|Current mood:|| depressed|
|Current music:||Christopher Jordan, WSAR Fall River, MA. April, 1974|
Read My Lips: DON'T READ MY LIPS!!!!
HBO doesn't usually have much to brag about when it comes to series, in fact, they are kind of like the Cubs of television networks in that they have a huge loyal fan-base despite not being able to win a game and that metaphor would never break down if it weren't that on the rare occasions when they do a hit a home-run and win a game, they do it in a fashion that'll make you swear you're watching the Yankees, which in TV terms is ShowTime, a network that has won so many championships that a lot of people think it sold its' soul to the Devil (Which, according to my Christian friends on the Supreme Court, is possible because corporations are people and therefor have a soul just like everyone else), probably not to the degree that Procter & Gamble did but enough to be #1 or very nearly #1 once in a while.
If you doubt any of this, I submit for your for your approval this list: Sex And The City, Carnivàle, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Boardwalk Empire, Veep and Girls. There are probably a couple of others, too, that I can't recall right off the top of my head...And you should be really impressed with what I can recall because I'm going to be 49 in about nine months and while people do occasionally live this long these days, our memories never do... but they are uneeded to prove that HBO does, once in a while, produce a series that approaches the rarefied heights of Californication.
But we didn't come here today to praise Hank Moody. We didn't even come here to say that if Sookie would just get a lot more nude a lot more often, True Blood would rank as another of HBO's rare hits. We did come here to talk about Sookie's nearly perfect body and how we should see it more often but we can't even do that. Because Karl Rove is throwing a fit about how that would enrage my conservative base.
So why did I hire Karl to be my Chief Blog Strategist? Well, as Paul Shaffer likes to put it, "Cat needed a gig and we had an extra chair." Yes, it's charity. Welfare, if you will. Because they are really the same thing and labels don't matter anyway because whatever you call it, this is the good deed that's going to cinch my A-List invitation to Heaven.
And if you were my age, you would realize just how important that is. You know, if I had it to do over, I would have hired Paul instead of Karl, even though he couldn't strategize a blog out of a wet paper bag because at least the band would rock and we could talk about Sookie until the cows come home. But what's done is done, our hands are tied, we don't have a safe-word and the end is near, so let's just make the best of it.
So let's talk about Selina Meyer...Call her Elaine if you're terminally nostalgic and that's fine because Selina is every bit as good and funny as Elaine...and Hannah Horvath. And not just because I'm seriously considering adding them to my staff of Life Coaches. Oh, they'll never replace Hank Moody and Dagwood Bumstead as my top Life Coaches but sometimes Hank and Dag have an off day and it never hurts to have a deep bench.
But mostly we should talk about Adam Driver, Hannah's ex? current? sometimes? boyfriend. Because he's the character that has all the scholars, historians and critics scratching their heads over how such a dull, flat, boring, frequently annoying and often poorly written part can be so deeply engrossing. In a surface sort of way.
Sure, everyone gives him points for sleeping with Hannah but that doesn't go very far when you consider that the gay guy from college and the two bit pharmacist in Michigan did the same thing so there must be something else. Mustn't there? What I'm not saying here is that there are more important things than sex, because I'm not even that old, I hope, but still, that's where the evidence seems to be leading us.
That, unlikely and unbelievable as it sounds, there is a more important aspect to Hannah than her body. And that whatever that is, Adam has somehow taken possession of it. And now, once you suspend your disbelief to the extent that you can accept that something may matter just as much or maybe even more than sex, the question is: How did he do it?
And, with all due respect to the idiots and morons who still haven't figured it out yet, I say the answer is simple: Adam is Maynard G. Krebs, and what girl, least of all Hannah, could resist falling in love with Maynard? And what guy wouldn't want to hang out with him?
Now, I'm not proposing that Hannah is really Dobie Gillus or that Jessa is the Skipper and Shoshanna is Mary Ann, though you could make those arguments...you'd likely get yourself involuntarily committed but that's just the price of living in a totalitarian police state and is no reflection on you. All I'm saying is that Adam is Maynard and Maynard is Adam and that if you still don't believe in reincarnation, you just aren't paying attention.
You can also say that Adam is clearly taller than Maynard but what does that prove? They are still identical in every other way and you still lose. Fortunately, you're so used to that that you shouldn't even need therapy. Drugs, maybe, but not therapy, which is good because you won't have to worry about the Obama Death Panels that are trying to kill you but could you, just once, stop thinking about yourself?
And get back to thinking about Maynard, AKA Adam, and Hannah and how their writers are going to bring them even more back together and how Elaine, AKA Selina, is going to handle her pregnancy. It's almost enough to make you completely forget that it's going to be decades before we get new episodes of Californication, Boardwalk Empire and Shameless and if you're stuck on Earth for any amount of time at all, that's about the best you can ever hope for.