The show Full House has experienced quite a renaissance lately, and it’s on every time I turn on the TV. That’s possibly because I only turn on the TV when I want to watch Full House, but I know of a lot of people besides me who secretly watch it. They’ll quickly turn the channel away from a vintage episode when they see me come into the room, as if they were just flipping through the stations, but it’s like, “Nice try, dad.”
One appealing thing about Full House is that at the end of act III they always have a great heart-to-heart moment, which even when I first watched the show at age 5 I found a tad saccharine and melodramatic. But the main reason the show works so well is due to how pathetic the cast is. Uncle Jesse lives in his brother-in-law’s house, despite the fact that he is over thirty, is married, and has two children; Uncle Joey has no familial relations to the Tanners but nonetheless lives in the basement because he has no real job except being the shittiest comedian that ever lived; DJ’s only friend is Kimmy, who constantly stabs her in the back and who everybody else hates; Stephanie wears dorky glasses and doesn’t have any friends period; and Michelle grows up to be anorexic. The only Tanner with any merit is Danny’s wife, who had the foresight to die before her children grew up to be such miserable wretches.