Tag Archives: Drugs

Seventh Heaven is the worst show in the history of television

I’ve been thinking about Seventh Heaven all day. It came out of nowhere. That stupid theme song just popped in my head, kind of in the background at first, like I don’t remember when it actually started, but it must have been imperceptible, gently blending in behind all of my other thoughts, slowly working its way into the forefront of my consciousness. And then it was all I could hear, that, “Oooooooh Seventh Heaven,” over and over again. It’s terrible.

And I haven’t thought about Seventh Heaven in forever, so my mind, while chewing on the never-ending theme song stuck on loop, it’s been digging up basically every Seventh Heaven related memory I have stored inside my brain. After having not thought about it in years, I can’t believe how terrible that show really was. Even worse than I remember. I can’t believe I actually watched it.

It started airing when I was in seventh grade. Seventh grade. Seventh Heaven. I’m trying to think of some sort of a connection, but I think that’s it, really, and it’s not even much of a connection at all. Or it could be a sign, from God, telling seventh grade me to watch Seventh Heaven. Seeing as how the show is all about cookie-cutter morality all draped in a semi-religious backdrop, I guess that makes about as much sense as any.

Who knows why I started watching the show? When you’re twelve years old, you’ll watch anything. It was on regular TV. It was on at like eight at night. What else would I be doing? Homework? Please. I never did homework.

Growing up, we weren’t allowed to watch a majority of what was on TV. No Fresh Prince. No Blossom. All way too mature I guess. Whatever, part of me wished my mom had banned Seventh Heaven, if only to spare me the nonsensical bullshit of the Camden family every week for the next five years of my life.

The dad’s a minister. The Reverend. As Newt Gingrich told Mitt Romney last year, “Enough of the pious baloney.” The whole premise of the show was a constant stream of black and white, good and evil garbage. On especially bad episodes, they whole program would basically turn into an hour long PSA. Forget plot, forget characters. Just get to the pointing of a random topic and start sermonizing about it.

There was a video game episode. One of the kids got a Game Boy but the parents tied the whole thing into a culture of desensitizing violence. There’s an episode where the brother starts smoking cigarettes. There are bullies at school. Cutting. Bulimia. Drinking, drugs, fireworks. Vandalism. Acne. Literally, just name some random topic, some random ill of society, and on that given week, every single member of the family will independently be confronted with and will have to deal with that specific topic.

Everything, every problem, every question, there’s always a clear-cut answer. No in betweens, no halfway, no gray areas. And while there’s always a lesson to be learned, usually coming right at you directly from the Reverend’s pulpit, they’ll always manage to dramatize the situation even further by demonstrating at length why good is good and just how evil all things evil really are.

One week the older brother Matt gets tempted with marijuana. He never smokes it, of course, but he drops the joint accidentally in front of his house. The mom finds it. The kids find it and think it’s the mom’s. Everyone in the family is all at the same time talking to each other about the evils of marijuana. The whole thing comes to a climax in the form of a good old fashioned family meeting. After the Reverend threatens to drug test everyone in the household, Matt admits it was his, at which point the little brother Simon flips out, starts crying, screaming about how his older brother really let him down.

In the world of Seventh Heaven, the act of simply considering marijuana makes you a full-fledged junkie. One sip of beer makes you drunk, and getting behind the wheel after that one sip makes you a felon. And don’t think you can get away with anything, because the Reverend owns the police. He’s got Sergeant Michaels on speed dial, ready and willing to do whatever it takes to maintain peace and harmony.

Seventh Heaven was terrible, a truly awful, awful, terrible TV show. I can’t believe it was shown to a national audience. A bunch of bullshit ridiculous preachy sermonizing from a totally unrealistic family set in a town that doesn’t resemble any real place I’ve ever been to in my life. You want to watch TV and get lectured? Not me. I want to watch crime and space travel and really stupid funny stuff. Fucking Seventh Heaven.

I’ve had just about enough of these unfounded claims and unwarranted accusations

If everyone would just stop staring at me for a second, I’m sure I’ll be able to explain. Those rumors you’ve been hearing about me are, well, they’re just that, rumors. And think about it, who would want to spread rumors about me? It doesn’t make any sense, right? But it totally makes sense. It was Andre. That asshole’s had it out for me for months. Ever since that picnic. You don’t know Andre? Good, forget I mentioned it. And don’t ask anybody about him. And don’t look him up on facebook. Trust me, he’s a huge loser and everything he’s been saying about me is a total lie. It stems mostly, I think, from a deep-seated jealousy, or a hatred, but that’s beside the point.

Those drugs? What can I say, except that they weren’t mine? I don’t really do drugs. I mean, that doesn’t count, I mean, I don’t really consider that a drug. But someone’s obviously trying to set me up. And I can only think of one person. But I’m not in the business of naming names, pointing fingers. I’m not going to stoop down to anyone else’s level. Nobody ever stoops down to my level, so why should I return the favor? Why are you looking at your cell phone? Is it Andre?

No, I’m just joking. I don’t even know any Andre. Just forget he exists. And I don’t even know what you’re talking about, drugs. I’ve never seen any drugs. Somebody must have made all of that stuff up. Why would I bring it up? I don’t know, I thought you were going to bring it up. Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. A lot of nonsense. I heard this rumor that someone’s spreading some gossip about money and some drugs and, you know who’s really into drugs, right? Andre. You’re sure you’ve never met him, right? Good. Trust me, you’re going to want to keep it that way. He’ll ask you for five dollars, no big deal right? And he’ll wait you out like a month, two months, and then he’ll pay you back. And then like a week later he’s asking you for twenty, then fifty, then twenty again. And he’ll pay those back too, eventually. But then there’s a call in the middle of the night, and it’s Andre, and he needs five hundred dollars, right now, he can’t explain, but it’s urgent, but he’ll pay you back seven fifty tomorrow, the very next day. And then he disappears for a while.

Well just forget everything I said then. But ask around, Andre’s bad news. But don’t ask around, don’t talk about him unless someone brings him up. And if it comes up, and you’re roped into a conversation about him, let whoever you’re talking to know that I had nothing to do with any of this nonsense. Don’t like put it in there like I asked you to say something, just drop it in naturally, gracefully. And if this person still insists on continuing to talk about Andre, ask if they’ve seen my eight hundred dollars anywhere. I can’t find it. I started asking around about my money and all of the sudden there’re these rumors about me and drugs and …

No I never joined a cult. Fucking Andre. I went to one party, one time. I thought it was going to be a social thing. Yeah, maybe it was a little culty, but I didn’t bring anybody. Well, I didn’t force that person to come with me. They just came. And it’s not my fault if they found the whole presentation really convincing. You’ve got to stop asking so many questions. Don’t you trust me? Aren’t we friends?

Listen, do you have five dollars? I just went to the deli to get a sandwich and I totally forgot my wallet. I know, I’m such a space cadet sometimes. Anyway, the guy told me I could have the sandwich and pay him back next time, because I’m always getting sandwiches at that deli, I’m a regular. More than a regular. Seriously, the sandwich guy invited me to his wife’s baby shower. I couldn’t go, but I sent a gift. But I feel really bad about the sandwich, like what if I go back to pay him later but there’s a different deli guy behind the counter? And even though the guy says he’ll pass along the five bucks, what if he never does? And what if I go back the next day to get another sandwich, and my sandwich guy thinks that I haven’t paid him back? Like I’m just ignoring it? And he’s not going to say anything, he’s just going to stuff it inside, a little deeper, trying to forget about it, to let bygones be bygones, but it’ll grow, and he won’t forget, and the next time I forget my wallet, he’s just going to be like, sorry man, no money, no sandwich. No exceptions. And he’ll point to a little sign that he printed out on his computer, it’ll say exactly that, “No money …” just like I just said.

Thanks a lot. I’ll pay you back tomorrow. No, I’ll pay you back tonight. I’ll pay you six dollars. Just take it, I insist. I’m good for it. I’m a good guy. You tell that to Andre if you see him. Well, if anybody mentions Andre to you, you tell whoever’s talking about him that I’m a good guy. Well then just forget I said anything. Yeah, just forget all of it.