My beloved television programs are very close to coming back and filling my eyeballs with the sights and my earholes with sounds of the world beyond my computer box-o-machine. Until they do, you can whet your appetite by watching “webisodes” (a word so awful, I’m stabbing myself for typing it) of The Office, featuring the accountants Angela, Kevin, and Oscar.
Summer television had its moments. For instance, I learned I could hate a regular ex-junkie as much as an ex-junkie who became President. But this season’s Project Runway is incredibly lame, with the producers’ influence on the outcomes more obvious than ever. Alison and Malan should still be there. Santino was someone everyone loved to hate, but Jeffrey is just an asshole. Fuck that guy and his neck tattoos. I hope he falls off the wagon and injects himself with a syringe filled with superAIDS.
Lost better not pull an X-files and become completely ridiculous. I need answers, and a more detailed map.
And it’s just sinking in that Arrested Development has ceased to be. Fuck everyone who likes The War at Home.