop-culture touchpoints) was novel. It’s the sort of thing that shows like Family Guy and Robot Chicken have cheapened beyond repair, with lazy references and wholesale scene recreations subbing in for insight or cleverness, but at the time this was really rare. Sketch comedy trafficked in direct parody, and a few experiments like Police Squad! took one avenue of satire and stuck to it, but the scattershot approach of Get a Life was very, very much its own beast.

It carved out an identity for itself that somehow still defied definition. Anyone who remembers the show today remembers it vividly, I’m sure, because however old they were, they’d never seen anything like it.

To illustrate what a magical time this was for television, Get a Life ran new episodes on the same night (and the same channel) as the still-young Simpsons and the unapologetically caustic Married…with Children. Sunday night prime-time was incredible, with these shows breaking all kinds of new ground, back to back, on a weekly basis.

Watching these shows now, after the fact, it’s hard to feel the impact that they had when they were fresh. These were shows that felt dangerous, and exciting. But if you were there? Brother, you’ll never forget it.

New territory was being charted. Rules were breaking. Things that weren’t funny at all were the funniest things in the world. And for weeks after “SPEWEY and Me” made its debut, my friends and I quoted it endlessly. For perhaps the first time, satire had gotten around to taking on things we knew. And growing up with (and then outgrowing) ALF made the inappropriate laughter this episode inspired feel that much more cathartic.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

Chris recovers the alien and takes it inside to return it to health. So far, so ALF pilot. He gushes for a moment about how exciting it is to learn that “there is life in outer space. And it’s really foxy!”

We’ll…get into Chris’s character later. For now, it’s funny enough to consider that comment as we get our first good look at SPEWEY: a hideous, snarling, distended, veiny beast. I’d be shocked if Get a Life had anywhere near the budget of ALF, but it has to be said that whomever was given the instruction to create the physical opposite of every lovable alien in the history of entertainment did one hell of a great job.

SPEWEY shares the acronymous nature of his name with ALF, which itself was certainly a hat-tip toward E.T.’s initialism. The title of this episode further nods toward Mac and Me, a toxically awful knockoff of Spielberg’s legendary hit. While Mac himself was one terrifying little fuck, he was a product of unintentional horror. SPEWEY is far more deliberately disturbing, and his appearance is therefore, I believe, intended to be E.T.’s picture of Dorian Gray.

One thing I really like about this episode now is that it marries (at least in title) E.T. to Mac and Me…the only time in all of recorded history that anyone’s acknowledged these two films as equals in any way.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

In a not-unexpected homage, SPEWEY extends one finger to Chris, who waxes on about what a magical moment this is. In an excellent bit of dodging Standards and Practices, the decision to give SPEWEY only three fingers means that he’s also flipping Chris off.

As the touching music builds, Chris extends his own finger…which SPEWEY grabs, bites, and chews. Then he shoves Chris over and begins attacking him, concluding the cold open with an extended attempt at strangulation.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

It’s hilarious. And as much as it undercuts the expected trope of the friendly visitor from outer space, it also makes actual, perfect sense.

Whatever this creature’s intentions, whatever its nature, whatever its history…it’s on a new planet, surrounded by unfamiliar everything, and it’s going to be scared out of its fucking mind.

SPEWEY is aggressive, which is one possible way that an extra-terrestrial might deal with its new surroundings. (Y’know…if the whole of human history is to serve as a case study.) E.T. was fearful and reluctant. Mac engaged in a protracted dance-off with Ronald McDonald. ALF…made a bunch of hacky jokes. Of those, ALF’s response is probably the least likely.

But it’s not just that ALF himself wasn’t worried / sad / afraid / lonely / defensive / threatened / confused, it’s that the family wasn’t either. A gigantic, sentient space rodent lives with them now. A matter of minutes ago, none of them even knew alien life existed. The net change in their demeanors? A massively disappointing zero.

Willie even goes so far as to strip naked in front of ALF a few hours after he crashes into the garage. And before that, they leave him unsupervised in the house overnight with their children sleeping a few feet away. There’s no worry, and, sure enough, ALF doesn’t attack or give them space measles or anything. (They weren’t vaccinated against those, as the Tanners were good parents and didn’t want to inject their kids with space autism.) Okay.

But Willie had no way of knowing that that would be the case. ALF being an intergalactic warm-up comedian is fine, because we don’t know anything about aliens. Willie being a naked, doddering idiot is not, because we know an awful lot about humans, and he’s not acting anything like one.

Here, both tables are turned. SPEWEY attacks, which is fine. Chris continues throughout the assault to declare how magical the experience is, because he’s a fucking idiot, and Get a Life knows it.

That’s the big difference. I talk a lot in the ALF reviews about that show’s lack of self-awareness. When Willie acts like a dope it’s frustrating, because the show doesn’t realize he’s a dope. As far as ALF is concerned, Willie’s an intelligent, hard-working, loving, responsible man. What we see in the audience doesn’t match up at all, but that doesn’t make it funny…it just means we’re watching a pile of shit.

Get a Life also stars an idiot, but it’s aware of that fact. Actually, it’s the show’s most consistently mined source of humor. The disparity between the way Chris views the world around him and the way we view it is funny. The audience is a necessary part of the joke, and it requires us to do some work of our own.

Chris Peterson speaking with awe about the majesty of the universe isn’t inherently funny. But when we contrast the monologue we’re hearing with the scene we’re viewing, in which he’s being horribly bludgeoned by a spacemonster, it becomes a joke. And a great one.

Get a Life tips us off early (in every episode) that Chris’s perspective is not reliable. ALF also tips us off to a similar fact about its characters, but it does so unintentionally, and it hopes we don’t notice.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

The intro credits to this show are so nostalgic to me. To this day I can’t hear R.E.M.’s “Stand” without seeing the bicycle wheels spinning, and I love that. It’s such a perfect image…so playful and yet so absurd.

Speaking of which…imagine how awesome it must have been to have an R.E.M. song as your opening theme. That’s a hell of a coup. And the band itself played a role in preserving this show’s legacy. For a long time, reruns of Get a Life used royalty-free library music because the networks couldn’t afford the rights to “Stand.” The same financial roadblock was hit when the show was finally being prepped for a DVD release a few years ago. Apparently someone involved with the production reached out to R.E.M. and informed them of the situation. R.E.M. responded by drastically reducing their licensing fee so that Get a Life could be released intact. That’s really wonderful.

In case you’re not aware of the premise, the intro spells out a few things for you. For one, your hero is a paperboy…even though he’s clearly too old to be one. He’s on a bike, so presumably he doesn’t drive. He throws his papers playfully, implying a childlike silliness. He passes an old woman who hands him a cup of water that he then splashes in his face like a marathon runner…the kind of throwaway / visual gag that episodes will be full of. He then tosses a newspaper at his attractive neighbor so she’ll have to bend to retrieve it (his mischievousness getting a spotlight), and he painfully collides with a car while he’s leering…but gets up okay. That last bit does a great job of showing us that Chris bring in extreme pain will be a regular punchline…but that it’s okay, because he seems to respond to injury like a cartoon.

That’s the character, the setting, and the comic atmosphere set up in just a few seconds of screentime. Compare that to ALF‘s overlong credits sequence that tells us only who’s in the show, and that ALF intended to record his sexual assault of Kate in the shower.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

The next morning Chris awakens alone, and concludes aloud that the events of last night must have just been “a beautiful dream.” SPEWEY then drops onto his chest from a hilariously exaggerated height and continues to beat the everloving crap of out him.

At one point Chris offers him the telephone so that he can “phone home.” SPEWEY immediately integrates the blunt instrument into his beatings, and Chris sadly tells him, “I don’t know what that means. Do you want me to dial for you?”

The show, obviously, knows Chris is an idiot, and is having fun with it. The sheer length of time that Chris Elliott carries on in a sunny sing-song while he’s being pounded is in itself a joke…and a very committed one. (There’s no way Chris the actor didn’t sustain at least a few accidental blows to the head and face while portraying Chris the character.)

His brainless reluctance to acknowledge the singular, central fact of SPEWEY — that the alien is an obnoxious, dangerous creature that he’d be wise to stay away from — reflects the Tanner family’s similar idiocy. Only ALF, in spite of all the obnoxious danger, wants us to love the alien. Get a Life, though it’s by far the sillier show, cuts out the bullshit and treats the concept more seriously.

SPEWEY eventually emits a stream of murky vomit into Chris’s face…a gesture Chris assumes is a greeting. He responds by spitting lightly on SPEWEY, who then beats even more crap out of him.

The joke isn’t so much the mindless brutality — though it is, admittedly, mindless — but rather the impressive thickness of Chris’s delusions. It’s one thing to remain detached from reality; it’s something much more severe when being on the receiving end of repeated physical violence doesn’t clue you in to the fact that something’s amiss.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

Chris brings SPEWEY (under a sheet, in a nod to E.T. which doubles as an unintentional reminder of ALF, which saw the cold-cocked alien being lugged into the house wrapped in one) inside to meet Gus.

Chris moved in with Gus — played by the always incredible Brian Doyle-Murray — in season two. Prior to that he was still living with his parents, who kept him at least moderately grounded in reality. Season two retained his parents as characters (though not in this episode, sadly…I’d love to have seen what Bob Elliott would have made of SPEWEY), but changed the living situation, which allowed Chris and his adventures to drift further into the realm of the absurd.

Whereas his parents at least paid lip service to being supportive of their idiotic son, Gus is an actively bad influence upon him (in Chris’s own words in another episode, “You’re the drunk and abusive papa I never had.”), and while the two do share a few moments of genuine friendship, it’s clear that Gus would lose no sleep whatsoever if Chris suddenly died. (Again.)

Get a Life never got a season three, but David Mirkin said in an interview that it would have seen Chris moving out of Gus’s house and becoming a sort of wandering drifter. This would have provided further leeway for less-grounded storytelling.

Mind you, I’m talking about less-ground storytelling while reviewing an episode about a thirty-year-old paperboy being assaulted by a monster from space.

Anyway, Chris removes the blanket to introduce Gus to the interstellar marvel, and SPEWEY immediately sprints to the old man and starts beating him up as well.

Gus has the presence of mind to shove the alien away, and even doubts that it’s an alien at all. “Kid, I hate to disappoint you,” he says, “but this is just that sick kid from down the block. He must have gotten out of his bubble.”

It’s a joke — with a perfect delivery, I have to add — but it taps into something that the Tanners’ first experience of ALF totally lacked: dubiousness.

That’s not to say that an obnoxious, hideous midget crashing in your back yard should lead in any way to the conclusion that it’s a terminally ill child…but it is to say that in the face of some completely unknown presence, wouldn’t you question it rather than jump immediately to a solid conclusion?

In ALF’s case, as in SPEWEY’s, there’s the wreckage of a spacecraft. But how do we know it’s a spacecraft? Could this be some kind of prank? Is it, as Dr. Orpheus would ask, a guy in a mask messing with you?

And why a traveler from space? Isn’t it exactly as likely — in the absence of any evidence of extra-terrestrial life — that this is a traveler from another time? Or another dimension?

Is it a monster? A mutant? A demon? It’s equally likely to be any of those, and statistically speaking it’s more likely to be hostile than docile.

Willie declares the origin (and new name) of this creature before it even wakes up and starts telling jokes about Melmac, and he ends up being exactly right. Wow, what are the odds?

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

SPEWEY barfs on Chris some more, which only cements the boyman’s love.

Gus doesn’t react as fondly to the projectile vomiting, and he demands that “Next time that thing is gonna blow, put some damn newspapers down.” Again, it’s a joke, and it’s funny. But it’s also another step the Tanners skipped: setting rules.

How do you care for an alien? How do you protect yourself, your family, and your belongings? What needs to change about your routine in order for this to work?

“Nothing,” Willie tacitly replies as he slips out of his boxers and dangles his wiener in front of this still-unfamiliar creature from hell.

Gus, by contrast, immediately sets some ground rules.

Which of these is a parody of the other? You’d be forgiven for choosing incorrectly.

Chris then explains, as Willie did in ALF‘s pilot, what the acronym SPEWEY stands for: Special Person Entering the World Egg Yolks. While “ALF” is certainly a less labored acronym, it’s only a little less ridiculous that Willie had it in his pocket, ready to go.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

The episode’s equivalent of the Alien Task Force shows up, and while they’re more overtly comic, they’re actually a lot more believable than the honor-system imbeciles of the ALF universe. It doesn’t help that we’re supposed to fear the Alien Task Force — which certainly couldn’t find its asshole on a guided tour — and laugh at these guys. If something’s meant to be funny, we just look for reasons to laugh. If something’s meant to be imposing and dangerous, we need to be convinced of those things, otherwise we lose confidence in the writing.

Their dialogue is nothing incredible, but it answers all of the questions that the existence of the Alien Task Force does not. “We’re from a special agency that’s none of your business. All you need to know is we’re searching the area for something that doesn’t concern you.” That’s recognizable satire of both shady government organizations and the way they’re portrayed in popular culture.

And that’s all we need. The moment we learn about the Alien Task Force, we start asking questions. Who funds them? Are they operating in secret or in the open? Why can the guy who comes to the Tanners’ door look neither up nor to his right?

Immediately we start poking holes, because we’re given specifics. Here, we aren’t. It’s a lesson from the actual United States government: control the communication. Whatever you say will be subject to scrutiny, so say only as much as you need to.

Again, which of these is the parody?

Funnily enough, one of the government men says that they got a report of strange activity in the area from “some HAM radio geek.” Willie, your legend lives on.

Chris stashes SPEWEY in the closet, and he and Gus pretend that the groans and grumbles are coming from their sick cat. SPEWEY then vomits all the way from his hiding place onto these men, who question that it’s a cat. Chris covers for SPEWEY by pretending that it was he who just threw up all over them, and Gus, beautifully, adds, “You buy that, right?”

Brian Doyle-Murray is one of those very, very, very few comic actors who manage to make every one of their lines funny. I’d add to that list Matt Berry, and the late Phil Hartman. I don’t know that I’d add anyone else.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

After the government men leave, Gus starts wondering what to do with the alien. Granted, he’s thinking about how to turn him around to a tabloid (or to Michael Jackson) for a mountain of cash, but it’s still better than the Tanners who just shrug and say, “I guess it lives with us forever. Now let’s go out for some frosty chocolate milkshakes.”

SPEWEY begins shivering and emitting streams of yellowish gunk from his elbows. Chris, not wishing to be rude, grabs a mug and drinks it. It’s disgusting (to watch…not for him to drink, apparently) but, again, it’s more logical than anything we’ve seen in ALF. Why wouldn’t a space creature have bodily functions we’d find disgusting? Think of all the things that come out of your human body at various points throughout the day. To a hypothetical alien civilization that wasn’t familiar with any of them…would they seem kind of…well…gross? In return, the aliens would be comfortable with their own secretions, while we’d find them appalling.

What does ALF do? Hiccup sometimes? Fuck off.

Anyway, watching this right now, as I write this, I had to pause and laugh myself silly, because there’s a line that cracks me up every single time. I remember laughing about it as a kid, and being unable to stop laughing for minutes straight. Now, as an adult…that’s pretty much still the case.

Gus tells Chris to get it the hell out of there, and Chris says, “I think I’ll take SPEWEY out and introduce him to my old high school buddy, the Pope.”

I hurt myself laughing at that the first time I heard it, and I still remember my friends and I quoting it (and variations of it) for ages. Revisiting it is still just as funny to me. To a newcomer, who’s experienced this kind of joke in other shows by now, it probably doesn’t feel as fresh.

But to young me, in his important formative years as a humorist, this was probably the single funniest thing I had ever heard.

The fact that it’s immediately followed up by SPEWEY beating the shit out of the Pope kept me from being able to catch my breath.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

Back at the house, Gus is meeting with two men who manage Michael Jackson’s private zoo: Peebo Griffin, and Nick “The Keeper” Gilotti. SPEWEY savagely beats the men, not for reasons of self-defense but because why not, and even bites Nick’s ear off.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

When they flee, Gus figures that if nobody will buy the thing, then maybe he can at least “squeeze a little beer money out of the government.” It’s definitely interesting to me that nobody really stumbled upon this idea in ALF. As many people who have seen him, they’ve all been perfectly content to share their lives — to whatever degree — with a completely unfamiliar alien hellbeast.

Granted, Flaky Pete called the Alien Task Force on him, but also fell for the beauty of ALF’s lifeless black eyes and lazy movie references, and then reversed his testimony. Here it’s nice to see that somebody, for some reason, is going to let the government study the fucking thing before they start letting it sleep with children.

Chris protests that SPEWEY’s friends might be coming back for him, to which Gus replies perfectly, “Kid, nobody’s coming back for that.”

Then there’s a lovely little exchange between the two about SPEWEY’s fate in the hands of the government:

GUS: They’ll take a few pictures, maybe cut its head off.
CHRIS: Now Gus, I’m not a fool. I know that that could cause permanent damage. Look, you have got to open your mind, and more importantly your heart. Come on, SPEWEY’s here to spread compassion and hope to our world.
GUS: He’s a disgusting, puking bastard and his pointy-eared butt is outta here.

It goes without saying that this conversation mirrors a similar one in ALF‘s pilot, and also that this one is much, much funnier. Whereas ALF had an 85-year-old man dodder up to the front door and mumble through a list of horrors the alien would be subjected to, Get a Life actually has something to do with the characters involved.

Chris’s idiocy, for instance, plays out several times in the course of a single line. He thinks decapitation could result in “permanent damage,” as opposed to “guaranteed death.” That’s funny. It’s funnier that he says this as justification of the fact that he’s not an idiot. And then he caps it off with a completely detached and unfounded proclamation that SPEWEY is spreading compassion and hope.

Gus is more worldly, as he knows SPEWEY won’t have much of a future in captivity, and brusque in the way that he tosses off that information. He’s also both totally realistic and rude in his assessment of the creature’s demeanor.

Good writing allows you to do things like this…to build character while you build laughs. ALF struggles with both on a regular basis. Get a Life, while it never, ever took itself seriously, could achieve this in even expository dialogue.

My favorite thing about Chris’s love for SPEWEY, though, is just how perfectly it mirrors what we saw on ALF. The Tanners, like Chris, are oblivious to just how horrible, toxic, and draining a presence ALF is. He’s a destructive force in their lives, and yet they treat him better than they treat their son. The show doesn’t realize this. By contrast, in Get a Life, everybody apart from the main character realizes this…and reacts accordingly.

The government men, still in the neighborhood, show up almost as soon as Gus calls them, which leads to the second thing in this episode I remember hurting myself laughing at. It’s the perfect sight gag of Chris placing his hands on the creature and saying “We’ve got to get out of here! Run! Run like the wind, SPEWEY!”

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

…and then:

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

I’m sorry, but Chris shoving this fucking beast face first into the floor will never stop being a riot.

Chris then drags it off-camera by the head. I think “SPEWEY and Me” might be the most perfect distillation of everything I could ever find funny.

Later, Chris arrives at the home of Sharon Potter, whose life he ruined in a previous episode by unwittingly convincing her husband — his best friend — to leave her. He brings his stinking, reeking companion into the living room under the now-customary E.T. blanket.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

Sharon listens to Chris rattle on about the government coming after him, and as she openly hates him and regularly wishes him dead, she asks if he happens to have their number.

His reply is one of the most perfect lines I’ve ever heard. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Right here on this card. I keep it with me so I don’t accidentally call it.”

If I ever write something half as brilliant I will die a happy man.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

While Sharon is in the other room making what she promises is a totally unrelated phone call, her daughter Amy comes in and asks about what’s under the blanket.

This is it. This is the big moment Chris has been waiting for, and he knows it. Weak-kneed and euphoric, he says, “This is the magic moment. When the children, oh the dear, sweet, innocent children, get to experience the magic of a creature from another world. Get ready, Amy. Get ready to be transformed by love…and by magic.”

He then reveals the hideous SPEWEY, whom Amy attacks immediately, screaming that she hates it and wants it dead.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

Chris, of course, is overcome with joy at the fact that the children understand the spaceman’s simple language.

SPEWEY then begins to spray bolus from his head and mouth, spinning around like a sprinkler and drenching Sharon’s furniture with vomit. She complains to Chris between facefuls of sputum, while he beams and explains, “He’s teaching us about love!”

The government arrives at the house, and there’s a perfectly pitched dramatic music sting, as though this should be as shocking a revelation for us as it is for Chris.

Get a Life was a show that used a laugh-track…wholly against its will. David Mirkin and Chris Elliott hated it…but the network insisted.

Watching it now, the laughter does feel particularly phony and out of place…but it almost works as a sort of slanted parody of the idea of a laugh track, slotting the aggressive disorientation of Get a Life right alongside something like The Andy Griffith Show. The same voices are laughing at some truly, vastly different jokes.

But what I love about the network-mandated laugh track is how masterfully Get a Life withholds it. The obviousness of Sharon’s betrayal should be met with laughter, but instead it gets a music cue that sounds like it comes directly from Chris’s mind. Other episodes shut the laugh track off for the sake of unsettling the audience…the jokes don’t stop coming, but the absence of fabricated laughter helps us feel that we’ve shifted into darker territory.

It’s lovely stuff. Throughout the whole of the series I don’t think the withholding of laughter is employed very often, but when it is, it’s felt, even if it’s not consciously realized. It’s the kind of structural joke the show was only able to make because it was forced to do something it didn’t want to do.

When you have writers and actors this good, even your show’s limitations can become strengths.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

Then we get another great moment of physical comedy…albeit one that’s been repeated so often that it’s become expected. Chris seats SPEWEY in his basket to escape the government, and encourages him to fly.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

It’s the stupidest god damned thing possible for Chris to do, and as far as I’m concerned it’s the single greatest instance of this particular subversion. I don’t know that Get a Life did it first, but I’ll go to my grave arguing that it did it best.

The rules governing the universe of Get a Life were so flexible that something like this could be seen coming a mile away, and yet still feel like a surprise. After all, the episode is about a space alien arriving on Earth. Is the ability to fly or hover that far-fetched?

There’s really only one rule to the show, and that’s that whatever happens has to be funny. Much of what unfolds around Chris is funny because it’s realistic, and he’s behaving as though he lives in a fantasy world. The rest of the time, what unfolds around Chris is pure fantasy, and he’s held back by the actual laws of human existence. (In this case, gravity.)

The show can stop and pivot at any point, and then pivot right back again.

But, hey, so can Family Guy, right? The difference is that when Get a Life did it, they did it with a room full of writers asking a question: is this the funniest thing we can do? If the answer was yes, they probably did it. If it was no, they probably did not. Get a Life was charting a great deal of new territory, but it very rarely did anything for the sake of doing it. Its identity didn’t begin and end with its novelty; the novelty was a byproduct of its creativity.

They arrive back at Gus’s house, bruised and bleeding. Gus accuses Chris of trying to “make out with it,” but Chris explains what happened: “SPEWEY was talking me flying…and, well, we hit a downdraft. Either that or he just doesn’t fly.”

I cannot stress enough just how exciting dialogue like this felt to me as a kid. Totally straight-faced, and yet utterly insane. For a while, Sunday nights really were magical.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

SPEWEY isn’t looking so hot, though…he’s leaking green gunk everywhere, and it tastes more garlicky than usual. Chris volunteers to get him some alien medicine, an idea which Gus derides. Chris then mocks him for his disbelief, and heads out to the supermarket to buy some…returning with a bottle of both regular and non-drowsy formula.

This is an example of just how pliant Get a Life‘s rules are. In the previous scene, the big joke was that Chris believed his bike would be able to fly…but that’s obviously bullshit because that’s not how things work in the real world.

Here, the big joke is that Gus told him he wouldn’t be able to find alien medicine at the grocery store because that’s not how things work in the real world…but Chris was right, and he found it just fine.

In each case, it’s a question of what would be funnier. Adhere to that rule and you’ll end up with a pretty unpredictable universe, yes, but you’ll also end up fulfilling the silent promise that you make to your audience: whatever happens, it will be funny.

Chris then notices that SPEWEY is missing.

CHRIS: You sold him to the government!
GUS: I did not. I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I? Gus Borden is a man of his word.
CHRIS: Jeeze, Gus I, I’m sorry. I apologize, I don’t know what came over me. So where is SPEWEY?
GUS: I beat him to death with a rake.

What’s more, he made dinner out of him. After all, he couldn’t let perfectly good meat go to waste.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

Chris is upset, but comes around quickly when he realizes how tasty SPEWEY is. And Gus informs him that he didn’t even need to baste the meat, because it’s self-saucing.

File that away. I can promise you that calling something “self-saucing” over dinner is going to make at least one person sick.

Seriously…”self-saucing” was something that I somehow adopted into my lexicon without remembering where I heard it. Revisiting this episode so many years later, when I found a set of off-air recordings on ebay, I had to pause the VHS. It’s amazing how things can get wired into your brain without you even realizing it.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

That night, both Chris and Gus get a hankering for more SPEWEY meat. But when they open the fridge, SPEWEY is in there. Gus explains that “He must have regenerated from his own leftovers in an accelerated cloning process.”

SPEWEY forces his way past them and out of the house. Chris, confused, calls out to him. “Where are you going? SPEWEY? Are you mad because we ate you?”

And holy son of a bitch, it’s lines like these that make me love this show. I know I’ve used the word “perfect” a lot in this review, but since Get a Life was so devoutly episodic, the writers really could craft every detail to suit the story, without having to worry about how it would fit between the prior and next episodes.

They play like short films, brief excursions into a world we’ll never see through quite that same filter again. And it meant that episodes didn’t ever wind down; as long as the writers kept putting forth the effort to build a new experience from scratch, they were going to make sure it was worth it, front to back.

Get a Life, "SPEWEY and Me"

They follow him outside, where the mothership has arrived to take the creature home. (“Either that,” Gus observes, “or they’re hungry.”) SPEWEY gets hoisted up by what looks like a noose around his neck, and Chris and Gus wave their farewells to the wondrous creature that taught the world about love, through the universal language of facial lacerations and vomit.

It’s a ridiculous episode. And it certainly doesn’t tell a story that resonates through profundity, or anything along those lines. It’s simply a funny piece of television that relies on subversion, characterization, and a lot of brave experimentation.

You know.

Things that ALF should have been about in the first place.

As it stands, the source material never — I say this will total confidence — came anywhere near the solid writing or memorability of “SPEWEY and Me.” But without it, we wouldn’t have had the parody. So, in a way, we did get a great episode of ALF. It was just a bit later, under another name, with writers who knew how to have fun with the idea.

Notice how SPEWEY didn’t spend the entire episode selling makeup over the phone? That probably accounts for at least some of the difference.

ALF Reviews: “Turkey in the Straw: Part 2” (season 3, episode 8)

Welcome back! This week we…

Oh, fuck. It’s this Thanksgiving hobo thing again? Jesus.

Yeah, it’s part two. Of two, thankfully; we can take some solace in that at least. And if you didn’t catch last week’s episode, no worries; this one opens with over two minutes of clips from it. Having said that, if you didn’t catch last week’s episode, fuck you; none of the clips tell you anything that maters.

It’s really strange. If you’re going to show a recap, at least make it relevant to what we’re about to see. Instead it’s overt, obvious padding, as the “clips” are actually long, unedited conversations between characters. There’s no reason to replay them in full except to eat time. A smarter show would chop out all but the most important soundbites and a few of the better jokes. Here the editors just say, “Fuck it, we’ll spend a whole minute listening to Willie talk to Flaky Pete again.”

It’s padding, and it’s shameless. By the time the credits are over and we get to the actual footage unique to “Turkey in the Straw: Part 2,” we’re 4 minutes into the episode’s 23-minute runtime. It’s as if the writers didn’t actually want to script a second part.

Which, forgive me, forces me to ask why in the living fuck they made this a two-parter to begin with.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

The episode proper opens with a repeat of the final scene of Part 1, with Flaky Pete coming into the kitchen. So just let that sink in for a bit. After four minutes of recap and credits, we open the episode with a replay of something we’ve already seen.

Great.

It’s worth giving it a little more attention than that, though, since two things I didn’t mention in the previous episode come into play here.

The scene itself is a little longer than the previous edit, which makes it play unexpectedly oddly. For starters, Flaky Pete covers his mouth when introducing himself to ALF. We didn’t see that the first time around, and this time I couldn’t figure out why he was hiding his stubble, or whatever he was doing.

Only later did it click for me that this was because the Alien Task Force warned him in Part 1 that ALF might jump down his throat and burst out of his chest, ala (…kinda) Alien. Since I forgot all about that stupid part of a stupid exchange in a stupid episode, I had no idea what stupid shit was going on here.

If you’re going to have two different edits of this scene, why strand the punchline away from the setup? Why not do the fucking Alien gag in the episode that set it up, and leave it out of this one?

Or, wait, didn’t we just have minutes upon minutes of recaps leading up to this? Why not include that line in the clips you’re already fucking showing if it’s supposed to pay off here?

Something else makes this scene play oddly this time around, and it’s actually the opposite of the Alien gag’s problem. See, Part 1 ended with ALF seeing Flaky Pete and saying “rut-roh.” I didn’t bother to mention it then, because I had no everloving idea why ALF was suddenly, irrelevantly channeling Scooby-Doo.

Well, in the longer edit of the scene, that comes later…after ALF unsuccessfully tries to convince this stranger that he’s a dog. Here, when Flaky Pete announces that he’s not fooling anyone, the “rut-roh” makes sense. In the same scene from the previous episode, it was a confusing non sequitur.

So, there you have it. The Alien punchline gets botched here because it’s so far removed from the setup, and the “rut-roh” punchline gets botched there because it’s stripped of its context. ALF sure does two-parters right!

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

At the Ochmonek house, Mr. and Mrs. O are warbling some made-up German nonsense while Jake plays the drums. Super glad we added you to the cast, Jake. This show would be lost without you.

It goes on for fucking ever.

Really. I’m pretty sure I have a higher Ochmonek tolerance than anyone else on the planet, but this is just them making noise. We are filming them making noise.

…having said that, I do really like the fact that you can see Willie with his arms crossed in the mirror.

That’s a really nice touch, and it’s a perfect reflection of how I watch this show, too.

Of course, we cut to a shot of Willie that has Kate standing where she should be visible in the reflection as well, but she’s not. Kate Tanner, vampire. Confirmed.

Or just terrible blocking. Later we can see the mirror again and suddenly she’s there, so who knows. Maybe she had to go take a shit during one of the takes.

The mirror breaks at the end, with a cheap effect that makes it look like a sheet of tin foil was just bunched up into somebody’s fist. By the time it’s over and we cut back to ALF, we’re eight minutes into the episode.

Eight minutes. A third of the episode.

And nothing has happened.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

Did this really need to be a two-parter? Again, could this not have been condensed down to one decent episode, instead of two shitty ones?

It’s just like “Someone to Watch Over Me” last season. In both cases, I honestly believe we could have ended up with something good. Probably not great…but something at least fun and watchable. And in both cases, we instead get these painful slogs through act-long stretches in which nothing noteworthy, funny, interesting, important, or memorable happens.

I’ll give “ALF’s Special Christmas” credit for one thing; it was packed wall-to-wall with stuff happening. So much so that it was unintentionally comical just how much bullshit the audience was expected to choke down. But the point is that it was an hour long because Fusco & Friends had that much material.

It was bad material, but, well…so is this. That episode was doubled in length because the story (as it was…) required a larger vessel.

This, along with “Someone to Watch Over Me,” and “Tonight, Tonight,” is twice the length for the sake of being twice the length. It’s ALF telling us that it cares neither about the most effective way of telling its stories nor about respectful usage of its audience’s time.

I mean, look at the screengrab. Look how far into this fucking article you are.

It’s still Flaky Pete and ALF talking. Not even about anything interesting. They’re still introducing themselves. This episode is stalling for time and I hate it. How long does it take for these two assholes to exchange pleasantries and move the fuck along?

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

Eventually, thank shitty Christ, the phone rings and it’s the Alien Task Force, doing alien tasks in their forcemobile.

The guy with his arm in a sling is calling Flaky Pete for no reason.

Just kidding. The reason is that the show needs to inject some ham-fisted tension before the commercial break. You know, the commercial break that comes halfway through the episode, which is the point we’re at right now.

And nothing. The fuck. Has happened.

Sgt. Tennis Elbow tells the hobo, “lol sry, I forgot to mention we’re going to kill the alien.”

Flaky Pete gets sad, because the hideous creature he just spent 11 minutes introducing himself to might be put down before it can spread harmful space disease to innocent people.

Over the course of a single episode, a constant escalation of tension would have worked quite well, and the Alien Task Force is a built-in mechanism for introducing that tension. But instead of twenty minutes or so of mounting dread, we get seven days between when these assholes are called and when they finally get to the house.

By that time we’re so sick of waiting that we no longer care if ALF gets flayed alive in the name of science. We just want them to fucking get there so that something will happen.

Then we cut to Willie getting mustard thrown in his stupid dumbass face

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

I take it all back. This is the best episode in the history of the world.

Back at the house, ALF is showing Flaky Pete photos of his life on Melmac. It’s a decent moment, full of Melmac lore (see a very lengthy Melmac Facts below), but it’s nothing great. You’d think that once these two finally started having a conversation we’d get to hear something interesting…and, in fairness, we do.

I’ll talk about that a moment, but first, the main thing that stuck out to me is how different Flaky Pete looks without his hat:

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

He’s a whole other person…and one that I now recognize.

Yep. That’s David Ogden Stiers.

Look him up; he’s been in a million things. Most notably though, he played Major Charles Winchester on M*A*S*H*.

This is a good actor, folks. Seeing him slumming through “ALF’s Special Thanksgiving” is brutal. It’s probably the biggest career disappointment for anyone in this show, barring maybe Uncle Albert, who played Wilmer in The Maltese Falcon.

Maybe I would have recognized him last week if not for a subconscious reluctance to link ALF and M*A*S*H* in any way.

His IMDB page, though, reassures me that this was not the last gasp of an actor who deserved much better. He’s still working consistently (and has been for what seems like his whole life), which softens the blow quite a bit.

We come very close to an interesting exchange when Flaky Pete reveals he used to be in the military, reacting to the news of Melmac’s nuclear apocalypse with a sense of true horror.

He likens that to his own experience in the armed forces…specifically, the fact that he retired because he didn’t feel anything could be worth blowing up the planet over. Sure, that’s a massively oversimplified perspective on war, but it could build into a really resonant conversation about what happened on Melmac.

It doesn’t, which is disappointing enough. The fact that this comes right after last week’s revelation that there was no war on Melmac — somebody just left a fork in their equivalent of a microwave, I guess — robs it of all meaning entirely.

What a waste of a great opportunity.

Stiers does his best to elevate his material, with a few seconds of genuinely affecting sadness when the Alien Task Force calls him to let them know they’re only 30 minutes away. It doesn’t last, but it’s a flash of talent that the material, quite frankly, doesn’t deserve.

Brian and Jake come into the living room and see ALF chilling with a hobo. Nothing really comes of it, apart from an agonizing few seconds of the camera lingering on Benji Gregory while the kid struggles to remember his only line.

The kids are introduced to the hobo, then they go back to the Ochmonek house to rat him out.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

Willie, overcome with excitement, assumes that Flaky Pete reconsidered his offer for those crack rocks.

The Tanners stand up and leave without thanking the Ochmoneks for the meal, the hospitality, or anything at all. But I guess I’m overthinking things. Since when do people make a point of giving thanks on Thanksgiving?

OH FUCKING WAIT

Last week a few commenters called me out for coming down so hard on Willie…specifically the fact that he’s supposed to be a social worker. Rightly so, at least in isolation.

Within that episode, sure, maybe he had a bad day or week at work. Maybe he was just tired of being empathetic and compassionate all the time. Maybe he really needed some downtime with his family, and therefore overreacted when that was threatened.

All well and good, except for the fact that we’ve seen Willie at work, and he’s neither empathetic nor compassionate. We’ve seen him pissing and moaning about people who are nothing but polite to him, and we see it regularly. I couldn’t even tell you the last time he’s expressed gratitude for anything to anyone.

Willie, in a word, can’t suffer from being over-compassionate because he has yet to demonstrate compassion at all.

And, again, it’s worth mentioning that this could be useful in a sitcom. The disparity between his personality and his occupation could be funny. This is where I’d list a few examples of comedy characters who hate their jobs…but it’d be infinitely quicker to list those who don’t. (Leslie Knope. Kenneth Parcell. Jonas Venture, Jr. DONE.)

The insurmountable problem is that the writers are not aware of the disparity…something empasized (unwittingly) in the fact that this episode ends with the Tanners making good with Hobo Pete, but not the Ochmoneks.

As far as the Fuscoteers are concerned, the Tanners have nothing to apologize to them for. They treated shitty people like shit, so everything maintains its rightful balance. That kind of attitude is in no way compatible with a social worker who deserves raises and promotions every handful of episodes…

…and yet the writers don’t realize that. We’ve yet to see evidence of Willie treating anyone who isn’t himself like a human being. That could be a source of comedy. Instead it’s a badge of idiocy.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

Back at the house, Willie yells for a while at ALF. Then he turns to Flaky Pete, and we get to see Max Wright and David Ogden Stiers in an act-off.

It’s a big moment. Emotionally, it’s what both episodes have been building toward. Sticking these two in the center of it, and offering us no distractions from the heated exchange, the episode is counting on these two men to sell the drama.

Wright gets all of the lines here, giving him a significant advantage. What’s more, all of his lines are engineered to tug at our heart-strings. He pleads with Flaky Pete not to reveal ALF to anyone else, as that alien has become part of their family. He alludes to the danger our title character is in, and throws himself on the hobo’s mercy. He has no idea that the Alien Task Force is on the way, so all of his concern is coming, ostensibly, from the heart.

Stiers, on the other hand, just has to stand there and listen.

Guess which one of them manages the more affecting performance.

What an insult to this guy to have to play third banana to such an undeserving cast of imbeciles.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

There’s a genuinely nice, understated moment when the phone rings once. That was the Alien Task Force’s signal to Flaky Pete that they’re there.

Lynn answers it and says, “They must have hung up,” without any real interest.

Nobody takes note.

But Stiers sells the moment of internal conflict. He feels awful about what he’s done…but he’s already done it. It’s too late.

He excuses himself to wash his hands, and you can feel the rock in his stomach.

Whether or not the writers intended it, this functions as a lovely moment of awakening. A homeless man who’s been kicked around and mistreated realizes that he kicked around and mistreated somebody else. It’s not empowering to him…it’s devastating.

Stiers knows how to act. I have to believe it’s no coincidence that he does his best work in ALF when he does it silently, without having to worry about the garbage they handed him on the script.

The family starts to sing about God (yes, fucking really fucking fucking really) as Flaky Pete slips outside to meet with the Alien Task Force. We hear the Thanksgiving hymn continue in the background, making it pretty difficult to hope that he doesn’t turn the family in.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

FIVE STEVES PEST REMOVAL, everyone.

Anyway, this is Flaky Pete’s crisis of conscience. Whatever he does, he’d best do it right. He approaches the Alien Task Force (who are presumably going incognito due to the van, and yet still march around in broad daylight in full Alien Task Force regalia), takes a deep breath, and does what he knows must be done.

In a very nice — but extremely anticlimactic, considering an hour of screentime has built to this — resolution, Flaky Pete tries to pass himself off as a loony who believes himself to be an alien.

The Alien Task Force bitches for a bit about missing the game and then drives away without any further examination of the area, ignoring the astonishing coincidence that this false positive took place at the exact same address as the previous two false positives. They don’t even bother to ring the doorbell.

Why — WHY — does this organization even exist?

They shrug and leave after about five seconds of mindless hobobabble, and we return to the Tanners who are sitting around the table, holding hands and literally singing Christ’s praises.

What a treat. Exactly where I was hoping I’d end up in a show about an alien…watching some family of white assholes singing about God.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

So, yeah, not only is Willie a social worker, but he’s a devout Christian. Apparently.

What would Jesus do? Well, he’d probably make fun of his fat neighbors and act ungrateful for everything they’ve done for him.

Honestly, if this is Willie’s idea of being a good Christian, maybe his understanding of social work is equally skewed. Then again, this entire universe’s understanding of social work is skewed, so we’ll just chalk it up again to a room full of writers not giving one lone shit about their own show.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 2"

The episode ends with Brian performing his Thanksgiving play for the family, the hobo, and us. It’s a great chance to squeeze in some casual racism with ALF dressing up as an Indian and making hilarious jokes about being kidnapped by “the white man.” It’s every bit the squirt of garbage water we all deserve to get in our eyes for sitting through this shit instead of reading a book.

Brian and Lynn then explain the meaning of Thanksgiving, which we’re told is something that brings the whole world together…even though it’s an exclusively American holiday. The writers are aware that America is not the world, right?

…right?

Just before the credits come up, Willie adds that they have one celebrant from Melmac, and then tears up.

I don’t know why. I think we’re supposed to believe that his heart has been touched. Instead it just looks like he realized that his career has peaked with a show about a talking throw-rug.

“Turkey in the Straw,” as a whole, sort of sucks. It sort of really sucks. But it’s still the best thing I’ve seen in season three.

I’m conflicted. On one hand, I’m grateful for that much. On the other, I truly hope this isn’t actually as good as it gets. Do we at least have another Jodie or Dr. Dykstra episode to look forward to? I really fucking hope so…

Flaky Pete departs, and Willie says he hopes he stays in touch. He sleeps in your compost heap, asshole. I think if there’s going to be any kind of ongoing friendship, the onus is on you.

MELMAC FACTS: Flaky Pete concludes that ALF is from a cold planet, due to his fur, and mentions that his feet are suited to a muddy terrain, probably reddish-brown so that he’d blend in. His large ears suggest a thin atmosphere that doesn’t transmit sound well, and his big nose indicates a scarcity of oxygen. All very interesting, but ALF neither confirms nor denies these conclusions, because he’d rather say, “Hey! Watch the wisecracks about the schnoz!” The fact that Flaky Pete cracked wise in no way isn’t enough to quell to laughter of dead people, so fuck you for caring. Planet K-171 (I have no idea if this even exists, unlike Chiron from “Weird Science” which was used as an interesting way of weaving ALF’s mythology into our own) is known to ALF as Neesbeck, and their “national bird” is dust. Why not “global bird?” ALF regularly seems to treat Melmac like a nation as well as a planet, as though the two are interchangeable…I guess that’s just a general (and inexplicable) confusion within in the show. Melmac had orange skies and green ground. The Orbit Guard motto was “To guard the orbits, whether they need it or not.” ALF never saw combat when he was one of them. HAPPY FAPPY TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT

ALF Reviews: “Turkey in the Straw: Part 1” (season 3, episode 7)

At long last, we get to ALF‘s Thanksgiving episode. Hooray! And it’s…complicated. I’ve got a sort of toleration/hate relationship with this one…and, to be honest, the second half could sway me in either direction. But that’s a story for next time. We’ve got plenty to talk about before deciding if this two-parter is a heap of shit.

This episode opens with ALF teaching Kate how to use her new microwave oven, and while the joke is both lame and nonsensical (ALF is reading instructions from the VCR manual, which somehow takes ages for either of them to realize) Lynn isn’t being raped so this is already a masterpiece compared to last week.

It’s the day of Thanksgiving, and ALF has hidden all respect for the audience. Specifically, the plot hinges upon the idea that ALF doesn’t understand Thanksgiving. That’s fine, right? He’s a space alien, so Earth (or, erm, American) customs are new to him.

Yet, by now, we know this is impossible. Even if three years in our time equals a much smaller span of time in the ALF universe (which it doesn’t, as we’ll see later), we know that ALF has already celebrated Halloween (“Some Enchanted Evening”) and Christmas (“Oh, Tannerbaum,” “ALF’s Special Christmas,” “Shumway Christmas Boogie”), so it’s impossible that this could be his first experience of Thanksgiving on Earth.

In fact, since he’s celebrated multiple Christmasses, this should be at least his third Thanksgiving. The episode may even allude to this fact, as when ALF asks if he’s ever told them about Thanksgiving on Melmac, Willie offers up a tired acknowledgement that, yes, he has.

In short, they’ve been through all this crap before, so what happens here is total, irritating contrivance.

ALF ate the entire Thanksgiving turkey, raw. (“Turkey sushi,” he explains matter-of-factly, which I admit was good for a chuckle.) He does that because he’s adhering to Melmackian tradition.

On ALF’s homeworld, the equivalent of Thanksgiving was a holiday called Fappiano — named for Bob Fappiano, one of ALF’s secondary puppeteers, and not for what you think. But, again, ALF can’t be held faultless for accidentally slipping into old Melmac habits…he’s fucking been here for years. By now, I’m sorry, the hairy little fucker has to know that humans don’t like it when you eat their dinner.

He knows what Thanksgiving entails. And yet he does this. Willie and Co. seem to know what Fappiano entails…and yet they’re surprised he does this. What the living shit is even going on?

It’s pointless nonsense, relying, I guess, on the idea that everything on Earth will be perpetually new to ALF, no matter how many times he experiences it…except for all of those other times that he has a perfect, innate understanding of everything he’s never seen before.

Fuck this show.

I’ll propose a quick rewrite for “Turkey in the Straw”: ALF indeed ruins Thanksgiving, but not because he took a fork and sat naked on the kitchen floor eating everything. Instead, he has something of a handle on the holiday by now, having shared it with the Tanners and seen Kate prepare for it over the past few years. He decides to surprise her by doing something nice, and cooking the food himself. Maybe he forgets to defrost the turkey first. Maybe he carves it up and serves it raw because that’s how they did it on Melmac. Or maybe he prepares everything wonderfully, but stuffs the bird with fistfuls of Lucky’s intestines.

Who knows. The point is, you can have ALF fucking things up for other reasons. It doesn’t always have to be “ALF has no clue wtf this is,” especially since he’s been on Earth long enough now that we should be seeing more partial understandings than complete misunderstandings. You can still end up in the same place, plotwise, but you get there more naturally, in a way that maybe, just maybe, might help these characters feel real.

Anyway, Willie puts on his coat and heads out to find a last-minute turkey…something that calls to mind the exact setup of “Oh, Tannerbaum.” ALF doesn’t know the holiday, ALF destroys some necessary piece of the celebration, and Willie heads out in late search of a replacement.

Advancing ALF’s mindset from no-knowledge to partial-knowledge wouldn’t just show the audience respect…it would prevent the writers from telling the same fucking stories all over again.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

For the first time in what feels like forever, Brian has something to do. Granted, it’s wearing a silly costume, which is the writers’ customary way of saying, “We’re paying this kid, so we might as well do something with him,” but it’s nice that they at least remembered that.

He’s rehearsing some kind of Thanksgiving play with ALF, and I feel as though I’ve seen stuff like this in other sitcoms. Did any of you put on plays for your family as kids? Around the holidays? I sure didn’t, but I have no idea if this is a fictional invention or something that previous generations actually did. Was I missing out on something embarrassing? That’s not like me.

Anyway there’s a rainstorm, and then there’s something I really like. After a flash of lightning, ALF counts “One hippopotamus, two hippopatamus…” When they finally hear the sound of the strike, ALF announces the distance as “three and a half hippopotami.”

This is cute and, again, the kind of thing ALF and Brian should be doing regularly: being kids. It’s not hilarious or anything, but it’s sweet, and it’s a side of ALF I really enjoy. Counting the seconds before you hear the thunder is the kind of thing that feels well observed…and it’s a damn sight better than ALF breakdancing on the kitchen table and accidentally smashing Willie’s priceless antique gravy boat we’ve never heard about.

Then Kate brings out a decorative cornucopia full of wax fruit, and ALF tries to eat one of the apples. He stops after one bite because he doesn’t like wax, to which Kate replies that they should get a wax turkey next year.

Again, nothing great, but I am eternally thankful for just how human Anne Schedeen makes this character feel. She plays it perfectly…slightly snotty (rightly so) but still fond of the “child” who did this. She really, really deserved a role on a much better sitcom.

ALF, feeling at least slightly guilty, attempts to regurgitate the turkey…if only he can remember which stomach it’s in. In “Something’s Wrong With Me,” we learned that Melmackians have a total of 10 organs…eight of which are stomachs. Shockingly for this show, the writers seem to remember that, as ALF dry heaves for a bit and then announces, “It’s not in number eight.”

Continuity? In my ALF?

Then there’s some more lightning outside, and I have to say that the flashes are well done. We don’t linger on them…they happen while we’re looking elsewhere, and we see the room get much brighter for a moment. It’s a nice little piece of bringing life to the static set, and making it feel like an actual house in an actual storm.

I know I’m saying this pretty early in the first half of a two-part episode, and I’m bound to reconsider it later, but as of right now, “Turkey in the Straw” is already the best thing in season three.

Then Mrs. Ochmonek comes over and makes a face like she just sat on her own testicles.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

Wow, we have a Brian scene and a Mrs. Ochmonek scene before we even see Lynn? That’s really surprising. I wonder what her character is supposed to be doing.

As much as I love Andrea Elson, I have to admit that having a break from the character after the muck they dragged her through last week is pretty welcome. If she’s off camera I can at least assume she’s acting like a human being, and being treated with respect. When she’s on camera, that gets much more difficult.

Mrs. Ochmonek complains about the “bum” that’s been hanging around the neighborhood. It’s not a great scene, but it does something I really like, and it’s something that happens so, so rarely that I need to celebrate it: Mrs. Ochmonek is portrayed in a believably annoying manner.

She’s not an over-the-top cartoon, nor is she a genuinely good neighbor getting abused for no reason. Here, she seems like a relic of a not-so-distant past…someone left behind by fairly recent social progress. It doesn’t make her a bad person, but it does make her out of touch, and unintentionally rude. Specifically, it comes down to the way she describes the homeless person: she keeps calling him a bum.

Kate subtly corrects her by rephrasing what she’s saying, referring to him as a “homeless person,” but Mrs. Ochmonek won’t have it. “He’s a bum, Kate.”

And I like this. At least, this aspect of this.

Having two characters differ on their terminology in the course of a conversation — differ in a way that does not, mind you, directly affect the plot — is the kind of thing you can pull off when you actually have characters. You don’t just have them explaining the story to the viewers, you have them talking to each other in a way that takes specific advantage of their own vocabularies and prejudices.

It’s not great, but it is good, and I’m always glad to see the writers meeting Anne Schedeen at least part of the way.

They don’t get far into the conversation, though, as Mrs. Ochmonek quickly accuses Kate of feeding the bum. Why does she suspect this? Because the Tanners always have saucers of milk out there to attract stray cats.

Personally, I’m now in love with the idea that while the Tanners sleep, ALF slaughters and consumes neighborhood cats that he tricks into approaching the house. Whether or not the writers intended anything near as gory as what I’m wont to picture, this is a funny line that brings some life to ALF, and lets us know that he doesn’t cease to exist when the cameras stop rolling.

It’s also better than the “ALF eats cats lol” joke from the last scene, in which Brian says it’s raining cats and dogs and ALF starts violently masturbating.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

Willie comes home, soaked to the bone, and Mrs. Ochmonek mistakes him for the homeless person. (Sorry, bum.) There’s a legitimately funny moment of mild physical comedy when the wet paper bag tears open and spills its contents onto the table.

Willie couldn’t find a turkey…so he just bought a bunch of Cornish game hens.

They’re frozen solid, of course, so while Willie and Kate bicker (realistically…their voices just south of admitting frustration) Mrs. Ochmonek invites them to Thanksgiving dinner.

Here’s where we slip right back into the shittiest aspect of these characters. Willie and Kate piss and moan and try to weasel out of it, because the Ochmoneks are less wealthy than they are, I guess. Who knows. Granted, Mrs. Ochmonek just heaped abuse on a homeless man for no good reason, but somehow she still comes off as a much better human being than these two. She invites them and their kids to Thanksgiving dinner at literally the last minute, because she sees they don’t have food. Their response? Barely stopping short of telling her to go fuck herself.

I know which family I’d rather spend a holiday with.

This is still, however, the best thing about season three so far.

Mrs. Ochmonek leaves to get things ready, and the Tanners complain about the shitty-ass neighbor who just offered to take them in and feed them. Then ALF pops up through the plot window to reveal that he fed the bum.

He didn’t meet the guy, he just left some of the Thanksgiving food out for him. Which would be pretty noble, but, still, ALF did eat most of the food himself. And why didn’t he volunteer this information earlier, when the question of the food was initially raised? Why did ALF think it was a better idea to say “I ate it because I’m a cunt” than “I fed a homeless man”?

ALF also mentions that he gave some clothes Willie never wears to the guy, which makes Willie bristle and seethe like the saintly social worker we’re regularly assured he is.

Again, there could be a lot of humor in this disconnect between Willie’s occupation and his behavior, but the show doesn’t seem to realize there is one. It makes for a really odd viewing experience, in which your entire moral code is recontextualized. I mean, fuck, I’m an asshole. But compared to Willie I’m the second coming of Christ.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

The reverse shot of Willie and Kate is weird. It almost looks like it’s supposed to be from ALF’s perspective, but he’s not standing over there. He’s on the other end of the window frame, propped up on it as usual. Speaking of which…how does he reach the plot window? What’s he standing on? The angle being from much lower than we usually see him is reminding me that he’s not nearly as tall as he seems through that window. How odd.

Usually, as you know, I give this show credit whenever it tries to spice up the static visuals. Here, though…while I appreciate the effort, it doesn’t work at all. It just looks like the Tanners are in a slasher movie and don’t realize that the killer midget is in the house.

Whatever. They tried. As far as the story goes, it can seem pretty sweet. After all, ALF gave some food and clothing to a homeless guy. And he did it off camera, without weeping tears of hot glue to the cloying strains of a string quartet. That sounds nice…

…but prepare to be disappointed. (Really, you should have done that long ago…). ALF says that he did it because it’s in the spirit of Fappiano.

Yeah, it’s nice that this fake Melmac holiday has a built-in element of charity, but it also means that ALF’s “good deed” is one that doesn’t actually come from the heart. Works without faith, as they say. So, good one, “Turkey in the Straw: Part 1.” We make it through another week without having to suspect that any of these idiots have a conscience.

Willie then goes outside to dig all his shit out of the garbage, and Kate asks ALF why they put up with him. Shockingly, he doesn’t have a good answer. As far as I’m concerned, this moment cements the fact that she’s just waiting for a week that Willie’s away on business to murder this fuck.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

While he’s digging through the trash, Willie hears singing, so he enters the shed to find a hobo. It’s a pretty simple scene, but according to ALF lore it took over 60 takes because Max Wright kept breaking character and offering to suck the guy off for a nugget of crack.

Willie grabs a crowbar with the presumable intention of beating a homeless man to death, or at least bludgeoning him so severely that he won’t want to return. Can we all agree that we have a new low for social work on this show?

Honestly now. The hobo is defenseless. He’s not putting up any kind of fight. In fact, he’s facing the other way with his feet up.

Why is Willie arming himself? Was this funny? The non-existent audience seems to think so, but does anyone who’s still alive? To me it just looks like Willie’s about to take gleeful advantage of the loosely defined Stand Your Ground laws.

Oh, and in case you think this is one of those episodes that “forgets” that Willie is a social worker, Willie himself says he’s a social worker later in this scene. But don’t worry…it’s just part of a ploy to get the homeless guy off his property. I sure hope he gets another couple promotions and a few more raises out of this!

The hobo introduces himself as Flaky Pete, because, as we learned with Gravel Gus, once you become homeless you go only by a basic descriptor and your first name, in that order. What would my hobo name be, I wonder? I hope Hunky Philip isn’t taken.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

Flaky Pete uses big words, which is sitcom shorthand for “not an idiot.” He also tells Willie that his starchart is out of date, because they discovered a new quasar near the Pleiades. Do starcharts even have quasars? I don’t fucking know.

Point is Willie gets excited for a moment, but then he remembers this is a bum talking, and bums are not human. Replying to him would be ridiculous, like talking to a hotdog. Willie even asks for his sweater back as he kicks the guy out. Jesus Christ…Willie’s gone from simply not helping the needy to stripping them naked before he shoves them out into the rain.

So Flaky Pete leaves while the sad music plays.

Willie peeks out to watch him go, and the act break falls just before he starts calling, “One nugget! Please! 10 minutes, just one nugget!”

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

We’re halfway through the episode, but we finally see Lynn. The break from the character was welcome, but now I’m definitely glad to see her. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss Andrea Elson until I was subjected to necessarily larger doses of Max Wright and Benji Gregory.

The family is heading off to the Ochmoneks’ house, bitching and complaining the entire time. Willie even gives a little speech to the family in which he sarcastically says that they should be grateful to the Ochmoneks for inviting them over in their “hour of need.”

Sarcasm. About kindness.

Seriously.

He’s even bitching that he can’t eat in his own house. Willie, you twisted fuck, literally two minutes ago you kicked a guy out of your shed when he had nowhere to go and just wanted to get out of the rain. Now you cry because you have two houses and two families to spend the holiday with?

Suck. My dicking. Dick.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

At the Ochmonek house, there are a bunch of relatives screaming and running in circles, basically acting like animals, because this is ALF, and if you don’t live with ALF, you’re portrayed as a blight on civilization.

Lynn sits next to some weird guy named Dudley, who tells her to call him Dud. She says, “No problem,” which I like, but I wish we didn’t have to wade through the Ochmoneks’ shallow gene pool to get there.

It’s interesting that the show is willing to humanize the homeless guy we’ll never see again (after next week, natch, when he works his Thanksgiving Hobo magic to resolve whatever this plot is), but would never dare do that for the neighbors who are constantly helping Willie’s ass.

It’s also really odd that the Tanners are being such dickshits to everybody on a holiday. They’re kicking people out in the rain and being vocally ungrateful over a meal that’s being shared with them. It’s such an odd episode. Does this end with Willie being visited by the Ghost of Thanksgiving Yet to Come?

Then Dudley asks Lynn if she remembers when they used to take baths together, which is something I have literally no clue how to interpret, so she leaves. I don’t blame her. I just wish she got off the set and kept walking.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

Back home ALF is singing “Happy Fappy to me, Happy Fappy to me.”

Yes. He really is singing “Happy Fappy to me.”

Lynn then comes in with some pumpkin Jell-o to share with him, so if you were looking for a way to start your erotic ALF fan fiction, Lynn entering a room while the alien sings “Happy Fappy” is as good a place as any.

Anyway, Lynn tells ALF about what happened, and though we can barely hear it, she describes Dudley as “This guy that I used to take a bath with.”

So…fucking fuck me?

Fuck the fuck fuck fuck.

FUCK

What the fuck are they doing to Lynn this season?

Seriously…what the living cockfuck are they doing to her? She’s engaged, she’s raped, she’s bathing with strangers…it’s fucking appalling how much work they’ve done to undo everything anyone could have liked about Lynn. What happened? Did Andrea Elson key Paul Fusco’s car or something?

Just..ugh.

I know kids bathe together…but aren’t they usually bathing with family members? If I found out that my parents used to make me take baths with my cousin, who would care? Big deal. But if I found out that I used to take baths with the neighbor’s cousin, I’d sincerely think my parents were perverse, deviant maniacs.

How is any of this possible, anyway? Have the Tanners really known the Ochmoneks for twenty years? Nothing in their previous exchanges would indicate that. Shit, Willie never even knew that Mr. Ochmonek was in the war.

And even if the Tanners did know them for two decades, they fucking hate the Ochmoneks. That’s about the only thing on this show that remains consistent from week to week. Why were they stripping their children naked and locking them in a bathroom with that family’s distant relatives?

Fucking Christ Almighty.

Is this what I get for saying good things about this episode? It’s disgusting.

…but it’s still probably the best one this season.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

Whatever. While they’re talking, Hobo Bobo comes to the window. He sees ALF, does a big poo, and then runs off to Willie’s shed to call the Alien Task Force.

A few times in these reviews I’ve wondered how it’s possible that people would be considered crazy if they said they saw an alien, while the Alien Task Force operates openly…and is presumably funded by their tax money. Commenters have raised the idea that the Alien Task Force might instead operate in secret…which is completely reasonable, and would address that concern entirely.

But ALF keeps reminding us that it’s not a secret organization in any way, as we see strongly reinforced by the fact that a fucking hobo knows their number by heart.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

Yes, we see the Alien Task Force!

They’re watching the football game and they make fun of Flaky Pete’s description of the alien, calling him a kook.

So…now we have an even stranger question to ask. If the Alien Task Force exists, why are they calling people crazy when they say they’ve seen an alien? It boggles the fucking mind.

What’s more, the fact that they’re within driving distance of the Tanner house means that they must have lots of locations, like the EPA or something, and this is just their local branch. Either that or the Alien Task Force has only one location, and it’s in L.A.

…I’m honestly not sure which possibility is more far-fetched.

The black guy this season gets a few lines. He types in “167 Hemdale” and the computer tells him that this is the second sighting reported for that address, so it might actually be legit. The first sighting? Raquel Ochmonek, in September of last year.

That’s a reference to “Take a Look at Me Now,” which was shit, but I appreciate the attention to detail. Seriously, if nothing else, “Turkey in the Straw: Part 1” is winning me over on continuity. That’s a kind of effort…

In fact, I was so overcome with appreciation for this attention to detail that I did some research to find out if the date of the sighting aligned with the original air date of “Take a Look at Me Now.” No such luck; that episode actually aired in October. Still, that’s very close, and it makes for a genuinely lovely narrative flourish.

Of course, this is not the second sighting at that address. It’s actually the third sighting, as Mrs. Ochmonek also reported one in the pilot. But…who knows. Maybe the Alien Task Force only counts the most recent sighting if it’s a repeat caller. Also, the blonde guy has his left arm in a sling, and I can’t tell if that’s something to do with the character or if the actor hurt himself and they didn’t bother to hide it, or…

FUCK IT WHY DO I GIVE A SHIT THIS SHOW DOESN’T GIVE A SHIT

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

Then the hobo comes in and says hello to ALF, which makes ALF do a big poo, and we get a “Next week on ALF…” teaser that’s about a tenth of this episode’s length.

What a waste of time.

These two-parters are so padded. Why not just whittle them down to 22 minutes of something interesting? “Tonight, Tonight” had an excuse if only because it was adhering to the hour-long Tonight Show format. It was garbage, but attempting verisimilitude was the least of its crimes. And last season we had “Someone to Watch Over Me,” which spun its wheels through the entire first half, eating up as much time as it could before we got to the only thing of merit: the cliffhanger.

…which was botched in the next episode anyway, but the point is you could have easily lost an entire half of that two-parter and been no poorer for it. If anything, you’d be 30 minutes richer.

But whatever. We get a clip-show of the next episode.

One of the clips is of a kid throwing mustard in Willie’s stupid dumbass face.

ALF, "Turkey in the Straw: Part 1"

I take it all back. This is the best episode in the history of the world.

Happy Fappy, bitches!!

MELMAC FACTS: On Melmac, Thanksgiving was called Fappiano. There was a Fappiano tree, and everybody would eat from the moment they woke up until all of the presents were open. There was also some kind of charitable component to the holiday. Much more interesting, though? Instead of microwaves, folks on Melmac had a device called a NukeMan. It was a tiny, personal nuclear power plant, and it was major fad. In fact, ALF says, it was Melmac’s last fad. And now we know why the planet was destroyed.

Radio Free Melmac

ALF, "Don't It Make Your Brown Eyes Blue?"

No idea why it took me so long to think to do this, but, compiled for your listening enjoyment, here is every song to which the ALF episode titles refer.

I figured this might be of interest to folks who don’t know the songs off the top of their heads. An unexpected bonus is the fact that this compilation is…pretty damned listenable, actually. It’s not a half-bad playlist to have going in the background.

Despite the writing quality of the actual show, somebody on staff had very good taste in music. This is also reflected in the episodes themselves, with songs like “City of New Orleans” and “The Letter” making appearances…but in the interest of simplicity I included only the title songs.

On the bright side, this means I didn’t include any of the original songs written for the show, so your listening experience won’t be marred by hearing “The Asparagus Song,” “You’re The One That’s Out of This World (Sweet Bayy-baaay!!!),” or “We Love to Fart” by The Ochmoneks.

If you do give it a listen (or at least a scan) let me know if there’s anything you think I should change. Since these are scattered all over youtube, I might have missed ones with higher sound quality, for instance. In other cases I had to resort to guesswork, particularly in the case of old standards, which seem to have been covered by every popular vocalist in the history of recorded music. I didn’t allow any covers that were released after the airdate of the show, but beyond that, I just guessed based on what other artists were more explicitly drawn from for the show’s titles.

Then there are cases like “On the Road Again,” a title applied to at least three entirely different (and equally applicable) songs by Willie Nelson, Canned Heat, and Bob Dylan. In other words, while I can guarantee around 85% accuracy, I’d love people to tell me what they think I should change.

This can be a pretty cool resource, and everyone will get to hear how much better these songs are than the episodes they inspired.

There’s a pretty good mix of artists, with only a handful getting two songs in the mix. If you’re interested, those are Billy Joel, The Beatles, Elton John, Judy Garland, Roy Orbison, Paul McCartney, Elvis Presley, and The Supremes.

Only one artist has three songs represented in the mix, but depending upon how you want to assign the covers, he could have another one or two. Who is he? Frank Sinatra, of course.

Anyway, here you go. 95 songs. (Bear in mind that a small number of episodes were not named after songs, and that fucking Gilligan’s Island episode was named after two songs.) I hope you enjoy them, and maybe discover some great old tracks that’ll stick with you.

If nothing else, skip to “Keeping the Faith” and watch the world’s most gloriously batshit music video.

You’re welcome.