There is something so soothing about a relatively new episode of The Simpsons. Hell, even old ones are like chicken soup to an abused body on a bad day. I'm nauseous. I'm in bed. I'm stressed. My feet are cold. The Simpsons are on. Who cares about the rest of it. I'm laughing.
There are some constants in life that, if you are lucky, are always there to make you feel better. Warm blankets. Hot showers after a long day doing dirty work. A kiss on the cheek and a quick squeeze to the hand that you didn't expect. The Simpsons. It's been on for twice as long as my child has been on this planet. She literally has grown up watching them. She and her dad have watched them as a regular event of the evening....because there is an endless pool of Simpsons....since she could speak. In lieu of words to express her disappointment, she would emote a Marge disapproval moan. I use the Ralphie laugh to communicate "I'm silly." "Doh!" is a universal,well, doh. It has been ingrained in us.
I hear that the production is now on a two year contract which normally they would renew. But this last year was touch and go. Could there someday be an end to....gulp...the comfort food of television in the near future? God, I hope no. I hope it runs until the actors drop dead at the microphone from old age. It's like marriage. As stale or wonderful as it could be sometimes (and in the 20 odd years since its been on, there has to be some lemons), you get used to the comfort of thinking its going to be there forever. And then someone goes and quits or dies.
So life will be without The Simpsons someday. It's better not to think of it and enjoy the moment on Sundays when I knew absurd idea reflecting our society is born to the world, grateful for the endless supply of reruns that will make it seem young far longer than it really is.
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