Cleared to resume

I kind of want to write something erotic and edgy, full of nameless back-alley couplings, violent, passionate encounters, or stolen moments in dark smokey bars.

Unfortunately, I keep getting disrupted by things like severe lack of sleep the last four weeks.

Supposedly, I’m still healing incredibly well; my doctor cleared me today to start working out (slowly), and to resume normal activity. Not that I have any idea what normal means, but I’ll assume that means I can ride a motorcycle or put full weight on my knuckles now (both things I’ve been generally avoiding for a while).

However, I have no patience with weakness or discomfort. The fact that it still aches at night may be ‘normal’, but it’s drivin’ me up the wall, and completely interfering with my sleep. I want to attack things, and the lack of sleep is leaving my generally ineffective and groggy (and pretty severely grumpy as well).

Next week I start physical therapy, which should hurt, but in more of a good way. I’m hoping the aches of activity will be far preferable to the aches of inactivity (ie, I’d rather have it hurt for a good reason, if it’s gonna hurt).

I keep trying to actually get writing done (with ‘done’ being relative, since I haven’t been able FINISH anything in forever), so possibly, possibly, I’ll get traction here soon.

Are you with me Doctor?

There’s a Steely Dan song – Doctor Wu. As is typical of Steely Dan songs, it’s about drugs, though it could also be about romance, or about something else entirely; The lyrics are elliptical, yet evocative. It makes you wonder what story is being told. Are you with me Doctor Wu? Are you really just […]

There’s a Steely Dan song – Doctor Wu. As is typical of Steely Dan songs, it’s about drugs, though it could also be about romance, or about something else entirely; The lyrics are elliptical, yet evocative. It makes you wonder what story is being told.

Are you with me Doctor Wu?
Are you really just a shadow of the man that I once knew?
Are you crazy? Are you high? Or just an ordinary guy?
Have you done all you can do?
Are you with me Doctor?

But my brother Ian and I didn’t sing it the way Donald Fagan wrote it. Because when we heard it, we heard it as “Are you with me Doctor Who?“, Much like John Barrowman’s take-off on The Wizard and I, which he sang as The Doctor and I.

Doctor Who has a way of creeping into other cultural areas. Even Shriekback has a reference to Daleks in a song called Hammerheads (“Our time has come, age of the hammerhead – This is our mission, to be the Daleks of God”).

The why of this is somewhat difficult to explain, if you didn’t grow up with The Doctor. The british, I suspect, understand this, but us yanks don’t, for the most part.

In america, Doctor Who is remembered as a bizarre, campy british show that we used to run across late at night on PBS stations. Primarily, we remember the iconic Tom Baker; wild eyes, wild hair, seventeen-foot-long scarf. Baker’s portrayal is relentlessly loopy, yet with a dark and gloomy level just below; he had a sort of whimsical grandeur, a mad-scientist air that balanced funny with steely-eyed serious.

It was a show that was easy to laugh at or hate. It was cheaply made, with effects that already looked ridiculous by the time it made a dent in the american consciousness in the late seventies. It was un-even in terms of writing and acting, and most of the dialog was so full of jargon and technobabble that it sometimes felt like it was in a foreign language. It also rarely made any logic sense, outside the universe of the show.

But it was also lovable. There’s something so cleverly inventive and goofy about it that it was hard not to be drawn in. And once you were in, if you were lucky enough to start with one of the better story lines, you tended to stick. Because while the writing was uneven, the show was always creative. It was always intelligent; thick with inventive settings, bizarre creatures, and whimsical characters.

One of the most interesting things about it was the depth of it’s mythology. By the late seventies, when PBS began showing the Tom Bakar Doctor (the ‘fouth doctor‘ in the show’s parlance), it had already been on for some fourteen or fifteen years in Britain. There were recurring villains, long-running partners (‘Companions‘), and The Doctor had already changed actors several times (using one of the show’s cleverest devices, ‘regeneration‘; a handy plot device when the the first actor left the show, which went on to become a key element of the character and ongoing story).

One of the things that differentiates rich, enduring sci-fi or fantasy is depth of background; the story behind the story. Lord of the Rings benefitted from Tolkien’s vast linguistic and historic work that never it page within the novel; Star Wars and Star Trek developed into cults based on universes built within, and then outside the narrative.

Doctor Who worked for the same reason; it’s body of myth supports it, even when it’s out on a limb in terms of content. Even when the dialog was terrible and the plots didn’t make sense, you knew you were in the middle of something that was building to mythic proportion.

All that said, I was never a huge fan of the original show. I loved it’s concept; I loved the wackiness and cleverness. But I couldn’t ever get past it’s carefree attitude towards logical plotting; its complete disregard for the inherent paradox of time travel. I also couldn’t get past its uneven scripting (I have, as you may know, and incredibly low tolerance for poor writing). I watched it, primarily, because my brother was absolutely hooked. Often I’d find him in the middle of a multi-episode marathon on a saturday night, and I’d watch while he explained the details I’d missed.

He remained a dedicated fan for years; watching through Bakar’s regeneration into Peter Davisdon, and then delving back into the older John Pertwee and Patrick Troughton eras (and this was before video rentals were available; he tracked the show across PBS stations and watched it it the middle of the night, if he had to). I was aware of the show, until I moved out of my parents house; it was a constant on our tv.

And then I lost track. It went on, though, running through three more regenerations and eight more years, before it finally died a quiet death in 1989, a victim of passing time and it’s own declining quality. I think it lost it’s ability to be relevant in an era of CGI and action blockbusters, and tried to make up for this by getting sillier and sillier.

I was wholly unaware of of a 1996 attempt to bring it back (with Paul McGann as the eighth doctor). My brother died that same year, or I think he would have noticed and told me. And I was equally unaware of the 2005 revival, featuring Christopher Eccleston as the ninth Doctor.

It wasn’t until April 2007 that I noticed it, and then, only because my mother called me one day to tell me about a new show called Torchwood; a spin-off of the re-born Doctor Who. I think she’d forgotten that it was Ian who was the Doctor Who fan, not me. Still, I set my Tivo to record Torchwood; and loved it, when I saw it.

Only when I looked up Torchwood on Wikipedia did I realize that there was a whole new, re-born Doctor Who; but I ignored it, remembering the classic and not feeling any need to go back. I figured it was the same thing with new faces.

I missed out on something major, which isn’t all that unusual for me with great TV shows (I can barely think of one I picked up from the beginning; I always come in later with DVD rentals).


When Russell T Davies decided to bring back Doctor who after a a sixteen year hiatus, it’s very clear that he wanted to make a different kind of show.

I think in the years between the show’s demise and rebirth, it had become a bit of a joke. It certainly had here in the sates. So the fear was, I think, than a new version would be ignored or dismissed. I reacted that vvery way, and I think the producers who decided to bring it back feared audiences would react that same way. But Doctor Who is a british cultural icon in england, something several generations have grown up with. It’s a mythology they all know, fans or not. So what they bought back wasn’t doctor who as it had been; it was a child that surpassed the parent.

Whenever you delve back into the past for fodder for films or tv shows, you set yourself in a mine field. Sometimes we get attempts to bring something back just as it was, such as the first Star Trek films, which expanded on the original series without significantly altering it in tone or content. Sometimes film makers approach subjects with camp and satire; scooby doo, brady bunch, starsky and hutch. And sometimes they completely reboot as with the recent Star Trek, or with Mission Impossible. Some of those work incredibly well, some not at all, and most make little impact either way.

What’s hard though – and here, I’m trying to come up with another example – is to bring something back in a way that’s both true to the original, and better than the original. The only other examples I can think of are comic books; Alan Moore’s brilliant re-imagining of Swamp Thing, Frank Miller’s Dark Knight, Chris Claremont’s 1970s X-Men.

Davies and company did it. They brought The Doctor into the 21st century. They brought it back intact, with all the mythos of forty years, with all it’s history, with all it’s sense of whimsy and melodrama. But they had tools the original never had; budget, and technology, and perhaps most important, a clear, focused artistic vision. For the first time, the aliens look cool, the TARDIS looks mysterious, ancient, and alien, and the other planets and spaceships look like, well, like other planets and spaceships. Sure, there’s still that vague edge of silliness to them, but here, that’s because they’re supposed to be a bit silly.

But the real difference isn’t effects, or a modern look and feel. The real difference is that Russell T Davis is a brilliant writer, and a brilliant show runner.

There are those people out there who can take a concept – no matter hod odd, unlikely, or silly – and make it sing. I can think of no better example than Joss Whedon; on the surface, Buffy the Vampire Slayer seemed one of the dumbest show ideas ever. But Joss wove it into something transcendent; dark, mythic; tragic destiny and romance, an almost operatic storyline, told with cheerleaders and wry humor. What Joss did should be impossible.

Russell T Davis and Joss Whedon seem to be some sort of soul brothers. Because what Joss did with Buffy, Davis has done with that absurd old warhorse, Doctor Who. He took the bits and pieces of something silly and moribund, and fashioned it into true art.

The very first moment Christopher Eccleston walks on screen, you know this Doctor is different. One of the things the old Doctors had in common were a variety of whimsical, archaic (and occasionally absurd) costumes. They were typically older, rather professorial men, with the air of mad scientists or eccentric wizards. Not so Eccleston; he runs on screen in dark, urban clothing, heavy shoes and a U-boat commander’s leather deck coat. With his craggy Manchester features, buzz cut hair and rough clothing, he looks more like a thug; like a british gangster from a Guy Ritchie film. This ain’t your parents Doctor, his look says. This is something else.

I watched the first episode – Rose – because my daughter’s best friend was obsessed. I wanted to know what captured her ten-year-old mind, and if it was more or less than than what I remembered. I was sucked in from the first scene, but that meant little, because the show opens with Billie Piper waking up, bed-headed and groggy. I was in love with her from the very first moment of the show. Billie Piper as Rose Tyler is one of those women who gets directly into my heart; some magical combination of actress and role that make up a person so real, you miss them when they’re gone, miss them like an ex-girlfriend or absent lover.

But it’s when Eccleston walks in with his thug’s appearance and his northern accent and says “I’m the Doctor, by the way – run for your life!” that I decided I wasn’t just in love with Billie Piper, but that I really liked this new version of Doctor Who.

I was not, however, instantly converted. I didn’t watch episodes in order; I walked in and out, watching bits and pieces of episodes as my kids and their friends showed me favorite scenes and explained in loving (and often incoherent) detail what was going on and who was doing what to whom.

It seemed a bit silly; I loved that they were watching it, but I never quite bought into the idea.

It wasn’t until the last couples of months that I went back and watched it all, in order. And I found, first, that one has to watch it in order, and second, that it’s incredibly good. Hell, not good, great.

Russell T Davies’ Doctor Who isn’t just a series. It’s a story arc that runs across four years of TV. Two Doctors, a half dozen Companions, a love story, far too many deaths, and the world saved countless times. But it’s ONE GODDAMNED STORY. Every episode is full of foreshadow, back-reference, and internal continuity. IT’s full of clues you won’t recognize until a second or third watching. Every small story along the way builds on what came before, and every relationship is defined by, or defines, other relationships. Some of the episodes are funny, some are deadly serious; but they form one continuous, romantic, tragic tale. And that’s the key to all of it, understanding that you’re not watching single episodes, you’re watching something on operatic scale. The story’s told with with humor; but like Whedon’s work, it’s gallows humor, characters laughing when they know everything is coming down around them sooner or later. This Doctor is has a dark, haunted, injured look to him; not just goofy and bizarre, but tragic. He knows he’s alone, knows he’s ultimately doomed, you can see it in his eyes.

The casting is uniformly great; not just the major parts (Eccelston for some season, then David Tennant for three) but the smaller ones as well. And like HBO and Showtime shows in the US, Davis and his group of writers and directors get absolutely phenomenal work out of the actors by giving them terrific scripts, and then giving them room to really act. Tennant is a truly gifted performer, with range beyond what anyone could imagine and a shakespearean sense of timing (He gets more out of the word “…Well…” than most actors get out of a whole script). But actors like Catherine Tate, John Barrowman and Freema Agyeman also turn in performances that always seem more than one would ever expect.

To be sure, the show isn’t perfect. It’s inherently somewhat silly; it requires a vast suspension of disbelief. Any story based on time travel sets itself difficult territory; time travel is a mine-field of paradox and logic flaw. Doctor Who solves this by applying a few in-show ‘laws’ about interfering with time-streams and and ‘fixed points in time’ that can’t be changed. But primarily, they solve it by simply ignoring the issue (to the point where the almost break the third wall, characters saying “because it’s more fun this way!” when asked the hard questions about why they have to solve a problem the way they do).

It’s also somewhat uneven. There are many writers and directors involved, some of who stand out in terms of brilliance, and some not. They push boundaries in terms of story telling, and sometimes get out on thin ice in terms of believability or character behavior; but even the weakest episodes feature superior acting, and (usually) clever dialog. Even when they get somewhat absurd, they’re still incredibly well written. And every single episode moves the greater story along in significant ways.

I’ve now seen the entirety of seasons 1 through 4; the key story arc is over, in all it’s dark, tragic, romantic glory. Davis era as show runner is over, as is David Tennat’s tour as the doctor. The only thing left me are the four ‘special’ episodes (technically still season four, but really, they’re a mini-season, like the 3rd Torchwood series). When I finish those, I’m done with it. And it feels not unlike when I finished Sandman; that same sense of admiration and loss. Sandman, of course, came (to me) with years of popular admiration, so I expected it to be all it is. This, however, caught me entirely by surprise. Because I’d grown up with the old, and seen plenty of the new; I’d watch two seasons of Torchwood. I thought I knew what this show was, what it was all about. I knew Daleks and Cybermen and The Master. What I didn’t know, though, was Russell T Davis. Because he’s what makes this different.

There’s a new series coming; but it’s almost entirely new. New show runner (Stephen Moffat, writer of some of the new Dooctor’s best episodes, like Empty Child/Doctor Dances, and Blink), a new doctor (Matt Smith), a new Companion (Amy Pond); there’s even a new logo. But it’s not, in any significant way, the same show. It’s a whole new thing, a rebirth not just for the Doctor, but for the story, for the entire show.

One can only hope that, like the character himself, the show can be re-born yet again to be new, and the same.

My Shoulder

I kind of had this plan to blog my way through my surgery this week. I kind of think that was over-optomistic, considering a) I haven’t been blogging at all most of the last year and b) I haven’t really had much use of my left arm.

I didn’t quite get there; best I managed with posting photos f the inside of my shoulder on facebook, and tweeting about how looped I was on percocet in the middle of the night.

To summarize though, for those who aren’t following me elsewhere – December 23, I had arthroscopic surgery on my left shoulder

Read more “My Shoulder”

what the hell is wrong with Dexter?

Watch out, there be spoilers ahead . Ok, caveate: I think Dexter has always been vastly over-rated. It’s one of those ’emperors-new-clothes’ deals – has a rep for being all sorts of things it isn’t, like great, edgy, dark. They’ve somehow created the aura of these things without ever having to actually deliver. But Dexter […]

Watch out, there be spoilers ahead .

Ok, caveate: I think Dexter has always been vastly over-rated. It’s one of those ’emperors-new-clothes’ deals – has a rep for being all sorts of things it isn’t, like great, edgy, dark. They’ve somehow created the aura of these things without ever having to actually deliver.

But Dexter has always shown potential. It has cast going for it, and a strong concept, and a great setting (it’s one of the few shows set in Miami that actually look like Miami, at least how I think Miami looks). The problem has always been that it doesn’t know what to do with what it has.

The core of the idea is simple; A serial killer who’s been trained as a vigilante, channeling his urge to kill. He’s Batman meets Son of Sam.

The theme of the show, when it started, was that of an alien, an outsider. Dexter’s attempt to fit in by hiding in plain sight, by pretending to normalcy. It’s classic werewolf/vampire territory, where the monster may hide in plain site, all the while knowing he’s a predator feeding on humanity. It’s rich, if somewhat staid, territory; and then angle they’ve put on it (serial killer as hero) is pretty original (we’ve seen the opposite many times; the heroic vigilante who’s really sort of a criminal; but here it’s flipped – it’s criminal killer directing his crimes at other worse criminals).

The trouble is, someone (someone at showtime, maybe, or the show runners Cerone and Phillips) decided that they need to make Dexter more likable. And that’s where the big pitfall is. Because they’re already there, thanks to Michael C Hall’s performance (he really just can’t be anything BUT likable, no matter how he’s presented, like Mickey Mouse in a Darth Vader costume).

In the first season, they managed it all pretty well. Dexter was a wry and funny narrator, and Hall played him brilliantly, completely inhabiting the awkwardness of a man faking ‘normal’, copying those around him for reactions. The surrounding cast helped (Jennifer Carpenter is fantastic as Dexter’s sister, for example, playing the other side of the confused and socially awkward coin). Sure, there were problems; mostly with plot, but we can blame the book for that ( Season 1 is lifted mostly from Darkly Dreaming Dexter), though there’s a glaring casting problem with Lauren Vélez as Maria LaGuerta (she can’t act her way out of a paper bag).

One of the best devices in season 1 was Rita (Julie Benz), who’s introduced as a pathetic, neurotic basket-case; a perfect ‘beard’ for dexter, because he doesn’t care about her at all, and she’s so damaged all she needs from him is that he seem to care about her (something Dexter learns to fake well enough to keep his cover). She’s sad and deeply dislikable, which is exactly what she needs to be (since Dexter is using her, and doesn’t care at all about her).

While season one’s the plot devices are weak and improbable, and the writing is uneven, on the whole it works. The effect is sort of light weight and melodramatic, but with enough real high points to make it all work.

This start to go wrong – very badly wrong – in season two.

One of the key points we’ve learned about Dexter is that he’s brilliant; almost super-human. Strong, quick, dangerous, with a monster’s mind behind the seemingly mild-mannered disguise. He doesn’t make mistakes; he’s only threatened when he meets a mind as dangerous as his own. Yet, Season 2 opens with Dexter ‘exposed’ by his (we see in season 2) really, really stupid way of hiding bodies (wrapped in fucking plastic bags, and dropped into shallow water on a reef – the worst sort of rookie mistake, and not something anyone with a clue would do, let alone a police forensic investigator). It’s the worst sort of cheap plotting move, and doesn’t follow at all with the character we’ve seen through season one.

So we have our first big weak plot mistake; the smart guy acting stupid. Weak. We then add in a really stupid sub-plot where a fellow officer (Doakes, hugely over-played by Erik King) stalks Dexter; again, weak. Entertaining in a small dose, but an absolute slog as a season-long arc, because it depends on Dexter acting stupid.

We also see Dexter suddenly working to try to keep Rita, who is suddenly no longer pathetic, weak and damaged, but drably likable and sweet; which doesn’t work at all because they’ve just finshed making her kind of hateful. They try to make a complete character about=-face that makes no sense at all, AND blows out her reason for being there. Dexter tells stupid lies (drug addiction? Are you kidding me? What’s this, a ‘Friends’ episode?). They try to justify this by telling us Dexter actually cares about RIta rather than to be using her as a beard; another nonsensical switch.

Sure, there are some good points; Frank Lundy, wonderfully played by Keith Carradine, and Lila (Jaime Murray) , the most appealing character in the show for the first few episodes (though predictably, as soon as she’s revealed to be a sexual wildcat, she then has to also be revealed as a psycho, in standard TV type casting of sexual women as crazy, pathetic, or mean).

The ending features a really bad deus ex machina device, and leaves Dexter resolving to not kill anymore and to be a nice guy, which isn’t the least bit in character, and pretty much blows out the reason we’re here, to see the hero serial killer. When dexter doesn’t kill, he’s both out of character, and boring.

Season 3 fairs a bit better; Dexter actually has a decent opponent; Jimmy Smits as ADA Miguel Prado, who chews up scenes wonderfully, if improbably. But we’ve already gotten used to some improbability; like 24, if the show is well written and well paced (and well cast), we have to ignore little problems like logic. Unfortunately, to balance the far better villain, we get a really, really stupid plot device; Rita is now pregnant, and Dexter decides to marry her. Sure, this arc comes from the book, but they’ve thrown away most of the rest of the books by now; why keep this one, Particularly when the books are reputed to be terrible. They’ve already made Rita aan annoying (and inconsistent) character, why drag her along more, and shoe-horn dexter into scenes that don’t fit with his serial killer nature? Oh, and wait, he’s not not really killing. Why? I can only assume it’s the producers trying to make him likable (really, he may be a killer, and crazy, but look, he’s not really crazy and doesn’t really kill!)

Overall, the season works, but despite it’s failings; it’s clear the writers don’t really know who the characters are anymore, and it’s clear Dexter’s now a serial killer in name only; he’s now just a weird dude who talks to himself, and has a hobby of vigilanteism.

I had hopes that season two was the anomaly; that they’d started to get this show back on track. I was wrong.

Season four had promise; John Lithgow as another serial killer (wow, they’re thick on the ground in Dexter’s universe). Lithgow can do a lot to salvage bad material; he’s really, really good. And to his credit, he’s the only thing that works about season 4. He’s frightening, and completely convincing.

Unfortunately, that’s vastly offset by the fact that the show runners have clearly thrown out any character continuity, and have decided that filler is a crucial plot device.

What seems like two full thirds of each episode is dedicated to a dreadful and stupid plot line with LaGuerta (yes, she still has a job, but god knows why, it’s certainly not due to any acting ability whatsoever), and Angel Batista (David Zayas). Now, Zayas is an extremely appealing actor, but he’s acting opposite a waxy lump, and he’s given truly awful dialog. Worse (or almost as bad, it’s hard to decide), the plot between these two characters (an illicit affair between superior and underling) is full of bizarre ideas, like a threat of a perjury charge for a statement that had nothing to do with a court (wow, you’d think someone in the writer’s room would know what perjury means, or at least check a wikipedia to see). Everything these characters do is boring, stupid, illogical, and badly acted (because Velez’ terrible acting brings down that of everyone around her, she’s like a talent black hole).

Added to that, we get a truly pointless side plot about Rita kissing a neighbor (as if Dexter would care at all), and various other Rita nonsense. It seems like each episode it an hour and three quarters long, with only about 20 minutes of that featuring plot movement with Dexter and Lithgow’s Trinity character. The show DRAGS.

I’m almost tempted to resort to a bullet list of stupid devices; at one point Miami Metro police put up a city wide checkpoint to screen for DNA so they can find Trinity. Well, sure, nevermnind that it’s unconstitutional, AND that any evidence is not admissible in court. To pay for this, they free up several million dollars by “working the books”. Wow, I should get them to come work my books, I could spend that money on something that might actually be useful.

Dexter, in another smart-character-doing-idiotic-things device, decides he has to study trinity because trinity is so good at pretending to be a regular guy (never mind that dexter has already been transformed into a regular guy, the ‘monster’ thing was jettisoned last season). Dexter assumes a fake identity (using a real person’s name that’s easy to track), presents himself in public all over the place with Trinity, meets Trinty’s family, and leaves his DNA everywhere. Nothing here makes a shred of sense.

Once Dexter has gotten all cozy with Trinity, his sense of empathy and moral outrage (wait, what empathy and moral outrage? Wasn’t Dexter a complete sociopath with no empathy? Oh, right, he got better) forces him to decide he has to kill Trinity. Of course, he can’t just lead the police to Trinity; no, Dexter has to do it himself. What happens when the police start closing in? Well, sure, he does the sensible thing and INTERFERES WIT THE INVESTIGATION, insuring that Trinity won’t be caught. Nevermind Dexter’s code, which was that he should only kill the ones who got away; Dexter actually insures Trinity gets away. So now Dexter’s completely off character track; Code be fucking damned, evidently. Yet Dexter still spends a good half of his screen time with ghost-dad, who seems not to know the code anymore either. Dexter is n o longer a serial killer at all, what he’s become is a vigilante, and a not-very-good one.

Typically, one of the most interesting characters in the show, Joey Quinn, is under-used, despite being caught red handed stealing money at a crime scene. This character is as complicated and mysterious as anyone on the show, yet they never explore who the fuck he is and what motivates him. His only real value this season is that he’s screwing a reporter (Courtney Ford as Christine Hill), (and THAT is only really rewarding because miss Ford spends quite a number of scenes naked, and has fantastic little titties) before she becomes another lame plot device (There’s a spoiler there, but it’s neither interesting for useful, plot-wise).

The whole last third of the season is a loop; dexter almost gets trinity, but then for some reason (usually because dexter does something stupid or gets interrupted by having to play hubby/daddy for Rita), does’t; on this goes for twenty or thirty episodes (or so it feels). It finally ends up where it should have been several episodes earlier, with Dexter seal-a-mealing Trinity and than killing him, while also being really nice to him for no apparent reason. It’s an event that feels weeks overdue, and when it happens, only Lithgow’s acting makes it anything other than a letdown.

########## SPOILER BELOW ##########

And then we get the exceedingly obvious (and of course, improbable) twist ending. If you watch the show, you know what this is, and if you didn’t, well, tough shit if you ignored the spoiler warnings; Dexter comes home to pack and meet Rita in the Keys, only to find she’s just sent him a voice mail saying she’s a little late (note that the voice mail comes in RIGHT AS DEXTER IS STANDING THERE, which would be impossible). As dexter tries to call her back, you already know she’s dead.

And then we get a lovely scene re-creating DExter’s childhood blood-bath (which of course trinty didn’t know about, so it’s an ironic accident!), with Rita dead in the bath (which is filled with roughly five times the volume of blood a body actually contains), and baby Harrison sitting in a lurid blood puddle on the floor (looking more pissed than afraid).

The scene is supposed to have vast emotional impact; but the problem is, Rita’s the worst single character in a show full of train-wreck characters. She’s alternately annoying or boring. So her death has only one effect; possible reboot of the show without it’s dragging boat anchor of a plot device. This is a good thing, aesthetically (it looks cool), and plot wise.

Alas, this show is consistent only in it’s ability to disappoint and underwhelm. So I have absolutely no faith in the show runners ability to do something good here (my bet? We get my-three-sons dexter as the harried single dad; suddenly we have a sit-com setup where dear-old-dad thinks he’s a serial killer).

Ok, so I guess what the fans out there (and they are fucking legion) will say is, well just don’t watch it. BUt there’s the problem; I want to watch it. I just want it to be good. Dexter has one of the best, and most forgiving, ideas for any show out there right now. It’s really hard to go wrong with a serial killer-vigilante; it’s hard to go wrong with a wolf-amoung-the-sheep plot. You really have to do a pretty terrible job to fail a crop with that fertile soil. And the cast in generally strong; Hall, Carpenter, Carradine, Smits, Lithgow; these people are all really good actors, people who can go tie to tie with anyone on teevee.

It’s the richness of the ingredients that makes this so bitter; they have so much, and they turn in into such crap. It’s akin to what great chefs say about great ingredients; the chef’s job is simply to not ruin what he has, because its starts out so good. Dexter is like that; but the writers and show runners are akin to giving farm-fresh produce and kobe beef to Dennys. Everything comes out tasting like greasy hash.

I want this show to be good, because it could be. And I’m sick of [people acting like it’s there; we deserve better, and they’re capable of it. Shape the fuck up, Showtime.

Deadringer Minima – a smaller skull ring

Since I’ve been back on the skull ring thing lately (thanks to Carlos at Sinners Inc), I realized I never posted about the latest DeadRingers skulls. People have been asking me for ages about smaller rings; the cool thing is, some of the jewelers I’m friends with have started to listen. The Deadringers version is […]

Since I’ve been back on the skull ring thing lately (thanks to Carlos at Sinners Inc), I realized I never posted about the latest DeadRingers skulls.

People have been asking me for ages about smaller rings; the cool thing is, some of the jewelers I’m friends with have started to listen.

The Deadringers version is called The Minima. It comes in two versions, the Minima Yorrick (jawless), and the Minima Classic (full skull).

Examples below; each side by side with it’s big brother. I have the larger versions of both of these.

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These are pefect for smaller fingers (pinky rings, ladies rings, or just for someone who wants to go more subtle).

Dimension comparison for the Classic is below.

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I’ve been craving one of these since Mark announced them months ago.

I’m planning to get one as a pinky ring, though I’m still waffling over which one I want. Really, I want them both, but that blows too much of my silver budget all at once.

Gary Rocks on Keith Richards skull ring

Gary at GARY ROCKS has a great writeup on Keith Richards C&H skull ring. Over the past 30 years Keith Richards silver skull ring has taken on its own mythology and iconic status. The most famous ring in the world has come to signify not only Keith Richards the man – seen wearing it at […]

Gary at GARY ROCKS has a great writeup on Keith Richards C&H skull ring.

Over the past 30 years Keith Richards silver skull ring has taken on its own mythology and iconic status. The most famous ring in the world has come to signify not only Keith Richards the man – seen wearing it at every gig and in every photograph – but Rock and Roll itself. The ring has inspired both an international cult following and unlimited fake copies. There have been countless claims as to who designed and made the original but this is the true story.

Read the whole entry here.


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Symphony of Science – Our Place in the Cosmos

One more from the brilliant John Boswell at Symphony of Science. This one features a chorus by Richard Dawkins. [youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vioZf4TjoUI&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1]

One more from the brilliant John Boswell at Symphony of Science.

This one features a chorus by Richard Dawkins.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vioZf4TjoUI&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca&border=1]

Sinners Skull

My new ring, courtesy of of my brutha Carlos of Sinners Inc. The first thing you’ll notice about this thing is, it’s freakin’ huge. I mean, absurdly huge. When Carlos decided to make a skull (after working with me for two years and seeing my double fistful of skulls every day), he decided he had […]

My new ring, courtesy of of my brutha Carlos of Sinners Inc.

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The first thing you’ll notice about this thing is, it’s freakin’ huge. I mean, absurdly huge.

When Carlos decided to make a skull (after working with me for two years and seeing my double fistful of skulls every day), he decided he had to make a statement. He did it with pure mass.

This skull weighs about a third of a goddam pound, and is nearly an inch and three quarters from the tip of it’s pointy chin to the top of it’s forehead. Below is a picture with some of the rest of the collection (left to right, that’s the Sinner, the Courts and Hackett ‘Keith Richards’, Deadringers ‘Classic’, a Dave’s Custom, a Ruby Crush jawless, and my old Elvis LIves skull from Tony Creed. You can see how out of scale this thing is when you realize that the Deadringers and the Courts and Hackett are both really, really big rings,

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The second thing you’ll notice is that it’s gorgeous. Carlos started with an anatomically accurate model of a skull; like me, he wanted the real deal, not some snarling cartoon. Like most of my favorite rings, there’s no exaggeration, just beautiful bone rendered in silver.

I love this thing.

It’s not a ring you’re gonna wear every day. I had to take it off to work a mouse; there’s no way I can work with it on. I’m almost certainly going to hurt myself with it. But it’s a ring I’m reaching for when I put on the full set.

Really, the only issue I have with this thing is that next to it, my other rings will be invisible; but what the hell. Sometimes you gotta go big.

Carlos and Sinners Inc’s work, by the way, is currently showing up on the great big ham fists on Guy Fieri. Keep an eye out on the current season of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives; Carlos’ signature piston ring should show up prominently in some of the latest episodes.