'TIS HALF THE SEASON:

Unlike you, TV shows like it when I watch.

Probably not news to any who have been here before that I'm a big fan of science fiction in all its many forms. Television shows, movies, comic books and novels, I love it all, even sci-fi hip-hop. Oh it's out there. It's not all that popular… and it's not all that good either… but it's out there. So with all that going for me — or more to the point, against me — we'll just go ahead and use the word geek. It's fine, you can say it, I'm a big boy, I can take it. Heard it most of my life and I'm pretty much used to it by now. And sometimes I can even pretend it doesn't hurt. Sometimes… but not always. Why do some people have to be so mean? (Sniff… sob… whimper.) 

NO! I will not cry anymore! I am stronger now and this is not a playground full of hateful kids with hurtful words! That was last year and Dr. Shriver says I should be ready to face them again in about five or six more sessions! I'M A BIG BOY AND I CONTROL MY OWN BLADDER NOW!

Behold the cherubic faces of my tormentors. Vicious little bastards.

But getting back to me — after that little detour into me — there's something kinda bugging me this week. I know, right! I usually seem so easygoing, so happy and carefree. And that's true, I am that way most of the time… when I'm asleep. The other thirty percent of the time I'm unfortunately susceptible to the world and all it's unbelievably stupid ways. So what's the burr up my ass this week? What's got me here bitching to you for free instead of going to Dr. Shriver at $125 an hour? And more importantly, couldn't I have thought of a more pleasant metaphor than the burr thing? Well I couldn't, so deal with the visual and know that the concept of mid-season finales is indeed that burr. Yes, that's what Ronny's on about at this time, mid-season finales. Seriously, that's the rant. Is it sexy? No. But not counting the burr in my ass thing, has anything I've ever posted here been sexy? No, but I'll try to keep it interesting so go along with me on this. Not like you've got anything better to do. 

Oh, you do? Well can't you stick around for a couple more minutes? Please? I'll try to make it worth your while with a little bit of… HEY LOOK THERE!

That's right… using puppies and kittens to win your love. I have no shame. 

Great, you're on board. So as I was saying, I got a few choice words about mid-season finales. Words like: "Wait! Huh? What? Seriously?" And my personal favorite: "… the fuck?" Okay, that last one is more of a sentence fragment, but it fits the mood here since shows that engage in this heinous practice are just serving up fragmented entertainment, so it works in that respect. Now as I mentioned at the beginning of all this, I'm a big sci-fi… (sighs) geek and there were two shows in particular that set me off on the dark and sad path that I currently find myself walking… alone, as usual. (Why will no one watch TV with Ronny?) Anyway, British sci-fi staple Doctor Who had its fall finale this past Saturday after a brisk run of five episodes (?) and the Syfy Channel (Dumbest network name ever.) brought Warehouse 13 to a close on Monday night.

Now I don't have that much of a problem with Warehouse 13 going on hiatus until 2013 because they actually kicked out about ten episodes before shutting down production. But Doctor Who… five episodes? REALLY? When you consider that the hype for this season began back in the summer, the flood of promos and viral marketing dropped in July and built up all the way to the September 1st premier and… REALLY? All totaled I think the promos themselves added up to more screen time than the actual episodes got.

"Back in my day…!" 

Okay, that's really all the grumpy old man routine that I have the energy for today. But the sentiment is still there. Growing up, when I was just a young lad with hopes and dreams that were still alive and well and seemed like they would never die… Sorry, suddenly I'm depressed. What the hell happened to that idealistic young fool? He was so full of light and promise. Where did it all go so wrong for him? Did his dreams die slowly or did they at least have the good fortune to go quickly and painlessly? And when did crying in the shower become part of his morning routine?

Man, I hope Dr. Shriver has an opening this week.

At any rate, back when the phrase couch potato only referred to that week-old French fry you found under the sofa and forced your little brother to eat as a way of entertaining you and your friends on a rainy day (Good times.) television was a very different entity than what it is today. When our evening entertainment was still the purview of the big three (AND ONLY THREE) networks, the formula was simple, shows ran anywhere from twenty-two to twenty-six episodes between the months of September and May. After that you went outside for the whole summer, occasionally returning to the couch to catch reruns of any episodes you might have missed the first time around.

"For the last time, we didn't have DVRs back then! And if you ask me again,
I'm gonna send you to Hell so you can pester your Grandma about it."

I know what you're thinking and in answer to your question: yes, I took my medication today. And no, I have not been exposing myself to my neighbor's parrots again… unless they ask me to. Because it's not weird when talking animals ask to see it, it's consensual. I know the law. You're probably also thinking: "It's just television, Ron. What's the big deal? Get over it! Quit being such a bitch and read a damn book already!" Trust me, I'm on the same page with you there. It IS just television. And to be completely honest, both Warehouse 13 and Doctor Who were really kinda phoning it in this year. Neither was as good as they'd been in previous seasons and in both cases I probably won't bother picking them up when they return in the new year. (Yes I will. I am such a sci-fi whore.) 

As petty as it may seem I think what I'm really having problems with is the term 'Mid-Season Finale'. Because cable shows have been doing this for a couple years now and just last season when The Walking Dead did it they just billed it as: "The last new episode this year." Simple, direct, to the point and not some bullshit label thought up by some middle-management cock-smoker trying to justify his existence by coming up with bullshit labels for things. 

"See here, instead of cock-smoking we'll call it an Executive Training Exercise
and then it doesn't sound as bad. Now get down on your knees, Harris."

I mean what's next? What other truncated functions can we rechristen in this new paradigm? And did I use the word paradigm correctly? It was literally my first time using it in a sentence. (MAZEL-TOV TO ME!)

"What… premature ejaculation? No honey, that was… the mid-coitus finale."

Mid-coitus finale? You know, that's not too stupid. I might just… um… suggest it to a friend of mine because he… sometimes… has problems with… but not me. Because I never… well that is… LOOK THERE!

Puppies and kittens… works every time.