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The art and disgust of getting old.
#1
Oh yes!  Johnathon Creek... amazing series.. would take him home and shag him.  Over the past couple of years my dad would copy tapes from the library and give them to me.  J. Creek was the Magnum PI of sleuths.

I idolized him as only someone who loved shaggy haired sleuths with overweight seconds would.  The second was the lead, and he was the second that was brought in when she couldn't work out the storyline.  He was wonderful, and I couldn't wait to find out the next story.. or if they shagged.

Well... I skipped a beat.  I went from the second season (years ago, but I didn't realize), and I got the latest series from Lupus last week.

I finally started watching today.  It's series 5, not three.  The main woman who I loved has been replaced by his wife.  HIS WIFE!

She's a skinny bint who doesn't get it.  And he doesn't live in a lighthouse anymore.

He's now old and greying, not interested, and not worth watching.  ... And not worth shagging.  I'm soooooo disappointed.

Sigh.  The storylines are not like House, where you look for cues from his eyes and work it out... you see the cues and he doesn't notice, so it's not from his eyes anymore.   I means that I'm as old now as the character is.  I feel put-upon.

I guess it means that it's over.  The romance is gone, and the Alan David that I followed through Jonathan Creek and into QI is jaded and past it.

I'll be damned if that's me.  I'll keep the sense of wonder that he had and engendered in me until I'm over it, and I'll try and keep it alive in spite of him.

Maybe that's the meaning I'll take from this?  Magnum PI was cool, with a cool car and the mystery of Robin, but once the series is over, I'll keep going, and going, and going, and fuck the film industry.

I'll still be here.


The butler did it.
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