For the past two weeks or more, I’ve cycled through some favorite shows, mostly sitcoms, to help me sleep at night: Golden Girls and The Brady Bunch in heavy rotation, but eventually I turned to the sarcastic awkwardness of Space Ghost Coast to Coast, which led me to The Brak Show.
In a show with amazing lines like “Not my arms, that’s where my hands live!” and “Friendship is an ointment when you’ve been stung by 50 bees,” it’s hard not to adore the Brak character. His endearing nature being credited to voice actor Andy Merrill (who produced the show with writers Jim Fortier and Pete Smith in 2000). Originally, this catlike alien space pirate was a villain on the action-adventure series Space Ghost from 1966–1968. On this Adult Swim reboot, Brak is teenage, living in a suburban household with a mother that bares his semblance and a shortstop father who’s as suave as he is stupid. There was a brother named Sisto whose small role was walking across the room in random scenes to fart, but he was killed off in season 2.
Why am I bringing all of this up? I guess because I have empathized with Brak to the point of forging some emotional connection, and it makes sense for me to be drawn to a catlike character, but mostly it’s in the way he uses words and breaks out into song.
Brak loves to sing and write songs about the world around him. He cares about his friends and neighbors even though he doesn’t always connect with them on a mental plane. His simple pleasures are eating fish pockets and dancing in his bedroom, but unfortunately he is often dragged into the evil schemes of his best friend Zorak, a villainous locust (also of Space Ghost fame and head of the house band on Coast to Coast). While the result of those plots usually fail, and Zorak spitefully exits the scene, it always leads the narrative to an underlying theme (the life lesson trope that we come to expect on most family-centered TV shows) and Brak is nonetheless the odd one out. It’s true that he enters every situation with good intention, though it is shadowed by his own self-interest. He wants to make others happy, but in his selfish mentality he struggles with how to do that himself.
In the fifth episode of The Brak Show season one, titled “Bawk Ba Gawk,” Zorak convinces Brak they should steal their high school’s team mascot right before the big game. The mascot turns out to be an adorable jersey-wearing chicken called Mr. Bawk Ba Gawk, who they try to disguise in the meantime by fixing him with a feather top hat and raincoat. When Brak’s parents finally discover over dinner what they have done, Father presses Brak to tell him the truth.
“Do you want the truth or my side of the story?”
“I would like the truth please, son.”
“The truth is we stole Mr. Bawk Ba Gawk because we thought it would help the team and make us popular at school. But instead I sit here in my own shame, hoping against hope that the stench of guilt will soon fade like heat from a delicious waffle.”
He begins to weep and Zorak sensing repercussion promptly leaves. Once again, Brak is left in a situation spun out of control by his own earnest intention and its circumstance.
Lately in my life things have spun out of control; I’ve embarrassed myself behind good intentions. In the end, I never meant to hurt anyone. I have felt like Brak crying at the dinner table — an individual presented with enough family, friends, shelter and access to spacecrafts to feel blessed, but still kneeling to one’s own shortcomings. It’s also true that I am just projecting my personal woes on the basis of a dorky TV show.
While Brak expresses himself in spontaneous songs about his life, I use music and writing to entertain mine and keep the evil Zorak at bay. In this case, he is the catalyst for when things end badly. Maybe you can relate. The loading-screen of the next episode is a reminder of that impermanence; some days or episodes will differ in enjoyment, but good laughs are always possible, too. And laughter means a whole fucking lot.
