Make My Season Finale with a Dash of Science

Students of literature are notorious for being picky about the kind of mental stimulation they open themselves to. Some only touch the great European classics; others won't be in the presence of a book that wasn't written by an African-American lesbian writer. Still others-- those of discriminating taste-- refuse to bask in the glow of the Devil's spawn.

That's right. Television.

Not that I follow that line of thinking. Like everything, television is a medium best used in moderation. And, depending how you use it, TV can impart some knowledge through such channels as The Learning Channel (when it's not showing fashion tips), The History Channel, The Travel Channel, The Discovery Channel, etc. etc. Seriously, who can bash television when you can watch Alton Brown explain the chemistry of cooking on Good Eats? I certainly can't.

Alas, I wish I could say that I was going to rave on about TV's educating aspects, but no. Instead, I'll be concentrating on... gasp... prime-time dramas.

More specifically, CSI:Las Vegas (none of this spin-off crap, I'm a purist).

I'll admit it: CSI can't be considered educational material. Those who are CSIs in real life rarely leave the lab. Tests that take minutes on the show can last for hours, even days, in real life and CSIs don't arrest people. But come now, admit it. This show stands way above the dross of the TV world: soap operas and after-school specials.

So, anyway, tonight was the season finale and the resolution of a pressing cliffhanger. One character, a particular favorite of mine due to his biting sense of humor, had been shot twice and was on the brink of death. On top of that, we had the reappearance of his crack whore daughter, a decapitated son of the South with a penchant for man-corsets, and a pre-diabetic determined to end it all with all the drugs, alcohol, prostitutes, and cake he could find. Finally, the show's avowed bachelor shows that he may be dappling with the fairer sex.

Ooooh, the drama! I love it!

See, CSI is the only show (besides those with, you know, real people) in which any character biting the dust makes me unhappy. The writers and actors on that show manage to make a lab full of science nerds exceptionally interesting. Luckily for me, it turns out that no one dies this season. No fake-mourning for fake-people! So now I'm looking forward to next season.

Here's where the problem comes in. This fall, the powers that be will move Grey's Anatomy up to Thursday at 9 PM, which will put it in direct competition with CSI. My future roommate is a Grey's devotee.

Oh uh, trouble in paradise.

So I now need to learn how to program my VCR. Or my roommate and I can institute a weekly brawl with the winner turning to the show of her choice.

I had better get working on that VCR.

K.