Innocence Lost

Many people start their day with a cup of coffee and the morning news. I begin my days with a can of Coke and reruns of Saved By The Bell.

I have seen every episode of Saved By The Bell from the early ones that starred Hayley Mills to the college years with Bob Golic. I can recite lines from the show more readily than I can tell you my sister’s birthdate. (“There’s no hope with dope!”) Saved By The Bell was a Saturday morning show during my growing-up years, so I blame the warm fuzzies brought by memories of eating Lucky Charms while sitting in my flannel pajamas for my current morning routine.

I had thought that my attachment to Saved By The Bell would be forever. I thought I would be 89 years old, eating Lucky Charms in my flannel pajamas while an eternally youthful Mark-Paul Gosselaar sold “fixed” lottery tickets to his classmates to raise money to fix Mr. Belding’s car. I thought that the Hot Sundaes would sing, “Put your mind to it! Go for it! Get down and break a sweat!” until my own vocal chords had shriveled and I could no longer speak. I thought the rivalry between Valley and Bayside would live longer than I would.

I thought wrong.

My Saved By The Bell ivory tower came crashing down last evening when I stumbled upon VH1’s Celebrity Fit Club. Being an avid Tivo addict, I never watch live television. Never. I don’t see commercials and I don’t flip channels. But yesterday I went home sick and found myself laying on the couch, remote loosely held in my clammy hand, while I absently flipped from channel to channel. I did this until 2am. Being up all night is the price you pay for napping in the afternoon.

Sometime in the evening, I became engrossed in an episode of Celebrity Fit Club. At first I lingered on the show because Marsha from The Brady Bunch was there. And Da Brat. But then I saw Dustin Diamond, star of Saved By The Bell, lovable Screech with his robot and lucky beret. So I watched, spellbound. And what I saw ripped the heart from my chest: Screech is an asshole.

The man is repugnant beyond words. The argument that ensued from Dustin’s potty mouth was gloriously Jerry Springer and had I not been choked with emotion I may have laughed. Screech stood atop the scale and argued that the Body Mass Index was wrong. He mocked his fellow teammates and insulted everyone around him. Normally this sort of behavior gives me the giggles, but what I saw was not funny. It was the end of an era. It killed any lingering attachment I had to my beloved Saturday morning routine, and now my morning routine is suffering a void.

I will miss you Saved By The Bell. But I won’t miss you, Screech, you asshat. Zach and Slater should never have rescued you after Valley kidnapped you before the big cheerleading championship. Valley’s bulldog was a cuter mascot than you. And better behaved, apparently.