I begin this internship having recently clawed my way back into society after escaping the grips of the common cold. The last week has been packed with a variety of riveting activities that range from staring up at my ceiling to staring straight ahead at my wall, broken up by the occasional times I dragged myself out of bed to make soup.
A harrowing ordeal indeed, but from the depths of cough drops and Vitamin C packets, I have risen all the way to the Defector office. I would never have made this miraculous turnaround in mind, body, and spirit if it weren't for the perplexing world of The Patty Duke Show, which carried me through my sickness.
No show is as perfectly suited for the feverish mind as The Patty Duke Show. In this 1960s sitcom, Patty Duke plays a pair of identical cousins engaging in typical sitcom hijinks, like plagiarizing the works of Ernest Hemingway and engaging in labor negotiations over household chores. According to the theme song, Patty has never left Brooklyn Heights and loves rock music. Also, hot dogs “make her lose control.” Her cousin Cathy is a far more sophisticated and well-traveled teenager from Europe (just "Europe," generally) who has come to live with Patty’s side of the family. The theme song doesn't explain what, if anything, hot dogs do to her.
Why would someone make this show? Couldn’t tell you. How is it even possible to have identical cousins? It’s best not to concern yourself with these complex mysteries of genetic inheritance. It’s a concept that only exists in the world of 1960s television, where anything is possible as long as it fits within the nuclear family. But lest you think The Patty Duke Show is a relic lost to the past, consider how much sense it might make to a modern viewer who is existing in the hazy state between a dose of Nyquil and the REM cycle. The normal rhythms of a '60s sitcom lull the sick mind into a state of sleep, until all of a sudden a new ridiculous concept breaks through, like the introduction of a third identical cousin with a southern accent. In this delirium, everything about the concept is so beautifully ridiculous and yet perfectly believable. Just like the characters in the show, you come to think, identical cousins? Sure! Why would you even question that?
By the time I could once again breathe through my nose, my mind was similarly rejuvenated. I had finally come to understand the great mystery of Patty Duke, and I had perfected my method for microwaved chicken noodle soup. What more do you need for an internship at Defector?
Having now reached this enlightened mental state, I am looking forward to writing about baseball, the World Cup, and perhaps more absurd but life-changing mid-century sitcoms, if they happen to cross my path.
