Blogitorial™

The following Blogitorial™ has been brought to you by the Committee to Stop Bad Lesbian Scriptwriting. It may or may not reflect the views of the publisher.

After Sunday night, the writers of The L Word have managed to create dialogue and plots that have managed to make me dislike the entire cast and most of their guest stars.
Let's start with Alice.
Her new insecurity, whining and sullenness about Dana's dinner with her ex has turned her into the kind of woman I cross the room to avoid. Alice used to be strong and funny. Now she's hosting a movable pity party, with herself as the guest of honor. That wistful expression she's been sportin' lately makes me want to projectile vomit.
Dana is supposed to be a world class tennis pro. But she never practices, never goes to the gym, and unlike every pro athlete on Earth, doesn't even bother wearing the gear. Plus her hair is greasy and looks like Ruth Buzzi's did in "Laugh-In." And since she's fixin' to cheat on the clinging vine, that makes her even more despicable.
Tina is disgusting. All that wanton horniness leads to her willingness to strip naked at every possible opportunity, exposing us to that gigantic pregnant belly and those saucer sized nipples that frighten me and give me bad dreams. She doesn't know what she wants, so she toggles between that pinched twerp Helena and Bette, who is so depressed with her life she probably needs some Librium suppositories.
Bette is not sexy with that hang dog expression. She looks like she's been smelling mildew, and she just isn't that much fun in the beaten dog role. Now she's fixin' to lose her job, which will give her plenty of time to reflect on the fact that the show she's on is so bad it actually killed Ossie Davis.
Shane and Jenny are still allowing that criminal pornographer Mark to loiter on their premises. I would have pressed criminal charges against him, filed a civil suit and hocked all his video equipment so I'd have the funds to hire a big, hairy Palooka to beat the living shit out of him. And I'd save one of his cameras so I could capture the beating on tape.
Shane is dumb. Forget all her alleged boyish appeal, she's dumb and even forgets to close her mouth sometimes when she's listening. That skinny tie and untucked shirt get-up she wears over her super low hiphuggers is played. Without hips, hiphuggers just look sad.
And so is that cat-sucked hairdo. Sad.
Jenny has finally lost the rest of her mind. Stripping at a club filled with roughneck migrants, hoboes, drunks and blue collar slobs so she "can control when she decides to take her top off" amply illustrates the bad writing on this show.
I mean, come on. I decide when to take my top off and I don't have to go to an El Segundo stripjoint to do it. The previews show her cutting herself next. Last week she explored the fetid underbelly of S&M clubs. Her psychoses are getting on my last nerve. She needs to be committed to an institution for the next 10 years instead of raiding the Goodwill, babbling in Hebrew and coyly eating Eggo waffles that Mark is making in the kitchen he has no business being in.
Helena isn't even being a good villain lately. She needs to get Bette fired, then kidnap Tina's newborn, using forged but ironclad documents that give her full custody of the baby.
Then she needs to buy the house across the street from Bette and Tina's, install a huge bay window, and let them watch her shake the baby she stole.
Carmen needs to move to another state and forget she ever knew Shane or Jenny. For someone whose favorite expletive is, "Oh my goodness," she's mixed up with a duo of maniacs who will drag her down with them, into the abyss of bad haircuts, sophomoric fantasies and prose so trite it's the written equivalent of clown paintings on velvet.
Kit is, well, Kit is Pam Grier and she's the worst actress who ever lived. No way could that father produce a child like her. She needs to fall off the wagon, lose her business and start smoking crack that she bought from the proceeds of stolen art from Bette's home.
Now let's talk music.
The new theme by an unfortunate group called Betty is a cross between "the Love Boat" and "Love, American Style" theme songs. The part where they sing, "loving learning licking sucking puking bleeding drinking drugging..." makes me want to claw my ears off.
But what's worse is they treat that horrid ditty like it's a sacred anthem.
When Jenny is having one of her tedious fantasies, please note that the background music is the L Word Theme, tortured and mangled into some sort of freakish, baroque chamber music.
Same for the circus fantasies- the goofy calliope plays that same tired theme song, mangled into a new arrangement.
Marina was wise to leave the show before it ruined her credibility as a serious actor.
I give it one more season before the lesbian community marches on Showtime and begs for it to be canceled. Note that the rightwing nutjobs aren't demanding it be axed- it's too silly for them to sit through.
The L Word makes Queer As Folk look like Masterpiece Theatre.