Death, Peanuts, & Detours

If you’ve been feeling like every show on television can’t seem to get through this season without killing someone… it’s probably because that’s exactly how the fuck it is. And, gurl, it’s getting tiresome. In the past month alone (give or take a few days), I’ve had to tell the following unlucky bitches to rest in peace:

And that’s just the shows I actually watch. Not to mention #TheLexaPledge. I don’t even know Lexa (having never seen an episode of The 100), but her death has managed to spark a revolution involving writers and producers of shows I do watch. Also, Castle‘s over or something? Again, a show I’ve never watched, though I do know that actors’ contracts were being reupped for another season which became moot once news of the main character’s death started being reported and left the fans outraged and belligerent enough for the network to pull the plug all-together.

Is this not reason enough for writers to stop thinking “Who can we kill?” If not, I don’t know what the hell will be.

I took a seat and really wondered where this all started. The best I could come up with is: The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones, and hashtags are to blame. These are two shows which, one could argue, are about death. I welcome any and all hate mail and trolling about how they’re both “so much more than that,” but you have to admit that they are, at least partly, about mother fuckers dying. And that shit trends like nobody’s business. You’ll usually get applauded by critics for following the beat of your own drum, but in terms of Facebook and Twitter… you get rewarded for following the beat of the loudest drum. So, of course every network executive is cramming “KILL BITCHES” down every writer’s throat. But, again… the shit is getting OLD. Life is more interesting. Not “life regarding death of a loved one.” If you think it’s something your character absolutely has to explore, I can be okay with that. Hell, I’m filling my own head with bullshit dreams of writing a series, the entirety of which orbits around someone’s death. But if your whole deal is being a pregnant virgin or a fairy tale hero or a time-traveling bad boy… killing a mother fucker just isn’t necessary. We have enough actual death to deal with. We don’t need it in our entertainment.

With all that being said, I wanna shift gears and talk about how gay Schroeder is.

Apparently, somewhere in France, some Peanuts enthusiast thought producing one bagillion 3-minute animated shorts would be a good idea. I love me some Peanuts, so I’m not mad at whoever that was. And I’m especially not mad at whoever thought adding English vocals and airing that shit in America was a good idea. It premiered last month, but with my little ol’ DVR life, I was only able to watch the first handful of shorts today.

Why it took me so long to realize, especially with the widely known relationship between Peppermint Patty and Marcie, I don’t know. But watching Lucy fawn all over Schroeder and watching him reject her for the seven trillionth time finally made it click in my head… Schroeder is gay as fuck. First, there’s him being the vehement piano player. A man of the arts. Then there’s Lucy, a woman of the mind. Bitch is already practicing psychiatry at the age of 5-ish. A doctor. Any straight man of the arts, who knows how much money a career in such is worth, would latch onto any doctor who showed him as much attention as Lucy did. Worse comes to worst, you just be sure to never play football with her. And that’s as hard as your life has to get. UNLESS… somewhere deep down in your piano playing heart, you know you could never live without some big ol’ D in your life.

Now, I must mention that I, myself, am working as an electronic book publisher by day and a pop artist by night. I also just so happen to have married a Ph.D. student. But I actually love that bitch! I met him pre-Ph.D. and wore his promise ring prior to even knowing that he applied to a Ph.D. program. So… just sayin’.

Other than all of that… If you’re not watching The Detour, you’re missing out on something amazing. I’m too drunk to get into details, but it’s co-created by Samantha Bee (who I lovingly refer to as America’s Mom, whereas John Oliver is America’s Dad) and fellow The Daily Show alum Jason Jones. And it’s the jam. Do yourself a favor and watch all of it. Right now. The end. Bye.