Sunday Bloody Sunday

Yes, this post is filled with spoilers.  Go read the books so you can stop whining about it.  Or, if you’re too lazy, stop searching for Game of Thrones in the tags.  You’re only causing your own misery.  I have no sympathy.

I did enjoy the Bran-might-meet-up-with-Jon-Snow storyline that was never in the books.  I forgive the TV writers for having Sam betray Bran by telling Jon he was alive, mostly because the show forgot to mention that salient fact, too.  I’m mostly glad they’ve wrapped that nonsense up already.  What’s the point of being a book reader if you can’t lord it over the TV watchers?  We live to be smug over non-readers.

My Sundays got a bit easier.  A few weeks ago, I was watching three shows on Sundays at nine.  My DVR can only handle two at a time so I had to resort to On Demand.  I am so not a fan of On Demand since you can’t fast forward (OMG.  Such first world problems.)  I was watching Believe, only because it was a J.J. Abrams show.  It was about a young girl with special powers who was on the run from the government with the man she did not know was her father.  Every show I watched was the same thing.  Run, run, hide, hide, oh no, they’ve spotted us, damn this New York City is a small town since they keep finding us, and in the middle of all the running and hiding, her special powers led her to do something wonderful for strangers.  Such wonderful things they’d make me cry.  I don’t need that; I have Parenthood for that.  That show was Quantum Leap with running and hiding.  What a mess.

I also watched Resurrection, which was such a mistake.  It seemed so appealing.  People were coming back from the dead.  Just regular everyday people, not Jesus Christ.  I stuck with it for ten weeks just to find out how they were coming back.  And they never told us.

I am the wrong person to read fantasy or science fiction. (except for the good ones.)  I want logic in worlds where there is no logic.  Just tell me.  Did they come back from the dead because they’re aliens, or clones, or was it magic?  I kept watching for the sole reason of seeing the writers blow it.  Besides the mystery, they wanted us to buy the fact that no one, outside of this small town in Missouri, knew people were coming back to life.  As if no one in that small town of Missouri knew about Twitter or Facebook.  Yet, somehow, the writers didn’t have the government finding out until week ten.  I hate shows that assume their viewers are stupid.

It hasn’t been renewed yet, which is fine by me.  I just found out it is based on a book, so now I can read it and find out the how.  And be even more smug.

I have a habit of rooting for TV anti-heroes: Jack Baeur, Dexter Morgan, Walter White, Nancy Botwin, Tim Riggins, Sawyer, Frank Underwood and Don Draper.  I’m hoping Mad Men ends as excellently as Breaking Bad.  I saw hints of it on Sunday.  For years, I’ve wondered if Mad Men will end with Don throwing himself out of his office window, as we see in the opening credits every week.  He’s as low as he’s ever been.   And can we just stop with the California crap?  This is a NYC show and no one cares about the Sharon Tate-Benedict Canyon nonsense with his wife.  It’s spring 1969 on the show, and when Don found the Mets banner under his filing cabinet, then sang Meet the Mets, then went to a Mets game, I felt Don is going to end as well as the ’69 Mets now.  That would be Amazin’.

My apologies to the folks who followed the “Resurrection” and “Believe” tags thinking they’d find a kindred religious soul.  Trust me.  I’m not your gal.

 

 

 

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