Last week, the news of the day just got to me.
Scandals, graft, partisanship, falsehoods.
Wildfires, earthquakes, volcanoes, tornadoes.
Cruelty, abuse.
Tariffs, taxes.
Chaos.
It was just too much. The siege breached my defenses and I fell into a major depression. Dark. Caged. Compressed. Inescapable.
Wait . . . did I say “inescapable?” Scratch that, for I did, indeed, find an escape.
It came in the form of a nebbish named Philip Rosenthal (and I say “nebbish” not as a pejorative, but as an endearment).
Phil is a writer and producer, perhaps best known to you as creator of the show “Everybody Loves Raymond.” For me, though, he is best known as the host of two shows about travel and food.
His newest travel/foodie show is “Somebody Feed Phil,” two seasons of which are available via Netflix. Aside from a new theme song and some fancy-schmancy 4K cameras (totally worth it), it’s pretty much indistinguishable from his previous show, “I’ll Have What Phil’s Having,” which you can find streaming on Amazon Prime as well as Netflix.
The show has a very simple format. Phil travels to a place. Phil meets people who show him around. Phil eats a bunch of amazing food. Phil calls his folks back home via Skype. Roll credits.
It’s a formula not unlike many other travel/foodie shows, and due to that similarity, the aspect that sets his show apart is, of course, Phil himself.
And Phil is wonderful.
The reason Phil is wonderful is clear: Phil loves people, and truly believes in the better angels of our nature. Throughout his adventures in new countries, unfamiliar cultures, exotic cuisines, Phil explores regions slightly outside his comfort zone with his typical Jewish humor: “What’s the worst that could happen? I’d drop dead,” he says with a wink and a grin. He’s self-effacing in an “everyman” way. He’s infectiously enthusiastic. He’s compassionate and generous in equal measure, wanting to share the bounty of his own admitted good fortune (he adores his job and knows he’s an incredibly lucky guy) with those around him, even to the point where, when seated alone at a restaurant, he’ll seat one or two of the production crew down with him, because “What’s the point of good food if not to share?”
He’s gangly and goofy and wry and unabashedly effusive amongst friends and strangers alike (though with Phil, there are no strangers, only friends he’s not made yet.)
While I’m much too reticent to be like Phil in that way, I admire that quality, and I thoroughly enjoy watching Phil thoroughly enjoy whatever he’s doing, even when he isn’t so sure it’s a good idea.
And, to boot, he’s a good boy who always calls his mother and father once per show, sharing with them the things he’s encountered while on the road.
So . . . when the news of the day gets to you—and let’s be honest, it will—take a breather and spend an hour with a kind-hearted goofball.
It’ll soothe your burdened soul.
k
OK, but what about the cat? You are supposed to relieve stress by taking care of the cat. Think about the cat, don’t think about anything else.
LikeLiked by 1 person
She’s been a boon, except for the early morning bring-the-toy-onto-the-bed-and-play-with-it sessions. But a cat can only do so much.
LikeLiked by 1 person