Seriously, dude, you have some major daddy-daughter issues.
Lately, while watching the Alias episodes I missed out on while working in college, all I keep thinking is that you've somehow managed to cover just about every single weird relationship snag between fathers and daughters you possibly could in this show. And it's not just Alias. I remember back when I watched Heroes the straaa-aaaa-aaange things you wrote for HRG to do in his dysfunctional protection of his daughter the cheerleader. Not only do you cover hatred, but you also manage to throw in a strong dose of protective idolatry, too.
Do you have a daughter? Did she turn out okay? And no, I've never watched Lost, but I suspect you've managed to write in some chosen-girl prophecy to that one, too, complete with a trigger-happy daddy ready to do anything to protect his baby.
Ooh, ooh, new drinking game: a shot for every person who gets shot on this show. Never mind. I like my liver too much.
Hugs & kisses,
B
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Dear Baron Julian Fellowes,
That's it. I'm done. Through. Over.
I know I said this at the end of last season, but for real, I mean it this time. To keep my letters spoiler-free, I'll refrain from saying any more, but after that headlining episode mid-season, I wondered if the only reason I stayed tuned might be because I had friends coming over to watch it every week.
Now, after what you've done tonight, I have to tell you the shaky ground we've been on all season has officially crumbled beneath our feet. There's no turning back. And if I weren't so tired, I could say this with fewer clichés. Not that you seem to mind them, yourself.
Nice job with the artsy landscape shots of the Highlands. I will say that. But not Rose nor Sybbie nor the miracle of Mary's 25-inch waistline at 8 months gestation will draw me in next January.
Hugs & kisses,
B
I know I said this at the end of last season, but for real, I mean it this time. To keep my letters spoiler-free, I'll refrain from saying any more, but after that headlining episode mid-season, I wondered if the only reason I stayed tuned might be because I had friends coming over to watch it every week.
Now, after what you've done tonight, I have to tell you the shaky ground we've been on all season has officially crumbled beneath our feet. There's no turning back. And if I weren't so tired, I could say this with fewer clichés. Not that you seem to mind them, yourself.
Nice job with the artsy landscape shots of the Highlands. I will say that. But not Rose nor Sybbie nor the miracle of Mary's 25-inch waistline at 8 months gestation will draw me in next January.
Hugs & kisses,
B
Monday, November 26, 2012
Dear Television,
Most of my life, I forget you're there. In the corner. All alone. If you were a plant, you'd have died eighteen times by now. But sometimes, like tonight, I come home from work after a long day after a long weekend, and you give me something mindless to do before I go to bed. Just want to say thanks, TV. Thanks for not being a plant, and thanks for being mindless.
Hugs & kisses,
B
Hugs & kisses,
B
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