Every Dog Must Have Its Day (or Two Days in This Case)

Did you see that NBC mini-series this past week? I think its title was "10.5 Cliche Apocalypse." It had to be perhaps the worst TV movie ever, and, yet, at the same time, absolutely riveting.
It was like every cliche ever done in every B movie joins forces with the worst special effects Hollywood has ever produced (at least in the past 50 years) and attacks every landmark that the average semi-brain-dead TV viewer could possibly imagine. In one action-packed mini-series you get to see nature in all its fury attack Hawaii, Las Vegas, the Hoover Dam, Mount Rushmore and much more. How cool can you get? The only thing the writers forgot was to give someone a mild case of bird flu. There, my friend, would go the perfect screenplay.
What was particularly touching about the movie though was that in the midst of absolutely devastating destruction and unparalleled loss of life, the key characters took the time to have meaningful dialogue with one another. For instance, there was the President's semi-homely (think an ugly Amy Carter, if your mind will allow you to do that) daughter who feels over protected and wants to prove she's up to the challenge of helping to save lives. The only problem is she really can't save lives. In fact, she can't do much more than carry towels around the earthquake torn areas. First, why would FEMA waste money sending someone to a disaster relief site who had no more skills than carrying towels? Oops, I guess I answered my own question.
Anyway the daughter gets out into the field and immediately realizes she can't put her finger in the open wound of another person without nearly passing out. So the good doctor stops trying to help the injured and begins his own special process of helping the President's daughter to heal emotionally. I'm sure that if I were bleeding to death I'd be more than understanding if such a thing were to happen.
Then there was this lady scientist who is evidently fighting the emotional demons of having a brilliant scientist father who after getting his feelings hurt parlays his genius into a successful poker career. Finally, as fate would have it, the father and daughter are reunited. And, as the United States splits into two killing everyone in the path of a fast-moving cartoon crevice, father and daughter take a little time out to reflect on their troubled past. Very touching, I must say.
There were other great story lines masterfully woven into the spellbinding plot. And I stayed in a constant state of amazement that all of the main characters had time to resolve their silly little personal issues while virtually everyone they knew was lying dead around them. Wouldn't it be nice if in real life, we stopped worrying about trivialities like people dying, and took the time to really get in touch with our feelings?
The most amazing thing about the whole story was that there was no hero...no one came along and saved the day. Despite the fact that the brilliant card-playing ex-scientist proclaims, "Hey, we have a great big world to save," in the end, the rift in the earth's substrata (or whatever) won. It tore the U.S. in two, in a most animated way.
But, and here's the really touching part, just before the credits (blames) roll, President Beau Bridges states rather philosophically, in so many words, "Well the country has been cut in half, but we're still one country." Nothing truly unites a nation like a new fault line creating a permanent geo-physical split down its center. I guess the basic moral of the story was it doesn't really matter how many people die. As long as you can end up with a comforting cliche all is right in the world.
I, for one, don't buy into that theory. As my old pappy used to tell me, "Son," he said. "Avoid cliches like the plague." I've always subscribed to his (my pappy's) theory, and all I can say is that all's well that ends well. Or, do I say if life hands you a lemon, make lemonade? Funny, I can't remember what it is I always say, but I'm always saying it, that's for sure.