I have a new guilty pleasure: "My Name is Earl"
When this show first hit the airwaves, I dismissed it. Rednecks and karma. Who'da thunk it?
But I'm a sucker for good social satire, and being a lifelong resident of the Deep South, I can tell you as an expert: whoever writes this show understands redneck culture. I mean REALLY understands it. (I'm this close to adopting "snap!" -- 'scuse me, "suh-na-up!" -- as my new catchprase.)
So now I'm busy catching up on re-runs. But even with junk food TV, I still can't get away from Anglicanism and theology and all that stuff.
"Earl" plots are never easy to explain, so I won't attempt to unravel all of it here. (How they ever come up with a synopsis of this show for TV Guide every week, I'll never understand.) But this week's convoluted plot was all about lying for the sake of unity.
Joy can't admit to her parents that she and Earl have divorced, so she's attributed his absence to going off to fight in Iraq. She can't tell them her new husband is black, so she's explained away her youngest child's multiracial appearance in an interesting, if scientifically questionable, way. Meanwhile, Joy's mom has a gambling problem, so she's faking arthritis, paralysis, and kidney failure as a way to get betting money (she tells her husband the dialysis center gives a 10% discount for cash payments). Joy's dad, meanwhile, has a few secrets of his own.
And as Earl finds out their secrets, one by one, they all echo Joy's mom's favorite refrain: "Don't you judge me!"
Trouble is, Earl's acquired a conscience. He can't keep lying for all these people - it's bad karma, as he puts it. Before long, Earl blabs, and the argument that erupts in the wake of all these revelations lasts all night long Christmas Eve. But by morning, there are no more secrets. All that's left, Earl says, is for everyone to just enjoy each other's company on Christmas Day.
So what does Earl learn?
1) Everybody's got some dirt on 'em.
2) Everybody thinks their dirt is worse than everybody else's, and they fear being looked down on for it.
3) Once you own up to your dirt, though, people and relationships heal. It might even prompt someone else to own up to his or her own dirt. And who knows where it'll all end?
Earl as a theologian ... who'da thunk it?
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