I went to use the facilities and forgot to take the remote with me. When I returned, Linda had found the clicker and had put on a program called "The Talk." I could not believe my eyes. This was some kind of sci-fi horror interview show. There was a plastizoid Suzanne Somers. Her face, stretched smooth of wrinkles and other human features, had been frozen into a demented baby doll expression, forever smiling, eyes unblinking. She was sitting at a table trying to blend in with the human females who regularly host this show. It was an impossible task, like switching a Raggedy Anne doll with a human baby in a hospital maternity ward and expecting the parents not to notice. Anyway, these four women and the cyborg Suzanne greet their guest, a house-of-wax Barry Manilow. This was a very good likeness of the 1970's Barry Manilow. It moved and talked just like the real Barry. I refused to be fooled. Everyone on the program pretended this Madame Trousseau creation to be the actual Manilow.
The female hosts took turns welcoming Barry by giving him a kiss. They stood in line with the thigh master spokeswoman being last. I sat in a horror struck anticipation, waiting for the two animatrons to bash into each other. I knew that the faces would collide, shatter and fall from their heads, mixing the shards of the Barry/Suzanne features into an inseparable pile at their feet. The stone-faced Barry accepted kisses from Holly Robinson, then Sharon Osbourne and Julie Chen. When Leah Remini finished her kiss it was Suzanne's turn. The porcelain people clinked loudly like glasses being toasted as Suzanne's lips connected with Barry's cheek. I was amazed that both faces remained intact. It was like dropping an egg, watching it fall to the floor and then not break.
Barry sat at a piano and the women sat along side. They would have Barry play bits of their favorite songs and then ooh and ah. During the idol chatter between riffs, it came to light that Barry and Suzanne were old friends and go back over thirty years. I wondered if they had gone hand in hand from plastic surgeon to plastic surgeon. I can picture their conversations over the years: "Suzanne, your surgery has healed completely." "Your's too, Barry. Wanna do it again?" "Let's go!"
It took a while for me to get use to these new facial features of Barry and Suzanne. I finally was able to look at the TV without the urge to run screaming from the room. Yet, I do think that CBS should have put a parental warning before the show; "Rated NC-17. Please be advised. The following program contains graphic images that may be disturbing and not suitable for all ages."