That's right: I just paraphrased "the Governator" of California punning it up as Mr. Freeze in Batman & Robin, one of the worst films ever made. I had to; it just came to me. Oh, Mr. Freeze, your mangled pun so perfectly expresses the way I feel about the final(?) fate of the presumably late, relatively unlamented Stacy Morasco, also known in my household by her street name "That Bitch." There have been many funny deaths on soaps, but Stacy's just about did me in. A crowd of people are screaming at her to stop! halt! don't move! cease and desist! but Stacy just. keeps. coming. "What's wrong? My baby's right there! What are you talking about, everybody? Stop making sounds!" KLOMP KLOMP KLOMP across the ice. Then, suddenly, the entire treacherous plexiglass "ice floe" gives way and Stacy -- no Lillian Gish in Way Down East, she -- does a Wile E. Coyote hover-glide before plunging into the dark, dark water. I swear to God she had some serious, Looney Tunes-style hang time for a second there, floating in the air -- I was hoping she would really do it up right and hold up a tiny little sign reading something like "Thirteen weeks already??" That's right, homegirl, your cycle is up and my long national nightmare is over; get in that damn water. Glug glug.
Needless to say, I watched Stacy's fall over and over and over thanks to the miracle of Tivo. It just got better and better each time. I do not mourn for Ms. Morasco; nay, I revel in her untimely death. I do not feel for her struggle in the icy waters, because the truth is, Stacy approached surviving in that lake the same way she seemed to approach virtually everything in life other than occasional periods of her single-minded pursuit of Rex: with bored, unintelligent half-heartedness. "Oh, I have to tread water and breathe? Screw that, I'm outta here!" The reason Kim put together much of their pregnancy scheme is because Stacy was both too dumb and too lazy to take care of it herself. It came as no surprise to me that she couldn't even muster the energy to not drown; she's always been a lazy, whining sociopath. So goodbye, Stacy -- or are you really gone? If Stacy shows up in six months wearing Kim's phantom boots, I swear to God I will head uptown with a switch and a scowl. You heard me, Ron Carlivati. Stacy gets a potential out to survive death but Talia got the morgue treatment? Based on what popularity?
As to Kim, and all those drawn into Stacy's web of suck, here's a phrase I hate saying even once: Rex was right. I've never quite understood Kim's blind devotion to a girl who was clearly delusional and much less intelligent than her because the show has never clarified her character in that respect, but in any event, if she's sane, then Kim has to know she's wrong: Stacy would not have been a better match for Rex, because Rex didn't want her, and everything Gigi had gone through in the last year was because of Stacy (and later, Rex). Like Rex said, Stacy and Kim did treat their entire scheme cavalierly, and they didn't ever give a single thought as to what Rex wanted out of life. If Kim had come to town last August, seen Stacy's sorry state after the miscarriage, taken her aside and said, "Listen, girl, you're right, this is a sign that this guy is not worth it, let's move on," then in all likelihood Stacy would still be alive today. That would've been being a good friend -- I love Kim, but all she ever did for Stacy was enable her mental illness. Kim's fooling herself to blame anyone but Stacy and herself, and I hope we get to see her realize that, because the one area of this fierce bitch's character that I still don't understand is why she was into Stacy at all.
Meanwhile, back at Llanview Hospital, wow, has Schuyler really plummeted in my eyes. Way to wait until the last possible second to man up. I'm sure that scene will go well; good job picking the right moment to tell Gigi the truth, buddy. Speaking of waiting too long, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver; get over it and run the test. I'm loving Kyle as the snarky voice of reason in all this, and it's even better when Brett Claywell's Southern accent slips into the dialogue. He's come a long way from getting blown up by Alan Tudyk on Dollhouse. If Kish ends up sidelined in this upcoming paternity-custody brouhaha I will call serious foul, but so far I'm getting a real underdog vibe off the boys, like they'll sweep in and take Sierra Rose away from the squabbling hets at the last possible moment.
Cute little Sierra Rose (ain't she a surprisingly rhealthy-looking beauty) wasn't the only new patient admitted this week, though -- how could we forget Jessica, whose electroshock-gunshot wound-rape attempt trifecta has left her addled mind believing it is 1997. Ah, 1997: The year of Don Jeffcoat, seashell tea, and Wendi Mercury. I already think this story is almost totally stupid and ridiculous, but I will give it to Bree Williamson -- so far, she seems to be doing a credible job emulating Erin Torpey's teenaged Jess, right down to the feathery voice. I also hope this isn't going to be used as an opportunity to create some sort of "adolescent rebel Jessica," as Torpey's Jessica was the furthest thing from that and I'm so tired of the show badly rewriting history. I can't see an upside to this story right now, as it continues the caricaturization of Jessica into a total headcase incapable of a normal, adult storyline, but I do hope it will give Mark Lawson and Brody some great material -- his heartbreak is palpable, and I'm right there with him. I want them back together.
Truth be told, though, my major fear about Jessica heading back to 1997 is purely cosmetic. I remember how people dressed back then, specifically Jessica; it wasn't pretty. I also remember the music we all, unwisely, listened to, knowing not what we did: "Mambo No. 5." Smashmouth. Savage Garden. The Backstreet Boys. You get the drift. I don't need that back in my life. I don't need to see Jessica break out the Walkman to listen to Marcy Playground or 311, and I'd rather pierce my own eardrums than hear "Walking On The Sun" again. What's more, this is a "time travel" story back to age seventeen, which fails to feature Zac Efron (in various states of undress), Leslie Mann, or even Sterling Knight, and that, I say, is a cheap trick. But hey, I'll give it a chance for a couple weeks. Maybe going back in time is just what Jessica needs. At least it's not a story about mind control by microchip, Oakdale.
And then there was the Cramer family council. I love that Dorian's major gripe about Mitch's reign of terror was that she was forced to wear Viki's clothes. And I was glad that Blair and Cassie were more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt when they heard her explanation, as both women know Mitch all too well, but like Blair, I'm still infuriated by how Dorian used Charlie, who I fear will never get back in Viki's good graces. And what did I tell you? Dorian does conflate Charlie with Mel, and she said as much to his face this week in the police station. Whatever, Dorian. This mealymouthed begging for Viki and Charlie's forgiveness and friendship is beneath you, and you made a mistake; just admit it, and move forward. I'm still hoping Dorian and Viki will team up to take Mitch down themselves; there is no way a maximum-security prison will hold him or his followers.
As frustrating as it's been to watch all the other Cramers out of the loop on Mitch for weeks, it was very liberating to see Kelly (hi, Kelly! She looks great!), David, and Adriana being pro-active in Paris. Shame on Kelly for interrupting Adriana's "private time" with the nice Frenchman, though. Gina Tognoni's keeping her energy up, and seems to have retained the same whimsy she had on GL, as well as in her early years on OLTL; by the end of her last run in Llanview, I felt she'd grown humorless and cold, no fun to watch, but GL really reinvigorated the actress, and she continues to have that same bubbly spark, which is a real breath of fresh air. Can't wait for her to get to Llanview and mix it up with everyone, but what's this? Cassie! Don't drink that tea! You know better! Cassie and Laura Bonarrigo are longtime favorites of mine; if she is Mitch's target, I will weep buckets. Can't Mitch off someone inconsequential like Melinda? Think of the overall canvas, Mitch!
I really don't want to devote a whole paragraph to griping about the latest John McBain love triangle, but it looks like I will despite myself. Okay, first of all, it was horsepucky for Natalie to sit there and lie for John just because he couldn't be bothered to defend or explain himself or his actions. Marty walks in on John kissing his ex -- John stares blankly. Marty demands an explanation -- John stares blankly. Natalie tells John she still has residual feelings for him -- John stares blankly. UGH! I'm so over this; John never does anything but equivocate and remain ambiguous, an endless McHamlet, while the women in his life do all his work for him, even when he's in the wrong. How is this a hero I can root for? When he's not on a case, he can't choose between anyone or anything at any given moment. What he did this week with Marty and Natalie was callous and cowardly, and they're both worth so much more than him. Marty was awesome reading him the riot act, though -- I just wish she hadn't given it up.
And now, the miscellaneous file: Ford remains a major skeeze, gloating to Cristian about how he'll get Langston in the sack despite her playing "hard to get." At some point, Cris has to wonder why he is letting this douche live in their apartment. Shane, Bo, Nora, and Bree? Adorable. Bree doesn't have time for your mess, Llanviewites -- she's got coloring to do. Oh, and Blair SANG THE PEABO BRYSON THEME SONG OMG OMG OMG! That was incredible. Why is that song not back in the opening sequence? Will we ever see that ugly opening updated?
So that's the week that was: Stacy is still dead, New York is set to get yet more snow, of the real kind and not the Llanview tissue paper variety, and Jessica has a hankering for flannel and that all-new show Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Right-o, I'll see you kids in two weeks, but until then, I love you, and please remember, I'll give you tomorrow -- let me be the one you share it with. Or at least pass it to me when you're done with it. Cheapskate.
Michael
