July Roundup, ’17

Let’s just dive right in, shall we? Not a whole lot of ground to cover this month…

Watch this shit:

  • I’m Sorry

    A comedy writer who keeps it really real finds herself in odd scrapes with folks who keep it really fake. And she says “fuck” a lot! What’s not to love?

  • Midnight, Texas

    A psychic, who regularly hangs out with his dead pothead grandma, moves to the creepiest of all creepy towns that happens to be inhabited by all sorts of sexy folks. Psychics, ghosts, vampires, witches who may or may not be lesbians that have talking cats, and since it’s based on Charlaine Harris novels… a murder mystery as well! It’s been too long since we’ve had some good True Blood-esque TV and, dare I say it, I think Midnight might even be more enjoyable. After all, “Midnight is very different in daylight.” (That line was way too good for me to not quote.)

    There is one big issue, though. A huge pet peeve of mine. Tattoo artists who don’t have tattoos. That should never be a thing. Ever. Ever ever ever.

    Said tattoo artist also happens to be gay. And an angel, which is not the problem. The problem is, but hopefully won’t be: he’s in a relationship. If him and his man friday never get affectionate (as damn near every straight actor playing gay tends to never do), then I’m gonna spend way too much time being pissed off about it. So, NBC better save me from wasting all of that time and energy by making two people in a relationship fucking kiss. Please and thank you.

  • Ozark

    This one slipped through my cracks. Didn’t actually know anything about it until Netflix flashed it on my screen and said “Hey, watch this!” It turned out to be a pleasant surprise. Jason Bateman‘s been a low-key criminal for ten years, eight of which his partners spent ripping off their boss. When bossman finds out, a whole mess of people get killed, but Jason sweet talks his way into moving his family to the Ozarks where he’s sure he’ll make millions of dollars by doing… some kind of shit with drugs. I don’t know, it was confusing. He’s really stoic and he knows way more about money than you or I. Also, he’s married to Laura Linney who was fucking this dude who gets thrown off of a building (which we see happen, up close and way too personal… fun) and his kids hate him. Basically: Think Breaking Bad minus cancer.

Meh:

  • The Last Tycoon

    Behind the scenes of a 1930’s Hollywood movie studio. Quite literally behind the scenes, in fact, with the Dust Bowl migrants living in the backlot. Also, America’s Sweetheart has died. And Hitler’s trying to control films while still murdering people, which Frasier‘s cool with.

    Oh, and I almost forgot about the aortal defect our main character has that will cause his heart to just randomly explode some day. Can you feel my eyeroll through your screen?

Don’t watch this shit:

  • Salvation

    I’m giving major side-eye to whoever wrote this pilot. The first five minutes amounts to “women in power and their pesky feelings about things,” while minutes six through ten are “See?! I TOLD YOU lame, nerdy, ‘smart’ guys can get girls! They even joke about math problems before they do. lolz”

    Said nerdy guy cums and goes just in time to 1) get his professor killed, 2) get chased by men in black, 3) convince some rich dude we’re supposed to care about to give him the time of day, and 4) save the world from… asteroids, folks. Asteroids. All of which covers the first fifteen minutes. I could not stomach a sixteenth, to be honest.

  • Will

    Ya’ wanna know what really pisses me off? When you try to modernize the past and you do it horribly. No one said the word “shitbag” until the 1940’s and they sure didn’t use it in the Elizabethan era. It makes me as angry as a sentence beginning with “Ya’ wanna” would’ve probably made Shakespeare.

    This series is created and written by Craig Pearce, who co-authored Baz Luhrmann‘s Romeo + Juliet, which I thought meant great things for the show. The problem is, though, that all he really did for the film was cut and paste. The source material was already there. He takes the creation upon himself this go around and does it without Baz. Which leaves us with not-so-interesting stories featuring the folks from jolly old dressed up like lost boys who paint their faces with neon. It’s a fucking Ren fair on acid.

    Not to mention, the last episodic retelling of a Shakespearean story (granted, it wasn’t about the man himself) has not worked out so well. If Shonda can’t do it, TNT sure can’t.

Advertisements

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.