The Worst TV Show Ever?

Model car kit like the one assembled by the author, ca. 1966

Regular readers of Lugubrious Drollery, if such a class of human beings exists, will be aware that the author has what some might call a disturbing fascination with the contempible. Previous posts have investigated the most boring book of all time, the closely related topic of the weirdest book title, the most hideously decorated cakes, the worst vice-presidential candidate (Sarah Palin), the lowliest weed (burdock), the most maligned mineral (asbestos), and of course, the worst U.S. Presidents, especially that perpetual object of scorn and rebuke, Franklin Pierce.

Recent interactions with fellow bloggers have started me thinking about a television show that has been ranked by TV Guide as one of the worst TV shows ever produced, ranking just above The Jerry Springer Show, which was designated as the worst. Considering the vast collection of dreck broadcast over the airwaves over the last sixty years or so, that's quite a distinction. The show singled out for this dubious honor was My Mother the Car. Thirty episodes were aired in 1965 and 1966, and then it was all over. I don't believe the show was ever brought back in syndication, although a few episodes are now available for viewing on YouTube.

What initially reminded me of MMTC was a post about the fantasy TV shows of the 60s, including The Flying Nun, at the blog of W.Z. Snyder, #167 Dad. He mentioned the premise of MMTC--a guy's mother is reincarnated as a 1928 Porter automobile--which reminded me that one of the many model cars I assembled as a nerdy adolescent was My Mother the Car (shown above). After that, I couldn't get this fragment of the theme song from MMTC out of my head:

A 1928 Porter
That's my mother dear
She helps me through
Everything I do
And I'm so glad she's here

As if that weren't bad enough, Matthew Coniam, at his blog The Marx Brothers Council of Britain, stirred up more memories when his post about director Norman Z. McLeod included a poster for the movie Swing Shift Maisie (1943). The poster features the young and beautiful star Ann Sothern, who went on to have her own TV show, and still later was the voice of none other than My Mother the Car.

Now that MMTC has been forced back into my consciousness, I have done some research and found out the following about the show:

Jerry VanDyke, brother of Dick VanDyke, turned down the part of Gilligan in Gilligan's Island to play Dave Crabtree, the lead in MMTC.

Two cars were used to film the series. Neither was a real Porter. They were assembled from parts of other old cars plus some custom made parts by George Barris, who also created the Batmobile for the Batman TV series, the Munster Koach, and many other cars for TV and the movies. The power train consisted of a 283 cu. in. Chevy V8 and a Powerglide automatic transmission. One of the "Porters" was a stunt car with the floorboards removed and equipped with mirrors so the driver could be out of sight in scenes where Mother was supposed to be traveling around on her own.

Was MMTC really any worse than shows about a witch in the suburbs, a Martian masquerading as an earthling's uncle, hillbillies living in a mansion, etc., etc.? In my opinion, it's a close race.

One thing MMTC had going for it was the fact it was created by Allan Burns and Chris Hayward, who also created The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show, which usually had great titles for its episodes. Some of this same brilliance shines through in the titles of the MMTC episodes. The complete list follows:

"Come Honk Your Horn"
"The De-Fenders"
"What Makes Auntie Freeze"
"Lassie, I Mean Mother, Come Home"
"Burned at the Steak"
"I'm Through Being a Nice Guy"
"Lights, Camera, Mother"
"The Captain Manzini Grand Prix"
"TV or Not TV"
"My Son, the Ventriloquist"
"My Son, the Judge"
"And Leave the Drive-In to Us"
"For Whom the Horn Honks"
"Hey Lady, Your Slip Isn't Showing"
"Many Happy No-Returns"
"Shine On, Shine On, Honeymoon"
"I Remember Mama, Why Can't You Remember Me?"
"Goldporter"
"The Incredible Shrinking Car"
"I'd Rather Do it Myself, Mother"
"You Can't Get There From Here"
"A Riddler on the Roof"
"My Son, the Criminal"
"An Unreasonable Facsimile"
"Over the Hill to the Junkyard"
"It Might as Well Be Spring as Not"
"Absorba the Greek"
"The Blabbermouth"
"When You Wish Upon a Car"
"Desperate Minutes"

I've watched part of the first episode, "Come Honk Your Horn" (a takeoff on "Come Blow Your Horn," Neil Simon's first play, later a movie starring Frank Sinatra), on YouTube, and I'd have to say the title is the best part of the show.

The Most Boring Book Ever Written

William James Sidis (1898-1944) was an enigmatic character and a child prodigy. He spoke his first word ("door") at six months and was reading the New York Times at 18 months. He mastered numerous languages and even created his own language, called Vendergood. At age 9, he lectured the Harvard math club about the fourth dimension and entered Harvard as a student at age 11. Although his IQ was never formally tested, it has been estimated it was in the range of 250-300. His father Boris, a psychologist, and his mother Sarah, who graduated from medical school but never practiced, claimed their child-rearing methods were responsible for their son's genius. Despite his early promise, after an abortive attempt at teaching math at Rice in Houston, William James Sidis avoided academia as an adult. His preferred job was operating a comptometer, a calculating machine at which he was quite adept, but which did not require significant mental exertion on his part. He refused to take a job with any potential for promotion, and lived alone in a modest furnished apartment in Boston. His story is fascinating, and I would refer the interested reader to the biography, The Prodigy, by Amy Wallace.

Sidis received a lot of negative press for his eccentricity and perceived lack of success in life. He did, however, write extensively, usually under pseudonyms, on a variety of topics, including cosmology, history, and language. Only two of his book-length manuscripts were published. The first, The Animate and the Inanimate, which was published with the author's real name, predicted the presence of black holes. The second book, Notes on the Collection of Transfers, is a 300-page tome about peridromophilia, Sidis' peculiar hobby of collecting street car transfers. Sidis used the nom de plume Frank Falupa when he wrote the book. In The Prodigy, Amy Wallace states, "This book is arguably the most boring book ever written." In it, Sidis describes in excructiating detail the principles behind transfers, their physical appearance, and even how to collect discarded transfers off the street. For instance, if the paper transfer is frozen in ice, it is better to chip out the ticket and surrounding ice and take it home to thaw out, rather than to risk damage by trying to peel the paper off the ice on site.

And so forth.

Wallace mentions a few other contenders for the honor of most boring book. Nothing, by Methela, consisted of 200 blank pages. The Feminin Monarchi, written by Charles Butler in 1634, was a history of bees in phonetic spelling.

And so forth.

Now, there is a book--a book that has already been hailed as having the the oddest title of the last thirty years--with soporific potential which may approach that of Notes on the Collection of Transfers. As The Guardian reported on September 5, 2008:

The people have spoken and the oddest book title of the past 30 years has been selected: Greek Rural Postmen and their Cancellation Numbers. The impenetrable-sounding book, a comprehensive record of Greece's postal routes, is published by the Greek Hellenic Philatelic Society of Great Britain, which "exists to encourage the collection of Greek stamps and to promote their study".

In previous posts, I have mentioned the Diagram Prize, awarded annually by Bookseller magazine for the oddest book title of the year. This year, Bookseller awarded the Diagram of Diagrams to the book with the oddest title of the last 30 years. While the cover of Greek Rural Postmen and their Cancellation Numbers looks equally as boring as the cover of Notes on the Collection of Transfers, I'm not sure the scant 72 pages of text of the newer book can seriously challenge the 300 pages of Sidis' work. If any readers of this blog have access to these books and the stamina to slog through both, please report back.

Click on this link to see a gallery of some of the past annual Diagram winners which were considered for the Diagram of Diagrams Prize.