as per george lucas, disappointment and lazy writing come in threes; or, why last night's television can go to hell

I. Despair

Last night the Canadian Olympic hockey team lost in the quarter-finals. Now, this might not seem like a big deal to most people, but most people aren't the lone American offshoot of an otherwise rabidly Canadian family.

My father - a man who, as far as I know, has never once in his entire life shed a single tear, and if he has it was probably strategic - sent me the following email:

Hey kid,

Much sadness in Mudville.

Be happy,
Dad

Let me put this in a way that Americans can understand. Imagine how you would feel if Sasha Cohen were to self-destruct so spectacularly that she ruined not only her own chances at Olympic Gold, but also those of the entire country.

In perpetuity.

Basically, the entire population of Canada just got kicked in the puppy. I hope you're happy, Russia.

II. Dismay

Me: We'd better get some goddamn answers on Lost tonight or I am going to fucking track down the showrunners and knee-cap them.
Leigh: Lost isn't new.
Me: What? WHAT?
Leigh: At least that's what my TiVo says.
Me: That's not what my ... well, fuck. Now I'm definitely knee-capping them.

III. Disbelief

For the love of God, why:












Was it a conditioning problem? A bang issue? What, were you just too beautiful before? Well, I hope you're proud of yourself, Daniel V. You've just deprived the world of one of its greatest heads of hair. I'm afraid I now have no choice but to back Santino. (More)