Join me in welcoming the Cranky Old Guy back to the blog. Cranky Old Guy is a fine writer in his own right and can produce entertaining prose on just about any subject, yet all he ever seems to write about is the dumb stuff that happens all around him – supply is always robust. It turns out that the main thing that turns old guys into cranky old guys is, well, dumb shit … and so we have the latest diatribe by the gray-haired chapass.
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So there’s only one person left on Gilligan’s Island. If you had Ginger in the castaways’ pool, then congrats. TV was better when there were only five or six channels and everyone huddled around the set on a Wednesday night to watch seven knuckleheads on a desert island trying to get reception from a radio made out of a coconut. But the real legacy of a show like Gilligan’s Island is that the two single girls on the show gave rise to one of the most important debates in popular culture.
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There was a funky market in a California beach town. You could buy snacks, knick-knacks, a decent bottle of wine. In time they added a damn good meat market and fresh produce and odds and ends that met the vibe of people who had just stepped off the sand. In essence, this little corner establishment was a “gourmet market” thirty years before there was such a thing. Time marched on, things changed.