To many of you, this week is merely seen as 8th week ““ a
week in which nothing of particular importance happens. Some may
have papers to BS and others midterms to not understand. But
that’s about it. If anything, you’re just concerned
with wrapping this quarter up with a nice tidy bow so you can
simply go home. Or graduate. And then go home.
Not so for me.
This week I have been one of the walking miserable, not because
of my lack of slumber but because watching TV has been like
attending a stream of never-ending funerals.
Who died? I’m so delighted you asked. I didn’t think
many people were that concerned with my loser well-being. But now
you’ve made me feel special, so I’ll share with you the
death roll call.
Mulder and Scully finally figured out the truth of “The
X-Files,” which subsequently ended the search. And go figure
““ after nearly a decade of snooping through spaceships and
cornfields, they end up finding it comfortably in each
other’s arms.
Too bad the same can’t be said for Ms. Ally
“I’ll-be-single-and-miserably-lonely-for-all-eternity”
McBeal. Amidst the farewell tears of her co-workers at Cage, Fish
& McBeal, Ally limbers off into the Boston night alone.
Interestingly, this is exactly how her elfin self mini-skirted into
the scene five years before. She was alone ““ all alone. Sure,
she now has a daughter and was made a partner in the firm, but she
never did reach what seemed to be her ultimate goal: finding
someone that would love her that she could actually keep. How
depressing.
Like “Ally McBeal,” “Felicity,”
“Roswell” and “Dark Angel” are also victims
of the cancellation axe. “Politically Incorrect” and
“Spin City” have scheduled burials too. And you might
as well throw “Friends” into the pile. After next
season (the show’s 10th, mind you), there is going to be no
one quirky and fun to hang out with on Thursday nights at Central
Perk.
“There’s no point in owning a TV next year,”
my roommate and fellow insomniac, Eva, exasperatingly exclaimed the
other night. True true.
The surviving shows might as well be cashing in their retirement
checks and spending it like they’re high on Viagra because
with every episode they get one step closer to being worm food.
“The Practice,” “ER” and “NYPD
Blue,” although doing well ratings-wise, are going to end up
in gimmicks hell if they aren’t handled with tender loving
care due to their age and over-casting. Exactly how many people at
Donnell, Young, Dole & Frutt haven’t been attacked or
arrested yet? And can Dr. Carter with his cast of minor players
keep the ER as intriguing and captivating as Dr. Greene and Dr.
Ross did?
But next season is not a total loss to the dead or dying. There
is the autopsy-happy detective drama “C.S.I.” And those
getting tired of the flickering Las Vegas cityscape can simply
shake their bon-bons over to its spin-off “C.S.I.:
Miami.” “Smallville,” “24,”
“Alias” and “The Guardian” each had
respectable freshman years that brought awards and critical praise
along with their decent ratings.
Still, with reality shows like “The Bachelor” being
allowed to return for a second helping, who knows how much trust
should be put into the studios for choosing next year’s
replacements? And where is “Survivor” going to end up
next? On the Marshall Islands with the contestants vying for the
last remaining can of Spam? We don’t really need any more of
these.
Perhaps this is all for the better. With less primetime
programming to entice the eyes and meddle the mind, maybe
it’s time to get off the crusty couch and read a book for a
change or, better yet, get out and frolic in the three-dimensional
world.
Nah.
All that requires way too much effort. I think I’ll simply
invest in cable.