Quick takes: I fail to see why random tweets confirm the Genoa story. The guy smelled crazy right through the television, and it’s not like it’s hard to make fake Twitter accounts, though after you’ve been at it a hundred days any sign of life might as well be God himself telling you the story’s true.
Called Nina sleeping with Will, because she seems to hate herself just that much. I occasionally find things Will says attractive. Jeff Daniels does zilch for me in the looks department. Nothing. Nada.
Reese Lansing is a prick’s prick, and he even looks like JJ from Sports Night, who was also a prick’s prick without anyone like Leona to rein him in.
CHARLIE. I cannot even. “We ride!”
SLOAN, also. “If you ever drag me by the hand through that newsroom again I’ll take out each one of your knuckles with a ball peen hammer.” I love her so much. I hope we get to see more of Zane because her interactions with him remind me of Don and Elliott, and Mack and Will.
And for all the haters complaining that only women are made to look foolish on this show, I give you Don Keefer, the worst handyman in the world.
Mack, tonight, was my fucking homegirl, with the $100 bill. She said at the outset of the show that Maggie was her from years ago, which makes me want to know who first gave Mack that $100 idea. I bet it was Charlie, or someone just like him. And she looked good, and played it just right with Neal, pushing and pushing and pushing until he was JUST about to break, and then giving him what he wanted.
And good on Neal for making the point I was screaming about last week, about how if all you can talk about is the punch line, you’re proving their point for them, and you only think it makes you cleverer than they are. You can tell any story about anything that you want, so stop blaming the story for your being stupid about it. We tell the stories we want to tell, no more, no less. Anybody who tells you different is not only kidding himself, he’s poisoning the well, and you should run as far away from him as you can.
Speaking of that, Jim on the bus. I’m sure plenty of self-righteous campaign-bus bitches tomorrow will be complaining that the show doesn’t understand how this kind of “reporting” works. Bullshit. The show understands it just fine, and thinks it fucking sucks. Jim isn’t grandstanding and he isn’t slumming and he isn’t being unprofessional. You could argue, and I would, that he shouldn’t be on the bus, but NOBODY SHOULD BE ON THE BUS.
Think about it. You wanna cover a campaign, the fuck you need the bus for anymore? You need the sandwiches? Motherfucker, call your readers, they will send you money for sandwiches. You follow that shit around like the Grateful Dead, scrounging couches to sleep on and doing your standups wherever and whenever, and you are beholden to NO ONE. If you get nothing out of it, why are you continuing to put something in? What possible purpose does it give you in life?
And so nobody else besides Hallie and the Sandwich Guy wanted to get off with Jim. So what? If you’re in this, you’re in it for the stories you want to tell, and what everybody else is doing can go fuck itself. That gets lonely, by the side of the road in the dark, but the warmth of the bus is not more important than your immortal soul, and we’ve been shouting about that in blogtopia for years, so here’s a hey-yo for finally seeing it on TV.
I hope that Hallie and Jim and What’s His Name the Sammich Thief form their own little news conglomerate, buy a beater car for $700 and have the time of their goddamn lives chasing the Romney campaign across America. That’s a news broadcast I’d interrupt dinner for, that there.
A.