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  • Writer's picturePhillip Gerson

Live From My Mind....

Updated: Feb 26, 2021

I promise you I am not going to become an annoying nerd in the blog entry this evening. I am not going to force you to listen to my obsessions with 90s SNL, how that was the greatest era of SNL comedy and that cannot be questioned, sure the Gilda Radner and Dan Aykroyd days were superb, and then there are the Eddie Murphy years, but I am sorry, there can be no debate, I will not allow it, I mean the show is good now, and the seasons with Tina Fey were remarkable, but let us not forget, we are talking about the 90s. But, once again, I do not want to bore you with that. With my many posts and essays on the topic. What we must remember, is that I am not a nerd and what I want to talk about is the visceral reminiscence I feel while watching the cold open of SNL. And it is when the sax of the pleasantly inevitable intro music kicks in and the opening credits are rolling, that is when I really start to feel it.

Zip back to bittersweet reflections in a hall of mirrors of myself at the age of 11, finally making it to the cold open, after many, many attempts in which I pass out at 10:45pm, or 11pm, or 11:28pm, I just could not do it and, of course, my dad would guide me to my bed to go to sleep, I would wake up confused, disappointed, determined. I believed and still believe that SNL is a rite of passage into the world of late night things. TV shows we would only hear about from our parents. Seeing the stars of cookie cutter family comedies, actually doing what they want, writing what they want to write. When I hear that intro music I get so proud of myself for catching a few glimpses of adulthood.

I should also mention the closing tune as it retains the same emotional pull for me. When that piano riff kicks in I can feel the satisfied feeling, and then suddenly in shock, and shock of the best sorts. One night, while SNL's guests and cast were gathering on stage, and I stood up clapping with them, and I look over and see both of my parents sleeping on the couch, snoring away. I was the last man standing, It was the 90s and I was a late night king. So I rest my case that the 90s were best. End of story. And Live from My Mind, it was Saturday Night.

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