Speed-Dating With Bethany

As an aside, I considered reusing the blog title “Rando Calrissian” because I just really feel like it didn’t get enough affection and is one of the most underrated of my clever blog titles. Shoulda timed it to coincide with episode VII. The following are equally random tidbits*, in an attempt to reconnect with you, dear reader. The things I do for England.

(1) Yesterday, during our Montreal Sunday Funday – which is what I call our weekly return to the city for church and fellowship…because I’m not great with titles *all the time* – I took a bite of chicken salad and immediately had a full sensory memory of the last time I’d eaten chicken salad. Which was like twenty years ago. I am 33 and feel it is far too early for this sort of phenomenon.

(2) Relatedly, I awoke with the theme to L.A. Law in my head.

So. That’s…


(3) REDACTED IN 2019 but I left this gif because I love it:

(4) This season’s marathon of the original Planet of the Apes franchise has left me with three truths thus far – because full disclosure, Ezra and I haven’t watched #5 yet, but will today! I do not apologize for how much space will now be devoted to talking PotA.

I will never apologize.

(4.1) The 2nd movie – Beneath the Planet of the Apes, the one in which a strange subterranean enclave of telekinetic radioactive humans worships a bomb and which includes an unnecessarily long “church” scene complete with organ and hymnal – which I would have *EASILY* said was my lowest ranking in previous seasons, actually went up in rating, if not ranking. I AM AS SHOCKED AS YOU ARE.

(4.2) The 3rd movie – Escape from the Planet of the Apes, in which Zira and Cornelius come from the future to 1971 and are first the toast of the town and then, well, not – remains the absolute highlight of the franchise. Period. I realize this doesn’t sound like new news, but it was confirmed. Favorite.

(4.3) The 4th movie – Conquest for the Planet of the Apes, in which Caesar begins the revolution in 1991 – tanked in my rating. Just tanked. I think due to the overall comparative strength of the story, I’d given them too great a pass on the complete and utter lunacy. No more.

But, you, beloved…

Yes, you, MacDonald. You were just grand.

(5) They opened a huge Dollarama on Queen Mary as soon as I left Montreal. Thanks a bunch, friends.

(6) There is no Popeye’s in Northcountry New York. The implications of which worked me into a nearly destructive lather at one a.m. Still adjusting to being back in the States, but nowhere near to what I’m accustomed. We’ll get through this together.

*If perchance you followed the link to Rando… you would know that my Planet of the Apes ….fixation, shall we say, is inescapable.

Rama lamma lamma ka dinga da dinga dong

So, yes, we are talking about live musicals now! Because of course we are! Now that I’ve watched the three most recent, I feel supremely qualified to tell you exactly what to think about the format, and the strengths and weaknesses of each.

First things first, let’s g’head and disqualify Peter Pan immediatement. I didn’t watch very much of it, I believe I ended right after Captain Hook and his merry band of pirates did their big number, and while some may say that means I shouldn’t judge it…they would be wrong. For you see, DNF (did not finish) means you already failed me. And I say that as an author whose book will debut in September of this year. If it fails you, you can still review it. That’s how that works.

I recall the set being much as I remember from previous such events, stagey – which isn’t a bad thing. (Until you see Grease. But wait! We’re not there yet.) The big problem with Peter Pan? It was charmless. Allison Williams’ Peter was charmless. There’s…. really no coming back from that. So. Done. Simple.

Right! On to the good stuff.

Yes, I was hyped for this. So were we all. Packed with stars, debuting a new talent, and new music? YES, THANK YOU. So how did it rate?

A solid 4.5/5 stars. Better than solid. I’ve watched it half a dozen times already with my son. It can easily be bumped up to 5 stars when you consider how necessary it was and still is. BUT. Where it faltered:

(1) Technical Difficulties.

Of course live performances have their share of missteps, particularly with random occurrences of dead space or unintended pauses. It happened enough times to be obvious. Moments that come to mind: Addapearle’s entrance and exit – which really bummed me out because she was LIT. Like, ON. FIYAH. GLORY! The Poppy/Lion dance – which felt like perhaps the music took too long to come up so it was like, should someone be speaking right now? Do we all know our blocking? The Wiz’s grand gestures – which were meant to be synced with special effects.

(2) Length.

It went by so quickly!! Not to mention that there was no ending/Kansas resolution, which was surprising! We seriously could’ve used an additional half hour AT. LEAST. And the real desire for back-on-the-farm resolution is tied to something I will note in the “Where it WON” part of this discussion.

Which starts now.

(1) SANG.

I mean. Can we just. Did they not. Like, f’real. Starting with Aunt Em’s beautiful rendition of “The Feeling We Once Had.” Then Addapearle? Then Scarecrow? Then Tinman’s “What Would I Do?”

I can’t express it to you fully in words, but I feel like she gets it.

Nothing. Will touch. The music. I loved the new song, and I was so pleasantly surprised that having been raised on Michael Jackson’s “You Can’t Win,” Elijah Kelley rocked.my.socks.

*I will confess that I wasn’t a fan of Dorothy’s sharpness whenever they sang “Ease On Down The Road.”

(2) Casting!

Seriously, just amazing choices, including Queen Latifah as the Wiz. YES. Elijah Kelley’s Scarecrow was just. I was in love. Until Ne’yo’s Tinman. Which brings me to the whole WE ALL HAVE ALWAYS WANTED DOROTHY AND TINMAN TOGETHER, RIGHT?! That’s a thing, yes?! Because the fact that we don’t go back to the farm and have Dorothy realize they’re all there – which yes, is more Wizard of Oz than the Wiz but wasn’t the Wiz on stage more blended, story-wise?! – that is what really hurt the length and ending for me. Give me closure on my shipping please!

dorothyandtinmanforever ::ahem::

(3) Costuming!

You already be knowing. So yes. Cannot choose favorites, but I *will* say…. this is another reason we needed a longer production. Can you imagine something more akin to the Emerald City scene in The Wiz, the film?! I would have died.

*Special mention: Cirque du Soleil! The whimsy. Seriously, this was such a beautiful addition, and really bridged the film and stage versions beautifully.

Which brings us to the most recent production: Grease.

Here’s the thing. Production-wise? It was dang near perfect. For real. It was the reason you wanna be the last person to present. Because you maybe didn’t even think to do it until you saw someone else do it, and then you were like, pretty sure I can do that better, plus I’ve seen all the ways you misfired, so. Yeah. It was baller, production-wise. And strangely, I can’t give it above a 4. Here’s why:

(1) Casting

Super torn here. Loved the ladies, I think Sandra Dee was perfectly cast, was surprised and in love with Rizzo – her performance wasn’t amazing in light of her father’s passing, it was amazing – and truth be told, I really like Kenickie. Buuuut…

It seemed like everyone was performing the film. As in, they were mimicking the people who played the part before them, instead of playing the part? It worked for Rizzo and Kenickie…everyone else felt like a caricature, to be honest, even my beloved Keke.

And EXCUSE ME but Danny is 47 years old. Stop.

Stop it.

(2) I don’t like Grease!

Yeah, I’m having to just admit it, after having my entire senior year seem to revolve around my class’s love of Grease and all things Grease and wait, also Footloose – it’s just not me. I was always the least in love, though I liked it well enough but. THIS IS A HORRIBLE STORY. Like, for real. The guys are completely unacceptable, period, Danny is just gross full-stop. I can’t.

Rizzo’s song saves the day. Well, that and Beauty School Drop-out.

The transformation at the end is just.

Which, yes, isn’t a function of the live performance, it’s a problem with the story itself.

(3) Singing

This was a little hit or miss for me. Even Boys II Men was a little warbly, which was just sad and made me feel like the world I grewed up in is dead. BUT the opening number? By someone the kids know? That was great. As I said, Rizzo’s number was great, the ensemble stuff – though sometimes you couldn’t hear the lead – and Marty’s song was nice. I’d say Danny and Sandy’s singing were my least favorite, though it wasn’t painful or anything.

So…..amazing production. Wish it’d been a different show?

*Special mentions: Doody’s “Those Magic Changes”, Frenchy, and Blanche.

Is there anyway we could get a longer, Grease! style do-again (not do-over!) of The Wiz?!

Watch. And Pray.

It’s not like there’s a lack of things to talk about. I just haven’t been sure I want to or I want to yet.

Some of that is because I have learned so much about the power of social media through having found a thriving, articulate community of people to hear and by whom I feel my identity – or aspects of it – reflected. Most people would probably never think I needed help speaking up but then I think people mistake hearing your voice ever with hearing it all. There’s plenty the world has succeeded in making me self-conscious to assert. Plenty of times I didn’t want to go through the work of replying to something unacceptable because I knew that the attention would be given to my response (with words like “here we go again”) and not to whatever caused MY “here we go again” moment – here someone goes undermining my beauty, worth, intellect, love, faith and identity as a Black woman.

And I’ve found so much – so. much. – relief in scrolling through my timeline in those times and “hearing” these people speak. Because the truth is, I have a right to not engage every time. Often, I think of Toni Morrison’s genius commentary on the work of racism:

“The function, the very serious function of racism is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language and you spend twenty years proving that you do. Somebody says your head isn’t shaped properly so you have scientists working on the fact that it is. Somebody says you have no art, so you dredge that up. Somebody says you have no kingdoms, so you dredge that up. None of this is necessary. There will always be one more thing.”

Sometimes I will exercise my right to be heard, to respond, etc. Sometimes I’m not having it. Just like the woman who tweeted that a male scientist at her convention commented that her attire was not appropriate (let’s not even) – and then so many women responded by affirming that her outfit WAS appropriate. This is our socialized response, no? Not “You do not have the authority to make such a claim/approach me in the first place” but defending the outfit in question. (And I know, for myself, part of the reason for that type of response is also born out of a desire to let the other party know that I know s/he’s wrong. Hashtag: Just so you know. So it’s not like I don’t get it.)

But sometimes, as when a deserved artist wins a National Book Award for the first time, I (a) know that one of these people I admire will speak and I will read it and be able to breathe deep because someone gets it and someone spoke and that means I have the validation everyone who takes it for granted wonders why I need and I (b) am unsure how best to support the artist. Does she want another thinkpiece to come up when her name and win are googled? Does it bother her at all? (Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe they’re best friends and while she wishes he hadn’t spoken that way in mixed and streaming company, she knows his heart. Maybe he thought he was making social commentary on the ridiculousness of antiquated stereotypes – yeah, that one’s a long shot but remember when I said we’re socialized to give anyone but us the benefit of the doubt?)

Then there’s times when a new tv show comes on – particularly one with a problematic or at least confusing title – and it is everything you hoped it would be and you feel for the first time in a long time like the audience. You feel this way because instead of being about the gaze, it’s actually about things as we see and experience them. And it doesn’t have to be perfect just because it’s one of few, and did I mention it’s that pressure to be the perfect representation for a varied and diverse people group that demonstrates the problem with white-washed broadcasting.

Then sometimes kids give interviews and ho-my-word, I don’t even think I can do this one. Because they’re kids. And despite the fact that they are basically the embodiment of what I can only assume would have been one of Dr. Marvin Monroe’s social experiments (what happens when you are tragically wealthy, do not engage in agencies of socialization such as corporate schooling, are “trusted” by your parents enough to make and immortalize your own life choices as a pre-teen who will have one of two options going forward: a really painful period of realization during which you are haunted by your nonstop public declarations and images – or – refusal to undergo said very-public process and therefore stay the course and just…just be horrible) – it’s not fair to anyone to have such an exhaustive record of these years.

Or what about when part one of a two part adaptation of a third book comes out and people are so upset over that concept – which apparently and seemingly has been done unnecessarily before but this isn’t that time and it isn’t those books and it was so good and I’m not sorry that we might actually lose friendships over this discussion because you will NOT badmouth MOCKINGJAY PART 1.


Rando Calrissian

Like many writers treating this like a j-o-b, I have eleventy things out and about right about now. Novels, novellas, short stories. Only one of which I’m stereotypically worried-bananas-obsessed over because DID THEY GET IT, did they forget they said I could do that, Dear Savior please halp. Like, for real, I don’t even know what to do. And I can’t just leave it be and go submit elsewhere because you’re the one, the one I’ve been looking for, what’s your name?!

Eric WTF


And then anyway.

I just really wanna see Maleficent again. As much as I had ZERO intention of seeing it in 3-D and resultantly paying a grillion bucks to do so because it was the only showing that didn’t make me late to get to my little boy’s award ceremony (the things we do for kids, eh?) – I loved it.

Speaking of movies (of which this summer has a ton I cannot wait to see):

I mean.

I remember falling in love with the trailer for the Rise of the PotA movie – being so scared that it’d hurt me just like the trailer for Terminator: Salvation did. But it didn’t. In the words of Homer Simpson, it did rocketh my world. So much so that I endured the original five Planet of the Apes. (Yes, that’s three links in as many sentences.) And of course, I’m about to do it all over again. Because YAS.

Who’s comin’ with me?



Talkin’ It Up!

Talkin’ bout issues. Talkin’ bout – crazy cool medallions.

So two things on which I wanna remark and let’s just make that three because the first – and the foremost – is that I have had to edit this singular sentence four times already and that in itself should have convinced me to leave serious talking points for the post-congested-head Bethany, but EQUALITY NOW. I deserve just as much stage time as any levelheaded person whose sinuses aren’t pooling and then draining and making me think things are good things to say but then I lose my train of thought.

Me too, Corrina.

Thing the 1st: You know how to ruin what is possibly the current pinnacle of someone’s career? Don’t allow them entry until your lack of diversity has become a headline. That way whomever is chosen will be the New Black Cast Member for Saturday Night Live, as opposed to a deserved comedienne. That way her basking moment will be significantly dampened by the claims of unfairness (“She only got the job because she’s Black!”) and overzealous criticisms (“She’s not even funny! Lemme pool all of the unfunniest things she’s ever done so I can prove to you how unfunny she is!”) that make life on Earth decidedly unfunny and occasionally disgusting.

Sasheer Zamata: 1

It’s A Hard Knock Life For People of Color: A Grillion

Luckily, she’s been Black for a while now so she’s primed for this. Congratulations, Ms. Zamata!

And you know what, that’s it. I’d rather not bury the story by talking about anything else. And I love you, The Choir, but the only thing that should make us feel any better about this rampant ridiculousness is an actual self-reflection and conversion of someone who didn’t get this before now. I WANNA BELIEVE PEOPLE CAN CHANGE.

Somebody’s Watchin’ Meee

Not really. This is actually about me watching YOU, television and movies. O_O Yeah.

So I mentioned it a while ago but I watched what I wanna call Will Smith’s After Earth but I won’t because he shouldn’t have to shoulder that blame just because he’s credited with “story”. Coulda boiled down to, “so I wanna make a movie with my son where we’re trapped on a post-evac Earth, write something like that.” How was he to know he’d get the dumbest, most shallowly conceived film ever? (If you said, because he hooked up with M.Night, …you’re not wrong.)

The problem isn’t that the movie didn’t stand up to a barrage of questions (there are many GREAT movies/movie experiences – and that’s me making a separate category so I can continue to enjoy something I know wasn’t “great” – that wouldn’t); the problem is that the movie doesn’t stand up to any question. If I’d intended to do more than a cursory lambast of this garbage, I’d have titled this, “After Earth: A Scathing Review In Questions” and the whole thing would’ve been a list of – you guessed it – questions. Questions such as: why, if these monsters are engineered specifically to kill humans, were they engineered without sight?! Because the alien race who created them – who, by the by, we never meet and that just feels lazy as all hell – wanted it not to work *too* well?!

Second question:Why is Earth dedicated to killing a species that’s been gone so long I find it hard to believe all these things (including the air) has somehow turned against us. And only us. Vibrant, verdant and lush. That’s…pretty much how I’d describe Earth in this film. And somehow we can’t survive there though literally everything has. …K. And then, sort of jumping from that point: if there are these few hot spots to which you must be by a certain time every night – wouldn’t they be just teeming with other animals? Right? What do the rest of the planet’s inhabitants do at night? Freeze like that giant eagle-mama did? Really? Shuddup.

Question the third: Why would you make the premise of the film something so ridiculously untrue that we cannot get on board with it – and no reasonable person would expect us to?! Here’s the (hopefully infamous) line:



Fear is what you experience when you’re standing directly in front of a monster designed to kill you. Fear is not by definition relegated to the future and WHERE did you come up with that?! Shall we discuss the parts of the brain and circulatory system that are directed impacted by fear? And how it can save your life? WHO DECIDED THIS SPEECH WAS READY FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION?! Who? Who was like, YES. Make the whole movie revolve around this concept!

I can’t. I can’t even go on. I can’t talk about the scene where the kid magically taps into the riches of that little wisdom-gem. I can’t.

Because the worst part? Is the movie has heart. The characters have chemistry – go figure! – the performances are good, maybe great (if you ignore the ridiculous context of Little Kravitz and why she’s getting so much work). It’s the kind of bad movie I would watch again.

Which brings me to Elysium.

Yeeeeah. I was waiting for this one. And. Uh.


No heart. I don’t even know what else to say. I see where they meant to have heart? In the nun flashbacks with a young Matt Damon? But no. He’s a victim of the world he lives in and the world he lives in is not well-developed enough for that to work. Like, seriously, the concept is awwwwwesome. Rich people abandon a crumbling society of Earth to live in their own habitat above. YES. Except wait, how does industry work? How do they maintain this place and this level of wealth if only one guy has a job apparently and his factory is on Earth necessitating travel between the two which seems unnecessarily risky… So I get that Elysium is pretty (I mean…it looks freakin’ AWESOME…so in love with the aesthetic, f’real. The whole movie.looks.amazing.) but I don’t get how it works! Did they all just pool their money together and it’s like accruing interest somewhere or something?! And also, how about the economy back on Earth? These people don’t look like they’re missing meals, they look like they’re missing health insurance.

And that’s pretty much what it ends up being, right? A Health Insurance movie. I mean, it’s not quite John Q… but then I’ve seen John Q a dozen times and I bought the movie so. Heart, people. I totally went in. They got me. Elysium seems to depend on my being a citizen of Earth to make me side emotionally with the people trying desperately to get to Elysium (all seemingly for the purpose of getting healed by machines that could easily be sent to Earth – thereby wiping out the final industry in which people are gainfully employed, the crappy LA hospitals – because there’s no way they could LIVE there, they’re obviously from Earth AND they have no where to live or hide!). But it doesn’t work. They made their lives and visible circumstances horrible enough that unless I was trapped in a similar way, I can’t relate. So. I’m not in the movie. At any point. Even when they throw in the long lost best friend – wait, why had they lost touch for like their entire lives and she has a kid he didn’t know existed and said kid is sick, because bien sur, and whatever. Whatever. The poor people have enough tech and savoir-faire to build shuttles and get up to Elysium but NOT enough know-how – despite clearly having medical professionals still living there – to create or hack into the schematics for the healing machine they’re literally getting shot out of the sky to reach. K.

Jodie Foster’s French because of course Elysium is pompous and Earth is Mexico? Okay. That wasn’t what kept the movie from making an impact. Now I’m just listing things that could’ve worked if something else worked, so let’s call it. ::lowers Elysium’s eyelids and lets it rest in peace::

So I mean, the only thing that matters is science fiction. I’m not gonna talk about Ender’s Game because it’s too close to me and I don’t wanna hear who was disappointed. Don’t wanna hear it. Keep it to yourselves.

Hey, did you think TV was missing a good noir-y biopunk show? So did I. And now we’ve got Almost Human. Two episodes in and I am IN. Second episode was even better. Keep it up, people. And thank you for bringing Michael Ealy back to a cop show after unjustly canceling his hilarious USA show, Common Law. Do better by him, guys.

Next time. We’ll talk about Oblivion. And only Oblivion. Because GAH. Everything.

When I Come Around

Ezra was eating a banana. Whilst peeling it, he observed, “Peeling a banana is like saving the banana. It’s like something eated it and I’m saving it from the guy who ate it.” ~ Feb 1st, 2011

That was my peace offering. An Ezra-ism from two years ago. Poor little language-confused seven year old that he was. Adorabeezle.

So it feels like I owe you guys some big announcement. Or diatribe or rant, at least. And I have a few in mind – I watched After Earth and the super hainty attempt at covering up its M.Night connection was misplaced effort. The movie told on itself, IMMEDIATEMENT – but those are for another day. Just like, possibly, my ideas on Sleepy Hollow, Nicole Beharie’s apparent distrust of hair that originates in her own follicles (I’m increasingly judgey about this, given the alternatives she chooses/allows to be chosen), and the Ichabod Holmes attempt. Or the life being sucked from the Mindy Project and the way they almost lost me with that ridonkulously offensive “Christian pastor” boyfriend. I can’t even.

Come to think of, what have I been *doing*, people?? We need to talk, f’real, f’real.

For now, I leave you with a bit of wisdom from last night’s seriously serious dreams: You cannot quit at parenting; you can only fail.


Huh. I wonder if last night’s Nashville had anything to do with my dream’s subject matter.

Good questions, all.

You Take The Good, You Take The Bad

This is the true story (TRUE STORY!) of eleven strangers picked to be on a Tyler Perry soap opera, half of whom have clearly acted before, half of whom have presumably damaged their frontal lobes in the recent past. And dear hammer of Thor, I can’t even keep this up because what was THAT. Like, for real. It’s not like I’m saying soap operas are quality or anything but tritest of the trite Savannah south storylines? For true? I mean, honey drizzled corn muffins, friends! What! Was! That!

And as the somewhat lean stories were playing out, did I see an advert for a new TP *comedy* for the network as well? Should we have Oprah checked out? HALP HER! ::fanning self:: Mercy.

But that’s not what we’re here for. I have some linguistic bequeathings, I’d like to perform. Because in recently looking up untranslatable words, I was struck by how amazing many of these are! And here I thought German was my favorite language for untranslatable words! French has been holding *out* on me!

To my dear twin, Jen. I giveth: L’esprit d’escalier. Yes, the spirit of the staircase, which means: the feeling you get when you leave a conversation and think of all the things you should’ve said. RITE?!!? JNFR. This.

To the late Zora Neale Hurston, who gave us the greatest first line in the history of literature: Qarrtsiluni. From…some language, meaning: sitting together in the darkness, waiting for something to burst. I feel this is what she was getting at in that famous God-watching storm.

And to myself – YES, I am bequeathing to myself! Twice! – I give validation. Because I knew I wasn’t crazy! Iknewit! I give myself, L’appel du vide.

Wait for it.

The urge some people get to jump from high places when they encounter them, for example when close to the edge of cliffs.


I can’t even. All this time, I’ve been calling it Physical Tourette syndrome – like an ANIMAL! (An animal, Neal!) Of course the answer was always in french! OF COURSE!

And because they understand the meaning of the phrase, justify my love! – my beloved leave us with one more. (FINE, I’ll share my second self-bequeathment.) As true today as when it was written. Rire dans sa barbe. To laugh in your beard, or: to laugh to oneself quietly while thinking about something that happened in the past. (Who doesn’t do this like thrice a day? Really?)

This Is More For Me Than You

Disclaimer: This is all about a TV show.

There was a time before Scandal. Before the glorification of a bumbling, man-child. Before brain trauma that conveniently resolved over the course of an episode. A time when Tony Goldwyn was still Tony Goldwyn, the actor. The talent. A time before my view of him was stained. And during that time, he was a part of Law and Order: Criminal Intent.

Back story: in college, as I was studying such charming topics as “Deviance in the Family” and “Social Inequality”, I fell hard for a little ditty called Special Victims Unit. I mean, come on. It was pretty awesome. That and they insisted on working in story-lines reminiscent of some pretty famous cases. I remember reading a book by Paul Britton (a famed forensic psychologist) and then seeing the episode about the couple who had a bunch of kids, whose nannies might disappear and who buried their victims in and around the house. So basically the show was quite parallel to what I was doing in my own life. I could even overlook Detective Olivia Obvious, I mean Benson’s constant stating of the – you guessed it – obvious. But then I started to get weary. I was a bit tired of the hamfisted handling of religious figures (ie, if there’s a Christian – and don’t let it be a pastor – we know from the get that this is the perp), the beating us over the head with preachiness – where at one time they used having an ensemble cast to have heated exchanges wherein everyone had and was unapologetic in their own beliefs and opinions, it seemed increasingly, we were just being told what to believe in a really trite back-and-forth in which Benson and Stabler totally agreed and actually wondered aloud how anyone could not believe. So that got old, fast. Aside from which, it’s just corny and lazy writing.

So I stopped watching. (GASP.) I’d watched an episode of Criminal Intent and just did not get Vincent D’Onofrio’s Robert Goren. (I am shaking my head at myself right now, wondering how that’s possible.) But I decided to go back to it and…well, the rest is history. This character. He was a tortured Sherlock with obvious quirks that eventually became much more than that, but the way his world was weaved into it…so good. And then there was the end of season 6. When everything started falling down. In a good way…for the viewer. In a heartbreaking way for Goren. Let me just say, his family members are played by Tony Goldwyn and Rita Moreno. I mean.

goren familyI can’t.

So good.

And then season 7?? And MORE family stuff. And the undercover stuff. And the season finale that broke.me.forreal. ::falls across chaise:: All the best Goren storylines falling one on top of the other, creating the most amazing performances – not that one need rank D’Onofrio’s genius against D’Onofrio’s genius. It’s just, how much could this man take! GAH. So good.

So why am I blogging about this?! Because, like five years later, I’ve still thought about the satisfaction of that episode and some from the previous season so much that I’ve taken to reading episode guides and finally, last night, watching two from season six…in preparation to rewatch the season 7 finale. Again. Because I must. Because it was just so good. I can’t think of another series where a consistent viewer was so rewarded. I mean, I assume it wasn’t as powerful for people who hadn’t seen the years long build-up (AND YES I’M INCLUDING THE CRIMINAL INTENT PC GAME!).

Tony. You…you should know better. You were once a Goren. Why have your forsaken your rich heritage?! You were the bad guy I desperately wanted Demi Moore to learn to love in Ghost! (She didn’t even try!) What has Shonda Rhimes *done* to you? ::weeping, gnashing of teeth::

Siiigh. So anyway.

Write like that. So that five years later, I can’t.stop.feeling it.

Electric Love

Nick Miller

Sorta says it all, ay? #TheyGetMe #InA90sKindaWorldImGladIGotMyGirls

And since you guys brought up TV shows and the fact that I watch a crap-ton of them when I’m not in a season of reading (although I sort of consider film, tv and books reading) or marathon-writing: Being Human UK how COULD you and Being Human US why DO you. Still exist. ::ahem::

And also, bring back Apartment 23 (or just James Van… wait, I have to look up how to write his name correctly) and Alphas – which is misleading because Alphas isn’t cancelled (RIGHT?!) but speaking of cancellations, please don’t quit Deception. Even though you probably should because honestly, how much more could there be. But don’t. Do a girl a solid.

And now they’re just toying with us on the whole Danny-Mindy thing. TOYING WITH US.

I’ll accept that Smash can feel redundant but unless or until you get me a show about marching band, I’ll keep it. And Nashville.

Community feels like it’s quaky but I was pretty happy with Partner and Hoolihan. 🙂

Shows I will not talk about: The Following, Scandal.

Favorite show: Bob’s Burgers. Like, seriously. Unless you want me to jump headlong into a day’s worth of quotes, we should leave it alone. It’s as bad as my love of the sixth and seventh season of The Simpsons. And the Mountain of Madness episode.

And then in my SPARE time. I slap kitties.

That’s what I do whenever anyone’s wearing a hat. Now.