Scanning around through the reviews of last night's new episode of Veronica Mars was a rough business this morning - everbody seemed terribly unpleased. Over at Television Without Pity they were especially harsh and said, regarding the episode's single-mystery:
"How bad does a storyline have to get to earn the mantle of Poor Man's Crash?"
My eyes! My eyes! Did someone just compare Veronica Mars, still one of the smartest shows on TV, to Paul Haggis' Oscar-winning cinematic abortion? Say it ain't so!
Tis so, apparently. But confession-time: I may be blinded to the show's ocassional weaknesses by my confusingly heterosexual-tinged love affair with Kristen Bell, and by the switch that's been flicked in my brain by the show's murky future, so that I just lap every moment up as if I'm a dying man in the desert who's stumbled upon a puddle of camel spit. All this could be true. But I really wasn't feeling beaten about the head by PC-obviousness like the reviewers have claimed; I was too busy being charmed by Miss Bell and the story's typically Mars-ian weaving-everywhere plot.
And then there's the other plotline, in which I'm feeling terribly lonely in dancing with glee upon its occurance: Piz-kiss! As I've expressed before, Logan's fine as V's verbal-sparring partner but I really dislike the two of them dating, and I adore Piz, and he adores Veronica (as any sane person should), and their kiss is all that is good and right in this world. So there, haters.