Scott Brown on Saving Sci-Fi From the Friday Night Death Slot
Illustration: Leo Espinosa
Ah, the early ’90s: that Eden. I was so innocent then, I barely knew which demographic I was. And I certainly didn’t know that just by doing what came naturally—staying in on Friday nights and watching The X-Files—I was changing the world. I had no inkling that we, my nerdy ilk and I, were actually saving dozens of unborn science fiction shows from the Sarlacc maw of the Friday Night Death Slot. Surely you’ve heard of the Death Slot. It’s a circle of programming hell traditionally reserved for the weak, the sick, the family- oriented—and the sci-fi-derived. It ate M.A.N.T.I.S., Sliders, and The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. Yes, the Slot especially likes the taste of dorkmeat.
No one ever put this in a memo, of course, but they didn’t have to. It’s a prima facie presumption among network executives: On Friday nights, only the chronically unbangable will be plopped before their sets. So we’ll give these lurks what they want: Genre dross we don’t believe in and won’t pay to promote, regardless. Let them eat aliens!
