Newsday TV Book, December 25-31, 1977.

Merry Christmas! And I'm only a day late! Well, for Christmas, anyway--this is the entire week spanning Christmas to New Year's Eve after all, so it was still a pretty darn festive time. As usual at this time of year, I only have so much time to upload these (how the hell do people with kids get anything done?!?), so I'll just post now and fill in the wisecrackery later.
[Later: Done.]

This beautiful Disney cover is the first of its kind in my collection, with quite a few more unique illustrations gracing later yuletide issues as well. (Looks like Gary Viskupic had the week off.)

In the TV Line, there's a lot about tape vs. film, a little about Ann-Margret's parental status, and Louise Laser [sic].

In Cable TV Highlights, Cinema 100 dropped the cable premiere of Rocky at forty minutes past midnight on New Year's Eve, so lots of Huntington-area partiers probably caught the first half or so before passing out. Alternatively, you could have tuned in to HBO for a little Shecky Greene. As TV Book reviewer John Cashman might have said, "Go to sleep."

Here's all of Christmas Sunday, with holiday programming denoted with an X by the mature Non-Parader, because it was precisely the kind of thing the wee Non-Parader would have done. There are ads for hypnosis and hair transplants, one with the Noseless Preggo, and gift ideas from Ed's Tropical Aquariums, where the usual ten-gallon starter set was now the "Christmas Starter Set."
At 3:45am you could have tuned in The First Estate, WNBC's newsmagazine about religion, and I will now save you from having to "see 9:30 AM for details." The details are as follows: "Christmas."

Monday night, with the premiere of a Kurt Russell TV movie I only remember by its re-title: The Christmas Coal Mine Miracle. For film fans it was Spielberg or Fields in the late hours, with Joe Franklin a dark, combed-over horse.

Here's Wednesday night, with a close-up on Great Performances and the intriguing and oddly acrobatic Pilobolus Dance Theatre.

A few years later, another Pilobolus special had a work called "Molly's Not Dead" that my buddy Mike and I would re-enact in the schoolyard. It wasn't the dancing part so much, just the bit where one performer carried another in his arms and said toward the audience, "Pa? Molly's dead. She ate some leaves." And then, as in the show, I'd walk around singing, "Oh, Molly's not dead... she's only a-sleepin'..." with Mike limp in my arms like a sack of dog food (except lighter).

I recall this peculiar performance occurring in winter months, when we St. Pius X students were forced to have recess in the front parking lot, running around on asphalt. One time my mom was at the school, doing whatever school moms did, and she happened to see this act. She later said to me, sternly, "His father just died, that's all his poor mother needs is for you to drop him on his head in the parking lot. Don't do that anymore!" But, as I recall, I did do it again, just being extra careful not to drop him on his head—although I'm sure there were many other instances of way more injurious horseplay happening, and pretty much all the time. Seriously, when I carried Mike around, there's a fair chance that instead of simply setting him down, I’d stuff him into the vault-like St. Vincent de Paul donation receptacle, a metal crypt that could probably contain a fair number of nerds somewhat comfortably. (Unless they were pudgy nerds like myself. Skinny Mike, you coulda fit a dozen of him, easy.) 

Here's Friday late night, plus all of New Year's Eve Saturday, when I remember catching some of Die Fledermaus on WNEW 5 with my mom, and then later we watched Yellow Submarine. She fell asleep, so I got to stay up pretty late that night, and for whatever reason--a presaging of my later obsession with NYC-area television advertising, perhaps?--I distinctly remember seeing the Crazy Eddie boys' room doo-wop commercial. Weird, the things we remember...

Finally, some of the Quick Guide, with Saturday's movies and the week's sports and specials (which, strangely, omits any New Year's Eve-related shows).

That's it, that's the five-week NTVB run to bring 1977 to a close! But you can bet your plum pudding
that I'll be back with more nonsense soon--maybe even before next year!

One More Thing!
I just remembered I have this photo of me and Mike, taken a few years after the recess Pilobolus imitations (and on the grass of the back field). He hadn't eaten leaves, but I may have stuffed some down the back of his shirt. Yeah, yeah, I was a dick...