Unless Ted Lasso is called in to arbitrate, the SAG-AFTRA strike could last for a long time. That's put the TV industry in a semi-frozen state, which means no fresh episodes of "Chicago Fire" for the foreseeable future.
Don't panic. Open-minded viewers can take this opportunity to take a trip down memory lane. During the pandemic, when we faced a similar dilemma, I got acquainted with classics like "Room 222" and "The Waltons."
Last week, I binged on "Murder, She Wrote."
I avoided the CBS drama during its initial 1984-96 run. At the time it sounded about as inviting as Scrabble Night at a nursing home, especially when compared with hipper offerings like "Miami Vice" and "Moonlighting."
Based on the seven episodes I watched on Freevee (you can also find it on Peacock and Hallmark Movies & Mysteries), I didn't miss much.
The setup is ridiculous. Jessica Fletcher (Angela Lansbury) is a novelist in small town Maine who keeps stumbling into crime scenes. The murder rate in Cabot Cove is so high, you'd assume the mayor was Al Capone.
The cases aren't nearly as juicy as the ones on "Columbo" or even newer fare like "Poker Face" and "Knives Out."
So why bother?