And all your pals would be able to sing and dance like Broadway superstars! And devise sets and costumes that put Broadway to shame!
Ya know, it might be crazy enough to work! Spike, get some props together! Sadie, costumes! Just wait til Mr Beazey at the bank sees this! He’ll never take the farm now!
You can fire a gun inside and no one is deafened.
I was just happy when my mom could cash a check without them giving her trouble because her husband hadn’t signed it. :rolleyes:
I was in a bank one time when it got robbed. Wayyyyy less exciting than on TV.
Mothers and Fathers would always be immaculately dressed when at home and having dinner. Clothes were ironed. Men would stay dressed to read the newspaper and when having a potluck dinner with the neighbors, the men would be in a suit and women would be dressed in an expensive dress.
It’s OK to serve from attractive lead crystal decanters, but long-term storage can allow the lead to leach out into the liquid.
Which would cause society to collapse, as it did the Roman Empire (that, and the sodomy).
Driving anywhere would require catching air through an intersection, or the loss of hubcaps turning a corner. Real life car rides were always disappointing.
Actually, my parents were fairly old-school and conservative in manner and dress, so back in the 1970s and 1980s they would have dressed for a dinner party, even if it was a potluck. For my father, a Saturday full of errands meant wearing a sportcoat instead of a business suit and he’d wear the older wingtips while mowing the lawn.
I’m pretty sure my father was aghast if I tried to go to school in a shirt that wasn’t ironed and it took them a while to get comfortable with the idea of blue jeans.
I’ve got it! A Minstrel Show would be just the thing! 
I always hoped I’d find a cute baby in a basket on my doorstep with a note safety pinned to the blanket asking me to take care of it.
Based on TV and movies I thought physical violence, or at least the threat of it, was common and unremarkable. That pissing off a guy, especially if he was bigger than you, would usually result in a black eye, bloody nose, or knocked out teeth. That getting expelled from someplace you were no longer welcome involved being bodily thrown out the door. That pissing off a whole crowd of people would result in a lynch mob chasing you.
This, in spades. I thought I would move out and immediately and effortlessly have a fabulously decorated, always spotlessly clean apartment, with nice furniture and artwork, every modern kitchen appliance known to man or woman, a cute sports car, great clothes, LOTS of witty friends dropping by and FUN, FUN, FUN!
Bah! They lied!! :mad:
As far as I know, my father never owned a pair of blue jeans or sweat pants in his entire life. He wore his older, retired dress shoes to mow the lawn, too.
So. True story.
1982, '83ish. I forget which. Young Maggie (who was not yet Maggie), 7th grade, age 13ish, has been raised on a steady diet of Classic Literature, especially of the Victorian variety - Little Women, Black Beauty, etc.
Young Maggie is in Junior High. There is going to be a Dance after school. She knows it will be in the school gym, but is excited. She knows exactly how it will be - all the girls will be in fancy long dresses, the boys will be in suits if not tuxes, they will come over to the girls and bow and ask them to dance, and they will be waltzing and it will be in candle-light (after it gets dark), and very romantic. The school orchestra will be playing the music, of course. Young Maggie decides to wear her Best Dress, which is a Gunne Sax that she wore when flower girl at her uncle’s wedding last summer.
Did I mention that it was 1983ish, not 1883ish? And that, because bussing, Young Maggie attended a majority-minority school in the ghetto of Long Beach, CA? That she actually attended this school along with one Calvin Broadus, the future Snoop Dogg?
Imagine, if you will, her heartbreak when there was a DJ! Playing the same music that one heard on the radio! The boys did not bow before asking the girls to dance! And the dancing was NOT AT ALL WALTZING!!! Nobody else was dressed up! It was, all in all, HIGHLY DISAPPOINTING IN EVERY MANNER.
Young Maggie wound up leaving the Dance, almost in tears, about 1/2 hr into it, and catching the late-bus home. She is still more than a little sad that that, apparently, is not what most people think of as a Dance. 
I remember an old “Family Circus” cartoon where the kids are in a voting booth with Mommy, and one of them says, “That’s not the lever Daddy pushed.” I didn’t get that until a few years ago.
I second, third, etc. also thinking that my first apartment would be a fancy loft with high ceilings, a huge kitchen with pots hanging from an overhead rack, etc. I don’t even live in a place like that now, and I could afford to. 
Did she at least get to land the plane when the pilot took ill?
Right there with ya. We should start a business, holding Proper Dances for Overly Romantic Young Ladies.
I thought you could wrap a piece of cloth around a stick and get a long-burning torch, a la Gilligan’s Island. Once that failed, I tried spinning the stick in a burning plastic milk jug, then waved it around over my head. Plastic fell off and landed on my brother’s shoulder. For some reason, he forgave me.
Years later, and apparently unfazed by the failure of my previous Gilligan’s Island scheme, I was wiling away the hours on a beach in the Bahamas and decided to open a coconut with one brisk tap. Many brisk taps, and one enraged fling of the coconut against a tree that led to the coconut rebounding and smacking me on the head, led to the discovery that Gilligan had lied. Again.
TLDR: Gilligan’s Island. Not a documentary. WHO KNEW?
I learned from the Mary Tyler Moore Show that the sole reason that people go to work in offices is to be able to discuss all their personal problems in a humorous fashion. When you’re done you go home, although if the personal problems are really serious, the main office staff will all get together in a bar to continue discussing them. Actual work always gets done by anonymous voiceless minions in the background – proper employees never do a whit of work. The Boss always has a Crusty Exterior but is actually Lovable and has a Good Heart.
I learned from Father Knows Best that Fathers have infinite wisdom and Mothers should know their place and stay in the kitchen. And whatever the kids are doing, anywhere, any time, one or both parents will be eavesdropping and either smiling or frowning or looking puzzled, as appropriate. Life is hard for kids, privacy-wise. Also that a small-town insurance agent has such complete control over every aspect of the business that he is basically his own one-man show. There is nothing that Jim Anderson couldn’t and wouldn’t sell you.
I learned from many different shows that the correct procedure for entering a neighbor’s apartment is to fling open the door and barge in while announcing some hot personal news in a bubbly or excitable voice. TV neighbors always leave their doors unlocked for this purpose and never engage in passionate sex in their living rooms, or anywhere else, ever.
Also the real Cheers in Boston is a hell of a lot smaller and more crowded than the one on TV.
Also the quicksand thing.
I would somehow find myself alone in a freezing cold environment, having to survive all by myself with no help. I once took a class in winter camping based on this idea.