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Schitt's Creek


I've finally been watching episodes of Schitt's Creek in recent days. This is amazing -- it's been a "thing" for six years, it includes two of my favorite comedians, but only now am I catching up with it. 

Well ... better late than never, and this gives me something for an election day post that has nothing to do with the election, which is a plus. 

The two great comedians at the heart of the show are: Catherine O'Hara as Moira Rose, and Eugene Levy -- pictured here -- as her husband, Johnny Rose. They were both in the ensemble that put together SCTV in the old days, a sketch comedy show of utter brilliance. I remember especially O'Hara's Margaret Meehan, a quiz show contestant who would ALWAYS hit the buzzer before the question was complete, answering the fragment she had heard and losing the points to the embarrassment of her teammates.  Eugene Levy was the game show contestant in that same bit, named "Alex Trebel." (Hmmm -- wonder if the writers had any real person in mind there.) 

Anyway, as the Roses they are again brilliant. The set-up is classic fish-out-of-water comedy. Moira is a successful soap opera actress and fervid organizer of philanthropic fundraisers. Johnny is the owner/manager of a television production company. They and their adult children are rich. When the kids were young nannies and boarding schools took care of them. This life takes place in a huge mansion we get to see only in the opening scene of the first episode. Life there was good. 

But disaster strikes and they have to downsize considerably. They are soon living in two adjacent hotel rooms -- no, motel rooms -- in the town of Schitt's Creek, young adult son and daughter in one room, mom and dad in the other. The town seems to them to be aptly named. 

One small funny bit in that opening episode -- indeed in the opening moments. The camera's point of view is inside a spacious mansion. We hear an imperative knocking on the front doors, and watch a maid walk across the foyer. She opens those doors (opening both at once, inward toward herself in what I think of as classic Hollywood doors-to-a-mansion fashion), only to find heavily armed feds outside.

The maid asks, resignedly, "Immigration?" 

The one word answer, which gives her a moment of relief, "Revenue."  

Somehow it seems to me this is a pertinent thought to bring to your attention as people vote today. Those who don't fear a knock for one of those two reasons may fear a knock for the other. There are other reasons as well. And perhaps everyone has some reason to fear a life-downgrading knock. 

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