I was in high school the year of the incident at Three Mile Island. Though it was all over the news at the time, it seemed a long ways off. Over a thousand miles, in fact. However, at the end of that first day, I one of my friends came up to me to ask a question that has remained with me until this day. “Is it true that we’re all going to die?” I quickly assured her that we were going to be just fine, but I was absolutely flabbergasted to think that she had come to school and gone through an entire day thinking that she—along with everyone else—was about to die as a result of this incident.
Now that I have the latest short story off to the editors (and the USPS tracking assures me that it left my hands yesterday morning in Texas and by 10 a.m. this morning it was in the destination city out for delivery), I’m working on a couple of small projects before I tackle the next story. I have three in mind. One is quite long, and may be a major revamp of an old trunk piece. I call it a trunk piece, but in truth it never came out of the trunk. Just couldn’t ever figure out what to do with it, but now it might be time to see if it can be reshaped.
Were we expecting House to descend into a quagmire of self-loathing and self abuse after his breakup with Cuddy? If so, that’s not quite what we got. Sure, he’s clearly knocked off his axis and in something approaching denial, but he sure seemed to be having fun doing it. As hedonistic as Larry Underwood in his party days, with a bowl of cash instead of a bowl of drugs. For me, the funniest part was when he started shooting at his hotel room door with a bow and arrow. I’m not sure if this was a deliberate reference back to Conan Doyle (House = Home = Holmes), but that’s how I took it, since Holmes used to shoot up the walls in his rooms on Baker Street. I kept expecting it all to turn out to be a dream again, though, especially when he played the special effects gag, and perhaps nudged in that direction by the prostitute with the hurdy gurdy. Heavy-handed thematic statement of the week came from the patient of the week, who, when told that he may no longer ride in the rodeo, blissfully says, “I can always find something else to love.” And then House jumps into the pool from his balcony, encouraging a bunch of other revelers to join him. “What do you do when you win?” he yells? “Party,” they respond in unison. Which leads to…today’s subject line. And shame on Wilson for not jumping in, too.
I’m starting to like La Roche on The Mentalist more and more. First we see him at home, with his yellow shirt and collection of Hummels, and now he messes with Lisbon just because he can. With Hightower on the lam, he’s appointed head of CBI and his first act is to replace Lisbon with Cho as team leader. Lisbon, after a few small adjustments, actually seems quite pleased to be relieved of some of her responsibilities, most notably having to reign in Patrick. Cho is, of course, a stalwart leader. After making overtures to Lisbon to maintain the status quo, he takes his job seriously. He gets in one barb when she offers him her office: I want no walls between me and my team. The case is pretty convoluted, and the resolution relies on one of Patrick’s patented put-up jobs. For someone who has been keeping a serious drug problem a secret for as long as the perp did, she sure fell apart fast. I liked Patrick’s line: She does the detecting and I do the insulting. Lisbon corrects him: Consulting. “That too,” he finishes.
Was I the only one who expected Detective Regan or the guy he was attempting to arrest to go out the window at the end of this week’s Blue Bloods?
Finally got around to watching Fringe last night. The first 95% was pretty much pointless, in my opinion, and then in the last minute there was another one of those game changers. What do you do when Leonard Nimoy decides to opt out of acting any more and you need his character? Give William Bell to someone else to channel. Anna Torv is getting the chance to work out a lot of acting chops this season, eh? As a chemist, this was an eminently cringe-worthy episode, since it flew in the face of everything known about heavy metal science. Okay, so that was supposed to be the point, but still. I’m glad that Peter and Olivia have finally decided to clear the air between them, right down to Peter confessing what he’s been up to lately, but what will this new change do to their relationship. I mean, is Peter even a Star Trek fan? It’s one thing for Leonard to ask his new girlfriend if she’ll consider dressing up like Uhura on The Big Bang Theory, but when your girlfriend all but turns into Spock, well, that’s gotta put a damper on things. The one thing the episode missed highlighting, I thought, was the fact that Krick was breaking every rule in the book to save his son. Walter could relate to that, no doubt. And I wonder if they ever considered letting the last experiment subject float away instead of being rescued.
Favorite scene by far, though, was Walter and the security guard, played by Lost’s Jorge Garcia, sharing a joint as Walter told about ending up in bed with Yoko. “It was the 70s. What could he say?” And it was funny when Walter thought that William would return through Nina.
