A Smashing Waste of Time

I cannot possibly be looking for sympathy. If you have something even slightly pressing to do right now, go do it. Because what I am about to complain about is not worth one speck of your attention.

But I am in a state of loss-confusion-quandary for the time spent watching…every-single-episode-of-Smash.

Okay, in the first season, I sort of enjoyed some episodes. There was an excitement.

But this second season. And then with the dead guy. And the tribute.  I hate tributes. Especially with golden flashbacks. All my flashbacks of dead people are in real color, the same as I am seeing right now.

And the sentiment! This is the problem with musicals. The horrendously cheesy sentiment. I love music. I like stories. I’ll watch a person dance for almost no reason. But the creamy honey sentiment? Who needs it? Real life is so much more interesting and so much more deeply felt than that. Sentiment is the complete lack of real feeling.

And yet, we watched and watched. I would say I am embarrassed and ashamed if I wasn’t so confused by my compulsion. Okay, I just admitted my compulsion and now, underneath, exposed—is my embarrassment and shame.

I will not take it on. I release it to the network-horror Gods who, in their smashing way, allowed it/mucked it/took hours of my life.

Three more episodes for us. And a correctly due cancellation. I do not like seeing people thrust out of their jobs. But in this case…I imagine them all moving onto better things.

Note: Cute people are not really suicidal. Nor do they care much about others.