The landmark television program, "I Love Lucy," celebrates its 60th anniversary on Oct. 15, and I hope the digital age doesn't make a catastrophe of the show's legacy.
With the permission of actors' estates, Hollywood now has the ability to create new performances with digital images of long-dead stars (remember the Coors Lite commercial starring the late John Wayne?), but I would emit a Lucy Ricardo-like wail if someone attempted a remake of "I Love Lucy."
The 50s-era humor should remain preserved in amber, unsullied by today's culture and the present-day TV obsession with sex and the supernatural. What could we expect if someone actually dared produce a revival of "I Love Lucy?" Well ...
Guest-star First Lady Michelle Obama compromises and recommends a Vitameatavegamin food pyramid for public schools. ("Class, have you done your homework? Have you brought your signed permission slips? Do you feel tired, rundown, listless? Do you poop out at parties?")
Ratings records are shattered by an episode about the new addition to the Ricardo household. Pandemonium reigns as well-rehearsed Ricky, Fred, and Ethel stumble all over each other, demolishing the luggage when Lucy announces it's time to go to the hospital — for the baby's sex change.
Lucy invites Superman to Little Ricky's birthday party — as a TRAP, to send his illegal alien heinie back where it came from! ("And we'll line all the colleges with kryptonite in case your kids get any bright ideas!")
Fred and Ethel Mertz star in the spin-off series "$#*! My Husband Who's Old Enough To Be My Dad Says."
Recession-battered Ricky opens scenes by cheerfully announcing, "Lucy — I'm homeless!"
The show might switch to a reality format, such as "So You Think You Can Walk Down A Flight Of Stairs Wearing A Way Past Top-Heavy Showgirl Headdress."
Lucy gets locked in a meat freezer and is rescued only when Piers Morgan comes in to warm up.
Lucy puts too much yeast in her bread and gets pinned to the far wall by the loaf — prompting guest star Chris Christie to rush in and announce, "Executive order: Don't hold the mayo! DON'T hold the mayo!"
Lucy's putty nose catches fire while she's disguising herself around actor William Holden — and the insurance company rules that burning noses are a preexisting condition.
Zombie Lucy and Zombie Ethel can't keep up with the conveyor belt at the medical supply factory and resort to stuffing their mouths with the lab specimens. ("Brains! Brains!")
Forget grape stomping vats! Lucy does some rib-tickling head-stomping when rivals encroach upon kindly Mrs. Trumbull's meth lab.
Instead of dancing the tango with eggs hidden in her clothing, Lucy uses embryonic stem cells.
Instead of constantly trying to break into show business, Lucy asks Mel Gibson for tips on ENDING a show biz career. ("Tell me again about what we should do if any $&%$ Jews show up at the Tropicana Club.")
Ah, it's probably a moot point. Given the crazy demographics and trigger-happy programmers we have nowadays, the much ballyhooed series would be canceled right in the middle of "Baba" and "loo."
Still, despite all my misgivings, it WOULD be nice to hear Ricky's broken-English outburst of "Listeria in the cantaloupes? Somebody's got some 'splainin' to do!"
Danny welcomes reader e-mail responses at firstname.lastname@example.org, and visits to his Facebook fan page "Tyree's Tyrades." His weekly column is distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc., newspaper syndicate.