This one?
Not much of note today. I considered posting a list of things I hope to see on S5, but I soon realized that such a list is futile. The writers are determined to pander to teenies and disillusioned housewives desperate to live out fantasies of star-crossed true love. Hence, we're going to be subjected to another season of sudsy Danny/Lindsay angst. But wait! Like Emeril, they've added a dash of "essence" in the form of a possible Danny/Lindsay/Riki baby daddy triangle. Yeehaw.
Well, at least we know that Danny must have high scores at the gun range.
Look, I've nothing at all against indulging in angsty, soppy fantasies and playing "what-if?" I do it all the time with my fic and on the broad canvas of my imagination. Fantasy is good and healthy, and the desire to share those fantasies is what birthed Hollywood in the first place.
What bothers me about the ever-escalating Danny/Lindsay drama is that I've been duped. I was lured to the show with the promise that I would see hard-hitting drama and suspenseful crime-solving. And I got that. For a year. And then, like the date who's a marvelous kisser and groper but not so hot at much else, it all fell apart when they rounded third and headed for home. With the addition of Lindsay, it was suddenly all about her and her bottomless bag of Issues and not about the crime.
It was a blatant bait and switch. I signed up for CSI and got Melrose Place as performed by the Joe's Gas 'N' Go theatre troupe instead. Pam Veasey has promised year after year that things will improve, that Lindsay will finally blossom and come into her own. Well, she blossomed all right: into a giant incubator for instant Danny death.
I don't want to see Danny forever linked to her by a squalling, pooping bag of DNA. CSI:NY should not be Full House, where the awesomely cool Uncle Jesse was neutered by a wife and twins and morphed into a hot but boring Mr. Rogers. Nor do I want to sit through such riveting hijinks as Danny and the Diaper Bomb or Baby's First Checkup. I don't want to watch Lindsay browbeat him into being Dad of the Year because he had the misfortune to come at the wrong time. It's boring and banal and grossly unfair to Danny, who, before he was ensnared by Lindsay's Venomous Tentacula, was an interesting character. He was flawed, certainly, and often a thick-headed, paranoid idiot, but he was decent, and even if you thought he was wrong, you could believe that he was trying to do the right thing in the wrong way.
Now, he just looks like an obnoxious, opportunistic asshole, and if the rumors about Lindsay and Riki being pregnant at the same time are true, then he looks like an obnoxious, opportunistic, irresponsible asshole. Why? To create drama for the wet-pantied and sexually frustrated and to prop up a boring, blank viewer avatar with no depth or substance of her own.
Worse yet, I and other viewers are still being duped. Early spoilers indicated that TPTB intended to finally develop Lindsay on her own and give her interests other than Danny. Suddenly, though, we're back to the Danny drama, and thousands of fingers have slipped furtively into thousands of underpants.
Maybe plans got scuppered by Anna Belknap's new pregnancy, and if so, then I suppose some changes were inevitable. But why not just say Lindsay had a fling after she and Danny broke up, or better yet, hide the pregnancy by confining her to the lab? Or hey, maybe Anna might like a 9-month maternity leave. Say she's on loan to the Jersey crime lab. Anything but this ridiculous love child plot.
But Option 1 might make her look irresponsible, you say? Well, isn't that a pity? You have no compunction about making Danny into an irresponsible boor, but making Mary Sue Monroe into anything other than the saintly wounded dove of distilled innocence is dirtybadwrong? All right, then.
What I want for S5 is for the show not to suck like a galactic Hoover, but with Doublemint baby drama and the Black Sheep of Clan Flack on the horizon(and oh, how that reeks of Flack being tempted to compromise his integrity to bail out/cover for his ungrateful idiot of a younger sister), I'm not holding my breath.