Newsday TV Book, May 26-June 1, 1974.

I was hoping to have this edition posted several days ago, but there's been non-stop feline drama at the Non-Parader household. But I don't want to bore you with our tabby troubles; I want to bore you with these forty-eight-year-old television listings!

First, on the cover, Johnny Carson is besieged by Emmy statuettes as he prepares to host the 26th Annual Emmy Awards Show. (Click pics to fix.)

As you will read in the Carol Burton-penned story, this year's broadcast was "controversial" because they introduced the "Super Emmy," a concept that lasted for precisely this year and then was abandoned because it was really, really stupid.

Dynarama! Emergency! The adorable Kerry MacLane! All these stimulating topics--and more!--enlivened the TV Line this week.

Less enthusiastic about exclamation points is reviewer John Cashman, denigrating an Elvis flick. Elsewhere on the Sunday late schedule page, Illustrator Gary Viskupic imbues an Indy car with wings o' fire (wait, no, they’re just molting) for a close-up on that day's race.

Viskupic sketches for another automotive program catering to gear-heads (Car-heads? Head-cars?) with one of his specialties, a drawing that just seems goofy at first glance, but which you find more and more unsettling as you examine it, even if you can't quite put your finger on why. Maybe it's just me.
Also: Hodgepodge Lodge.

Here's the ballot for that Emmys fiasco. If you've forgotten, Mr. and Mrs. Mark Spitz, respectively, was and was married to the Olympic champion swimmer. They were present for no reason discernible to any person outside of 1974.

The Wednesday late listings feature some great programming, as well as a Newman illustration of a guy with a ukulele on his head. Leave the surrealism to Visk, Newman.

Much like the Nixon impeachment hearings, Viskupic's twisted take on the youth-focused culture appears horrifying initially and gets worse the longer it's witnessed. If five-year-old me saw this page, he thoughtfully blocked it out for older me.

The first of a couple of Ned Levine pictures is a fishy Monty Hall, musically romping through Sea World. Burbling alongside him are Florence Henderson and Bobby Sherman, so it says, thus putting the lie to the "musical" part.

Continuing the uninspired theme of heads-as-things-other-than-heads, Levine inks Geraldo Rivera's cabeza as cradle to a then-not-vintage teléfono. Saturday evening's listings surround, in a poorly-executed scan that I cannot be bothered to redo because I need to go hand-feed a kitten with a broken leg, the mama cat managed to roll a cinder block onto it, holy shit don't even ask.

No Fright Night on WOR thanks to Geraldo's telethon, but there was a trio of doomed pilots on NBC which sound like they might be interesting to view now. Realistically, however, I'm sure they are every bit as insufferable in the present as they apparently were back then, Pat Cooper or no Pat Cooper.

1,6 Across: The most overrated man in show business, pictured

Holiday Spa continues its "When you gonna do it?" campaign, promising to "round you, make you more desirable than ever." (I'm rounding myself with the help of Little Debbie, thank you.)

On the back cover, Colonial Shoppes advertises a Memorial Day sale that would surely arouse Martha Washington herself. "Biscuit-tufted backs!" she'd swoon. George, begrudgingly along for the Sunday browsing, half-heartedly smiles, exposing his own wood parts.

That'll do it! Gotta go! I got a kitten to feed, yes indeed!