Dexter Gets Under My Skin...

Only Mrs. Thoreau & Harry can tell these two apart ...

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"I would never join a club that would have someone like ME for a member." This oft-quoted axiom has been credited to wits & half-wits as diverse as Woody Allen and Alan Alda, Groucho Marx and Sigmund Freud. But I'm really smart, and I know that Thoreau beat them all to it in the 1840s. I'm so smart I can't even find the actual quote, but it's in Walden or "Civil Disobedience," somewhere, I damn well know it is, because my memory is iron-clad of my undergrad. Trust me, damn you, I said he said it, and it's on the internet, so it MUST be true. I also know that Henry David Thoreau was basically flipping off Ralph Waldo Emerson by asserting this catchy bit of paradox, albeit it in different words than the above quote. I can't stand that phony bastard Emerson, so I tell myself Henry aimed that jibe at his best friend ... besides, who trusts a guy named Ralph anyway?

So, in recent weeks I joined a club and I will not apologize to Henry or Groucho for it, because it's a club I can respect, even if it freaks out most people to know such a club exists. This club is a viewership, and it has many devotees. It meets twelve times per viewing season on the Showtime network over a four-year current series history. This club is a fanbase for Dexter/Dexter. Our colors are red, and our numbers are many, and we are some freaky humans, let me tell you.

If you are unfamiliar with this show, it debuted in 2006 on the premium cable stepchild to HBO, and it relates the mental gymnastics & physical slicings of one Dexter Morgan. Dexter is a lab analyst for Miami's police department, specializing in blood-splatter study at the many crime scenes investigated by the homicide unit there. He's white, 30-something, straight, relatively normal looking ... and a serial killer.

Now, Dexter/Dexter (both the character & the series itself - all inspired by the novels of Jeff Lindsay, Darkly Dreaming Dexter, et al) travels in dark and provocative territory for this blog's funkified Roman Catholic (that's me, by the way... ) I am a believer in law and order - so is Dexter. I believe in protecting the weak and defenseless - so does Dexter. I crave Cuban sandwiches and love the ocean - so does my kindred mythical TV anti-hero, Dexter. Yet, I believe I should be allowed to slay those who traipse haphazardly and maliciously over the landscape, killing and raping and destroying - and . . . well, you get the idea.

Dexter (played effectively and without scenery-chewing by actor Michael C. Hall) has a unique focal point for his killing - he preys on cold-blooded killers. He does not kill hookers because they are sluts, or blacks because of their color, or Democrats because they are flawed, ignorant political naybobs, or anyone for any other group for an accident of birth. He kills EXCLUSIVELY those who choose to kill without good reason; those who are uncaught, unpunished practitioners of the taking of innocent life. So, in painstaking and purposeful steps which the show chronicles quite brilliantly, Dexter researches each potential escapee of man's justice, puts together a dossier of evidence, sets up a slaughterhouse in advance, and executes visceral sentences on dozens of killers. And he takes some cool, intricate, little trophies for himself as well. Many of his victims are slain before the show's narrative begins, but flashbacks and voice-overs provide all the needed exposition for what the viewer needs to know. Dexter's genesis is addressed and the watcher becomes a passive participant in this monster's ongoing formation and double life.

Yes . . . . Dexter Morgan, forensics expert and adopted son of Harry, executes and disposes of myriad murderous human beings over the history of this 48-episode show, which will concluded its fourth season in a few weeks. I began watching Season One a few weeks ago, and quickly enough, I was hooked on this disturbing but also very funny & intelligent show. I just watched episode 24 at the conclusion of Season Two, and I'll be launching Season Three this week. I hope to have all four seasons under my belt by Christmas, not-so-appropriately observing Advent's holiness and ushering in the Christ Child's Nativity with oodles of blood-spatter, vengeance, and gallows humor. Sorry, Lord . . . You made me which means You understand, right? Could be worse - I could be doing it, instead of watching it???

And I wouldn't have it any other way ... this cat is fascinating to me, and in the truest, most Greek tragicomic way - he does on this show what I, in my darkest moments, wish I could do; avenging all the wrongs of those evil sons of bitches in this world that I know damned well got away with it. In this way, the show is cathartic in that most Greek manner. I know that Dexter is morally wrong for what he does, but I refuse to judge HIM. His actions are evil, but I'll let God judge Dexter/Dexter Himself. God can handle that task - I'm barely able to keep my bed made and my bathroom clean.

And it probably doesn't matter anyway, I hear God gets HBO/Cinemax ... I read that on the internet . . . so it MUST be true, right?

Foolishly Frank Finski

Thanksgiving is a Sham.

Personally, I find the idea of celebrating our "abundance" in this country to be grotesque beyond words. How many people are starving in the world, nibbling at insects and sticks, trying to scrape out a meager existence while we glut on obscene amounts of food? While I find the notion of being with your family and being thankful for the things you have a noble one, it is something that should be practiced on a daily basis, not once a year out of some trumped-up sense of obligation.

Like the good Governor, I decided to ask a guest writer to share some of his thoughts on the Thanksgiving tradition. So, without further ado, I give you Jacob Black of the Quileutes.

OMG! He's so HOT.

To Whom It May Concern:

Thanksgiving is an example of cognitive dissonance. Everyone says it's a time to be with their families, that it's a celebration of the harvest, to be thankful, but we ALL know the real story. We all read the same history books; we know what the abundance experienced by the "pilgrims" cost my ancestors. To be perfectly honest I can't understand why anybody would want to celebrate the success of a bunch of bloodthirsty predators. What's so intriguing about them? They got where they are by devouring the innocent, and even if they don't do it anymore, it doesn't change what they are, what they have the potential to be. Why don't you ever call me, Bells? What were we talking about again?

A-Woooooo,

Jacob Black


Well, that about sums it up for me, too. I guess.

No Thanksgiving This Year

I choose not to celebrate Thanksgiving this year, so I've sent Sacheen Littlefeather to refuse my turkey. She's prepared a long rambling statement on why the holiday is evil.



Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen,

Skynet kind of sprung this on me, so I wasn't able to prepare anything with much substance. In fact, I didn't prepare anything at all, so here is a link to an article by Robert Jensen on alternet.org. Basically, the gist of it is that we probably shouldn't celebrate the genocide of native peoples by gorging on food and pretending to tolerate our families. Give em hell Bob.

Regards,
Littlefeather

Thanks babe, that was hot.

The New Robbie Williams CD is OK

Yes, I'm the American Robbie Williams fan.

I'm not sure why he never caught on here. The guy is a brilliant singer and has had a pretty insane personal life, so you'd think if nothing else he'd show up on TMZ from time to time. No such luck, but oh well. I enjoy his work, and its like I'm in an exclusive club.

He's just released his follow up to Rudebox and like Rudebox, its kind of hit and miss. The CD pretty much alternates between his classic British electro-pop and Vegas-style lounge music like his 2001 clunker Swing When You're Winning.

The CD starts out strong. Morning Sun, Bodies, and the 50's-ish You Know Me are all solid tracks, but then we hit a wall with the dreadfully sleepy Blasphemy. It picks up again for Do You Mind? and Last Days of Disco, but craps out again on Somewhere. Notice the theme? Still, we're looking at roughly 2/3rds of a good CD here, so I'm going to give it an official ranking of "OK".

In spite of this David Lynch-esque rabbit suit video, You Know Me is a fantastic song - enjoy:

New Moon...The Vampires Ruin Everything

New Moon is about to hit theaters, and the tweens and emotionally stunted women everywhere are on the verge of flinging their panties at the mere thought of "Rob". We here at Skynet always strive to stay ahead of the curve when it comes to pop culture, but we're usually a few steps behind. Such is the case with New Moon. The movie is out Friday, but we've only just slogged through the 560 or so pages of Stephanie Meyer's second sad attempt to escape from a life of Mormon oppresion and sexual boredom. She goes off on a werewolf tangent this time. Oh yes, there will be werewolves...

You'll of course recall the basic premise of Twilight: Some clutzy girl falls in love with a cool skinned bloodsucking douchebag with big hair. I think there was some subplot about a Native American kid selling her a truck or something too. When I said you will recall Twilight, I really meant you. My mind tuned most of it out. Most of the memories have been replaced by owls to protect my fragile psyche.

Anyway, the clutzy girl (Bella) is now 18 (I think - her father still grounds her, which doesn't add up to me. Must be some LDS thing.) and her douchey vampire beau Edward Cullen has planned something cartoonishly elaborate and romantic, because no one appreciates romance like an 18 year old. Since she's a clutz, she falls and cuts herself, and with vampires present, one attacks and Edward has to fend him off. Ever sensitive Edward (vampires apparently ride the same emotional rollercoaster as menopausal women) decides the only way to protect her is to vanish forever and never see her again. The Cullens all move out.

Bella is a wreck for months until her dad pounds the table and says "Hey, stop this tomfoolery!" She feigns interest in friends at first to appease him, but eventually forges a real relationship with the Native American kid Jacob Black. They decide to build motorcycles in what can only be a misguided attempt to get an unwatchable TV show on TLC and while riding, Bella realizes she's hearing voices. One voice to be precise and you'll never guess who!

She keeps hearing his voice, but at the same time she's getting really cozy with young Mr. Black who totally has wood for her. She wants him too, but resists out of some insane loyalty to the douchey vampire who abandoned her and left her life in shambles. He continues to make subtle advances towards her, but to no avail. He should have listened to more Leykis 101. If he had just stopped returning her calls, she would have been all over him.

Its round about here where I realize this book isn't nearly as painful as Twilight. Its certainly not good - I mean, it is just a dumb story about teenagers, but page after page isn't devoted to how awesomely exfoliated the vampires' skin is. Ms. Meyer can't leave well enough alone though and quickly brings the bloodsuckers back, which as you may have guessed causes the Native American kids to turn into werewolves. They try to hunt down a vampire who is after Bella, but she keeps doing dumb shit to hear Edward's voice. This time she jumps off a cliff into the sea. That water in Washington is too bloody cold. She's nuts.

Edward gets wind of this, assumes Bella is dead, and heads to Italy where he intends to commit suicide with the aid of the Volturi (old, possibly gay, Italian vampires with a penchant for talking with their hands and Fiats). How will he commit suicide? He's going to walk shirtless into the sunlight, so the Volturi will have to kill him. Oh shit...I should have said spoiler alert. It doesn't really matter though. One of the other Cullens takes Bella to Italy to prove to Edward she's alive. Bella, being a shallow whore, dumps poor Jacob Black like a sack of trash when she hears Edward is in need.

She gets there in time to stop Edward, but the Volturi are still pissed that they were going to be used as pawns in this crappy teenage love triangle. An entire chapter is used to build up suspense and then....and then!!!! And then, the Volturi let them go after they make Bella perform a few parlor tricks. Are you kidding me?

After that, its back to Washington with Edward safely in tow and Ms. Meyer starts devoting page after page to how beautiful he is. I want to scoop my eyes out at this point so I stop reading, but I can't, because quitters never win and winners never quit - or so Lou Holtz told me. They emote all over each other with tales of how their love will last forever. I start to really space out at this point, so I don't know how exactly it happened, but they went to the Cullens to vote on whether or not to turn her into a vampire. Bella successfully wins over Joe Lieberman to break the filibuster and they vote to change her, but not right away. Edward wants her to wait until they're married.

The book abruptly ends with Bella's dad imploring her to visit with Jacob Black, you remember, the guy she spent about two thirds of the book with. Edward won't have any of it though because of some treaty with the werewolves. Whatever.

I don't think I can bear another one of these. They're just so insufferable when the vampires are around. Ms. Meyer clearly needs to get laid more often so she actually tells a story instead of spending half her book idolizing a goofy looking vampire. For what its worth, New Moon is better than Twilight - much in the same way a kick in the ass is better than a kick in the balls.

American Idol Update: The Adam Lambert Single

The first single off Adam Lambert's debut CD is here, and for the life of me, I can't figure out if I like it or not. You can listen to it on lala.com.

He was so dreadful on American Idol, but that may just be because he was doing bad karaoke. Not every song calls for screaming after all. Is this song good and I'm just instinctively resisting it because of his crimes against humanity on Idol? Possibly. Skynet blogger Blue Napkins described it as "vapid", but that's never stopped me before. Inane pop music is my escape.

I may need to hear more from his new CD before I can rule. The CD cover is hilarious. It looks like Europe (the band, not the continent) had dirty sex with Cyndi Lauper. I'm going to have to get back to you on this one.