I'm recovering from prostate cancer surgery. Yes, I'm a survivor. But in recovery, I've contracted a far more insidious disease, one simply known as DMV - D-eath by M-iami V-ice.
I bought the first two seasons of the television series to watch during my 3 week recovery period ... what the hell was I thinking?
Jan Hammer's musical direction is brilliant (there was a LOT of junk music in the 80's, but there was a HELL of a LOT of GREAT music too - much of it's on this show). The cars are outstanding. The art deco Miami architecture is way cool. The hairdos are funky, but they match mine even today. And the series DID reinvent the way television dramas went about doing things. No more Mr. Nice Guy and 'Who needs dialog? - Let's spend 3 minutes listening to Peter Gabriel to tell the story.'"
But over the last couple of days I've awoken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, Crockett's Theme song pounding in my brain, the Columbians have shot me in the gut with a Mac 10 and GOD does that hurt, and to top it all off, Sonny's pet alligator, Elvis, has me in a death roll and is chomping on my privates, only to discover that:
a. I fell asleep with the headphones on in bed, the DVD is playing over and over and over and over
b. I DO have holes in me, but not from a Mac 10. The ones I have were put there on purpose by my surgeon.
c. Elvis the alligator is NOT trying to kill me, my catheter bag chord is twisted
d. It's time for more pain meds
There's just so much I need to warn you about - And yet, tragically, I cannot.
3 weeks ago