You lure me in with your well written ideas turned TV gold, the sci-fi threads spun and woven tightly producing the black bag that is pulled over my head as I’m taken someplace from which I can’t return – and I’m not sure I want to leave anyway. You tease me with the promise of more to come, as Firefly is dancing across the pleasure center of my brain, and FOX heaves the axe – cutting loose the thread keeping me entangled in your story lines – and Firefly is extinguished. I am left sore, feeling betrayed and forsaken.

Then, Serenity arrives as Firefly reborn, bringing an idea of closure to the things left unsaid in Firefly. Soon, the light of the big screen is replaced by the smaller set of my television and DVD player as I replay the scenes in my own home, returned to where I once enjoyed Firefly.

But I know these scenes, all by heart. No longer do I feel virginal while watching, as I’ve grown fond of reciting the lines of the characters in unison. I know what they are going to say next, even before they say it. I long for the days where adventure lay ahead, and each week brought new life to the characters and a further unfolding of the story. Those were the days.

Now you tempt me with a new lure. You dangle a new series in my face, waiting for me to bite, knowing that it is nearly impossible for me to resist. Dollhouse is tempting and illicitly provocative. You know you had me at Eliza Dushku.

Still, I’m afraid. Dollhouse is a psychological sci-fi series, too smart for the common reality-TV-watching sheeple needed to draw the larger numbers, and FOX has cut you loose before. They rearranged and dictated the flow of Firefly, and you seem ready to forgive them for that. Am I to expect the same with Dollhouse? I need reassurance, yet still you tempt me.

But this time I will fight you. I will give you the best five minute struggle you have ever seen. I will rationalize and resist for all 600 seconds before finally giving in and admitting defeat. In a few minutes, Dollhouse will premier, and I will curse you as you draw me in again. Don’t you break my heart, or I will not be so forgiving next time.

Damn you, Joss Whedon. Damn you.

I’m very pleased with the progression of this season. Tonight’s episode was the best of the season, so far, in my opinion. The finale looks like it’s going to top everything, though.

I know I’m a little behind, but I didn’t have cable when the season finale aired, so I didn’t see it until yesterday.

Overall, the episode was fantastic!

I’m going to be pissed if it turns out to be Lafayette in Andy’s back seat, and I’m going to be super pissed if Lafayette is dead. He was my favorite character! Only he can serve a hamburger deluxe with AIDS!

Season two starts tonight, right? I’m so impatient.

Pushing Daisies

It has been confirmed by Brian Fuller via Kristin Dos Santos that death has become Pushing Daisies.

Via E!Online:

According to Fuller, the facts are these: “It’s very likely that Pushing Daisies will end after episode 13, which as you know, is a cliffhanger. But we are talking to DC Comics about doing comic books that will wrap up our storylines, and I already have a pitch for a [big-screen] movie ready to go.”

ABC intends to air the remaining Daisies episodes that have been shot, either in the current Wednesday at 8 p.m. timeslot or in another spot.

Damn you, ABC!

One of the most aggravating things someone like me can endure is the constant demise of the English language, brought about by the introduction and acceptance of modern slang by mainstream culture. Every time I turn on the TV or watch a movie, I’m reminded that writers pander to the masses, and the masses are slang-slinging idiots.

I can accept slang as part of every day life, in moderation, but somehow it became gauche to speak properly. Now slang has run rampant and become the predominant element of communication. Well, excuse me for my sentence structure and proper use of words actually found in a dictionary. Continue reading »

House is a pussy. If things don’t come together with him and Cuddy by the end of episode 9, I’m going to scream.