Saturday, May 28, 2011

"Moving On" Commentary with "David Shore" & "Greg Yaitanes'

DAHLINGS -

With all of the tumult going on qua my last entry, I thought we could all do with some fun.
The Season Seven DVDs are shortly to be coming out. One of the much-awaited extras is the finale, "Moving On," with commentary by David Shore and Greg Yaitanes.

I must emphasize that I DID NOT WRITE THIS. It was written by my dear friend Nancy, and published with her permission. Again, I DID NOT WRITE THIS. So give Nancy the compliments, not moi. But I think it's tres amusant.

Title: "MOVING ON"; A DVD Extra Commentary fanfiction
Disclaimer: This is a fictional piece featuring a fictional executive producer David Shore and a fictional director Greg Yaitanes. Any resemblance to anyone real, or that we are familiar with, is completely coincidental. Much like House in the last episode.

Note: Italics show scene descriptions or spoken lines from the finale, "Moving On".

"MOVING ON"; A DVD Extra Commentary

House makes his way back to the car after seeing Cuddy having a nice time with a strange man, her sister and her sister's husband. He fingers the hairbrush as he climbs in.
Wilson: What just happened?
House; Get out.
Wilson: What just happened?
House: Get out.
Wilson: House, what are you mad about? Just let it out. You'll feel better.
Wilson gets out of the car.

David Shore (DS): That damn Wilson character annoys me with his constant caring and concern.
Greg Yaitanes (GY): Yeah well, can't have a tough brooding anti-hero without a goofy sidekick. Besides, Leonard fills up screen time.
DS: Who?
GY: Never mind.
DS: I think he should have kept Wilson in the car.
GY: But then he would have risked killing him.
DS: No one is going to get hurt. Just because it is a 1972 Dodge with no airbags doesn't mean anyone is at risk.

House drives down the street and begins to turn the car around

DS: Whatever happened to House's Corvette?
GY: Volger made him give it away.
DS: But House never listened to Volger.
GY: Want me to bring it back in Season 8? He could have it on the island.
DS: How will we explain it's sudden reappearance?
GY: We have to explain things?

House begins to pick up speed

GY: Awesome!! We're coming to my favorite part. He's gonna do it!!
DS: Of course he's going to do it. He's under contract.
GY: Too bad Lisa didn't renew.
DS: Who?
GY: You know, the chick with boobs.
DS: The model?
GY: Nah, the older one. The one in the house.
DS: Whatever, that was a Katie Jacobs' thing, not my vision. We don't really need any women on this show. Well, maybe one, but that always could be a hooker. Our female fans always enjoy women presented as nothing more than sexual fantasies.
GY: Or one night stands for Chase and Taub,
DS: I know, cool, huh?

House spins the car to the left onto the driveway and then the lawn, going at top speed. Wilson jumps out of the way.

DS: Now watch as our speeding hero instantly figures out the trajectory of the car, the layout of the house to be certain there are no support beams he might hit, positions the car to crash in a way that hurts neither himself nor anyone in the house and...assures that the car won't explode.
GY: And he does this all while high on a month's supply of Vicodin, consumed with rage, and while speeding as fast as he can go!
DS: That's why we call him a genius!
GY: How does he know that Rachel isn't in the house? Or one of Julie's little kids?
DS: Who's Julie?
GY: Cuddy's sister.
DS: I thought she was named Lucinda.
GY: I thought so too but the fans wrote to us to tell us no.
DS: We still have fans? I thought we got rid of those this season?
GY: I'm working on it, I'm working on it. These things take time, you know.
DS: Don't be so sensitive, Greg. Anyway, I don't know about any kids of Lucinda, er, Julie, but Rachel is at Arlene's house.
GY: Yeah, but how did House know that?
DS: Cuddy mentioned it in one of the sneak peaks. That's how he knew.
GY: House watches his own sneak peaks?
DS: Shut up and watch the crash.

Crash! Right into the dining room. The table is destroyed, a light falls from the ceiling. Car door opens with a concerted push.

GY: Kaboom!!!!!
DS: And look, he's not even wearing a seat belt. And yet he doesn't have so much as a scratch.
GY: Not to mention he checked himself out of the ICU that morning.
DS. I know. Is he is a cool super hero or what? Er, I mean anti hero.
GY: I guess you were right, House knew exactly what he was doing. No one was hurt.
DS: Exactly. House isn't a killer you know. He is just a boyfriend that is a bit upset. He needed to make Cuddy understand how he feels.
GY: Yeah, it is not like he could have talked to her like she wanted him to.
DS: Of course not, he is all about action, not words.
GY: Right. He had to show her that it isn't acceptable for her to carry on with her life and the life of her child when House is out there having to find comfort in the arms of multiple hookers and a green-card wife.
DS: Exactly my point.

House climbs around the car, and over glass and debris, to hand back Cuddy's hairbrush.

DS: See, he is willing to do whatever it takes to return Cuddy's hairbrush. He is a man of principle! There is a code he lives by, even if society doesn't always approve.
GY: Yeah, he is great guy. Especially the way he risks getting all cut up again after having done self surgery just last week. I wish I could be like him.
DS: Feel free to live vicariously through House. I do.
GY: Is the hairbrush symbolic of something?
DS: Nah, I was hoping that House could spank Cuddy with it when he returned it, but the actress wouldn't agree. She said she had enough of acting out my, er, I mean House's, sexual fantasies.
GY: I am sure our female fans will be bummed.

House hands the brush to Cuddy. Oddly, not one of the four people in the house attack him. He walks out and over to a goldfish faced Wilson.
House to Wilson: You were right, I feel much better.

DS: See, this was my vision all along.
GY: That House was a murderer?
DS; Possibly. But what I meant was that House is meant to be a lone hero, fighting for his liberation.
GY: Right. Liberation from Wilson and Cuddy - the ones who have been holding him back.
DS: What have they ever really done for him?
GY: Besides hire him when no one else would, protect his job from the board, give him a department of his own, be his friend, confidant, and conscience, take him to monster truck rallies, allow him to screw with their personal lives and ruin every other relationship they ever managed to have, allow him to try to prevent one of them from becoming a parent, lying for him to the police, lying for him on the stand under oath, allow him to live with them, help him to get into a mental health facility, hire him back even without a license and hold his job for him, care about him, worry about him and love him despite all his problems?
DS: Exactly my point, they did nothing for him.

House limps off down the street, all the way to either Hawaii, the Gulf Coast of lower Florida, Puerto Rico, Mexico or Southern California. Or possibly just the airport. Most likely though he heads into a black hole that transports him somewhere where it is still daytime despite the flight time and the movement of the sun.

DS: Well, finally House is free.
GY: No job, no home, no money, no friends and no family. Now that's freedom for you!
DS: God I love this show.
GY: Me too. We are the bomb. Kaboom!


Thank you, Nancy! And I do hope the rest of you enjoyed this as much as I did, yo.

Ciao,
Elisa

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Did The House Season 7 Finale Endorse Domestic Violence?

DAHLINGS -

Last night’s season finale of “House MD,” titled, “Moving On,” outraged me so that I feel compelled to write in my blog-thing.

Over seven seasons, Dr. Gregory House has done a lot of reckless, illegal and ethically questionable acts. But one thing he has never been is a domestic abuser and potential murderer. Until now.

The season finale, “Moving On,” besides being shabbily written—one could say that about most of the episodes—twisted the once brilliant, misanthropic genius into a brutal, abusive maniac. There is no kinder word for his behavior.

And his creator, David Shore, is defending that behavior.

House has certainly been verbally offensive over the years, acting out all of our fantasies of telling the people we hate to f-k off. However, incidents of physical violence have been few and far between. He punched Chase because House was detoxing from withdrawal. He had a fistfight with Alvie, his roommate, in “Broken,” the Season Six premiere. House provoked a patient’s father into punching him, giving him an excuse to push his cane against the man’s neck and thereby diagnose both the man and his dying son. Each act was considered extreme, to say the least, but NOTHING compared to the hideousness of last night.

A bit of background: House and Cuddy have had one of the most joyless romances in the history of television this season. When they finally broke up fans gave a universal sigh of relief. Most of the season played like an imitation of the once-brilliant “House, MD”. Shameless recycling of plots, patients of the week that one could not care less about, Masters, a spud-gun competition…the list goes on. However, the cast soldiered forth, trying to bring a spark of life to the ordure they were asked to shovel week after week.

But last night’s episode was simply unacceptable. Cuddy repeatedly asks House to tell her how he feels, that they need to have a conversation about their break-up. This might not be the smartest thing to do, and he refuses to talk to her.

Finally they sit down in the cafeteria, and when she tries to get him to open up, he walks out. She follows him, demanding he talk to her. He turns and pushes her violently against the wall, yelling, “You want to know how I FEEL?”

Bear in mind that House is approximately 6’3” and Lisa Cuddy is a slender 5’4”. She looks frightened, and rightfully so, but calms him enough to admit that he’s hurting. Like any abused wife, Cuddy forgives him.

Somehow isn’t this a tad reminiscent of a man beating his wife and then telling her, “Honey, I’m so sorry I did that, I love you so much”?

“Don’t worry, darling, it’s all my fault.”

Cuddy assures him she’s not dating anyone—why is it any of his business?

Then, in one of those turnarounds that only happen on television, she is set up with another man by her sister. House, in the meantime, is doing his best to numb his feelings with copious amounts of Vicodin. He remembers that Cuddy wants her hairbrush back. With his faithful sidekick Wilson, he drives to Cuddy’s house. He walks to the doorway. Only to see through the window that she is enjoying wine and cheese with her sister and two men, one of whom her sister set Cuddy up with.

Barging in and yelling would have been bad enough. Throwing things would have been bad enough. Threatening her life would have been bad enough.

But not enough for David Shore.

House gets into his car, pushes Wilson out of it, speeds away, and then a light bulb goes off in his head. With a squeal of tires, he turns and drives straight into her house, destroying much of it.

Creator David Shore said in an interview with Michael Ausiello early today:

DS: I’ve always thought House was capable of killing people close to him. [Laughs] That’s not to say he was ever going to do it, and I don’t think he would. And even in that moment, I don’t think he wanted to kill anybody. But who knows? Probably part of his mind did. It was a lashing out — a very extreme lashing out. I don’t think it was a murderous lashing out.

TVLINE But he could not have known that the dining room had cleared out.

DS: He saw them stepping out, didn’t he?

TVLINE I think they were mostly still around the table.

DS: They were standing up and she put his hand on [the new boyfriend's] arm, which was part of the whole thing that set him off. The car was aimed at the house, not at the individuals inside.

Source: http://www.tvline.com/2011/05/house-finale-post-mortem-season-7-spoilers/

If that isn’t the most cowardly, disingenuous explanation of House’s horrific behavior, I don’t know what is.

Cuddy’s three-year-old daughter Rachel might have been in there. He wouldn’t have seen her from the car. He could have killed or injured all four of them. House could have hit a retaining wall and brought a sizeable section of the house down onto the occupants. Cuddy and her guests could have been hurt by flying debris. The list goes on.

When an incident such as this happens in real life, it makes headlines on the local news. Do a web search for “vehicular manslaughter.”

Afterwards, House announces to his best friend, Wilson, that he feels much better, and is next seen sipping an umbrella drink on a tropical beach. David Shore has assured everyone that these events are not a hallucination, but real.

ETA: In the wake of universally bad reviews for this episode, the phrases "would-be assassin" and "attempted vehicular manslaughter" have come up repeatedly.

In another interview, this time with ew.com, Shore was asked:

I have to start off by asking, did House want to run over Cuddy and Co.?

DAVID SHORE: No. I think he was aiming at the house — not at the people. Obviously, he was taking a huge risk, but I don’t think he was trying to kill anyone off, but I think he was risking killing some people.

But this is David Shore’s world. It is a shame that such a brilliant mind would stoop to showing actions that will give defense lawyers ammunition for years to come. “Your honor, my client was aiming the frying pan at her collar, not her head.”

SHAME, for revealing just how misogynistic you are.
SHAME, for destroying a fascinating character by making him into a one-dimensional puppet.
SHAME, for reducing Cuddy to alternately a tear-stricken doormat or the Demanding Girlfriend from Hell.

And most of all:
SHAME, for implying that violence and destructive behavior are acceptable acts.

If you think I’m overreacting, your faithful correspondence doesn’t care.

Any more than David Shore does.

Ciao,
Elisa

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Guest Blogger: House's Leg Speaks Out!

DAHLINGS -

As you know, every now and again I let a guest blogger take the burden of writing this blog-thing out of my perfectly manicured hands. And as I am not remotely interested in writing anything about Pippa Middleton, it seemed the right time. I take no responsibilty for my guest's language.

Ciao, Elisa

**************************************************

HOW FUCKING COOL WAS LAST NIGHT’S EPISODE?

AND THE WEEK BEFORE THAT?

No, we’re not talking about the story, the angst, the script, whatever.



I GOT MAJOR MAJOR SCREEN TIME! OH, YEAH, BABY, THE LEG RULES! WOO-HOO!

Front and fucking CENTER, man, they showed my huge scar, showed that House ISN’T IN FUCKING PSYCHOSOMATIC PAIN—EAT TURDS, “CONVERSION DISORDER” FUCKTARDS! IT’S PAIN! SHOOTING, SCORCHING, PAIN! YOU CAN EAT MY ASS--wait, I don't have an ass, the ass lives above me--YOU CAN EAT MY KNEE!


For almost two seasons I’ve had to pretend the pain barely existed, that it wasn’t so bad. Do you have ANY IDEA what that is like? Huh? I wanted to BOOGIE when House started downing the Vicodin again But I couldn’t because I’m only one leg and he’d fall over and there’d be hell to pay.

As I once said:
IF YOU HAVE A HUGE PIECE OF MUSCLE AND BLOOD VESSELS AND FAT REMOVED, WOULDN’T YOU FEEL IT JUST A TAD?

Gotta admit, I was begging for a stunt leg during the episode where he’s working me out with the rubber band or whatever the fuck that thing was. Damn, I deserve an EMMY for those scenes! You don’t have to be a Method Actor, all you need is a GINORMOUS CHUNK CUT OUT OF YOUR THIGH!

The other leg bitched about how I was getting all of the good scenes, and I was like, “Look, jerk-off, they see you all the time. Let the limb have his moment, yo!” (Shit. Have to stop hanging around Greg Yaitanes.)

But if I had to endure screaming hideous pain BECAUSE I HAD A HUGE PIECE OF—oh, crap, there I go again, but I’m still pissed about it—it was worth it for these two episodes! Free at last, free at last, God almighty I’m free at last! Yeah, that fucking scar of mine is MAD HORRIFYING, isn’t it? BECAUSE THOSE ASSHOLES TOOK A HUGE—did I already say that?

Anyway, there was NO WAY they were going to cut me off, I was going to go kicking and screaming (well, not screaming, technically, because I don’t have a mouth) if they pulled that shit.

To squelch any rumors, I am signed for Season 8. With no fucking pay cut. Shit, I should get hazard pay just for walking around, because of the HUGE...oops.

I admit, those were some special effects when he was taking the tumors out of me. I have my limits. But I was too preoccupied with basking in the glow of STARDOM to care! Two whole episodes revolved around ME!

House’s leg! ME!

At the end of the day, it’s all about the work.

No, it isn't. It's about the close-ups. Suck me, Charlie Sheen.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

How Planned Parenthood Saved Me

DAHLINGS -

I do not dwell in the past, but the battles over the reproductive rights of women compell me to reveal a few pertinent facts. Planned Parenthood was the only resource when I was a young woman--a young, upper-middle class woman with a good education and family background--that helped women of every class and nationality, in confidence.

Today Planned Parenthood is so often presented (not always transparently) as a program that is targeted at minorities and encourages promiscuity.

THAT IS SO IDIOTIC THAT IT DEFIES BELIEF!

Ahem.

It is not a matter of pro-life/pro-choice, it is a matter of WOMAN CONTROLLING THEIR REPRODUCTIVE DESTINIES RATHER THAN THEIR REPRODUCTIVE SYSTEMS CONTROLLING THEM.

What, in God's name, is so hard to understand about that? Oh, pardonnez moi, 95% of the politicians voting to cut funding are male. It's not going to have an impact on their day to day lives. ONLY ALL OF THE WOMEN IN THEIR CONSTITUENCY!!!

As the Reverend Debra Haffner writes: "Access to maternal health care, contraception and family planning services can and should be available to all women, regardless of nationality, geography, economic status or other factors. "
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rev-debra-haffner/celebrate-mothers-locally_b_858048.html

I am not used to being outraged, dear readers, but this is simply too much to bear.

My story, in brief. When I was a young woman, I was extremely attractive to the opposite sex. (Thank goodness some things never change.) As my dear darling Mama had taught me, I was religious about birth control. I never, ever had unprotected sex.

At 21, I missed several periods. I was panicked. I couldn't tell anyone. I was afraid to tell my ob/gyn. Partly because I was 21 and things like this were not supposed to happen to me. Pregnancy happened to careless, low-class women. Never to me.

The only option was to go to the Planned Parenthood clinic in New York City, although I lived just outside the city at the time. I was examined, and the doctor told me the most beautiful words in the world:

"You;re not pregnant."

The burden fell off my shoulders, and I resumed my life, both practical and romantic. Again, I was religious about birth control. Perhaps my taste in partners was occasionally lacking, but not my protection of myself.

It happened again. This time with all of the symptoms that went along with being enciente. I was still young, unmarried, with absolutely no desire for children. What could have gone wrong? I was so careful!

Again, I sought out Planned Parenthood. Again, it was a false alarm.

Faithful readers, if an abortion had been called for either time, I would have had one in a heartbeat.

I was far too young, far too inexperienced, with no interest in having a child. I would have been a terrible mother. Je ne regrette rien.

It happened once again, in the weeks before my marriage. We knew we couldn't afford to have a baby. My fiance was in school. Abortion was our only option. We were devastated, but it would have been the only feasible choice. Again, Planned Parenthood. Again, a false alarm.

Years later I researched a novel (yes, your faithful correspondent has some skeletons in her past, including some unpublished novels) about a young woman whose father is an abortionist, circa 1916. The lack of women's choices in those days, both in love and in work, fascinated me. (Also I adored the clothes, a major component in writing an historical novel. At least for moi.)

For research, I went to the Planned Parenthood main office and archives. These were in the days before the loonies started destroying the material--although it had just started. Over the weeks I read dozens of articles, personal stories, medical journals, etc.

All described the horror of life before accessible birth control. Back alley abortions, suicide, women chained in unhappy marriages, women literally unable to STOP having children whether they wanted to or not. Millions of unwanted children raised by miserable or cold, uncaring mothers. Fathers trapped in jobs because they had so many mouths to feed.






"Down With The Abortion Clause"
Kathe Kollwitz,1924

THERE WAS NO CHOICE. AT ALL. UNLESS YOU WANTED TO RISK DEATH.

Or join a convent, but that seems a tad extreme, don't you think?

Some members of the government dream of going back to that happy time.

???

There is more to say upon the topic, but I shall save it for another entry. Dear readers, do not let the government slash Planned Parenthood funding. They help prevent more unwanted children coming into the world and women without the money or too frightened to get the help they need.
Ciao,

Elisa & Fletcher

P.S. I still use birth control religiously. And recommend that my readers do the same. Planned Parenthood is an excellent resource.

How Planned Parenthood Saved Me

DAHLINGS -

I do not dwell in the past, but the battles over the reproductive rights of women compell me to reveal a few pertinent facts. Planned Parenthood was the only resource when I was a young woman--a young, upper-middle class woman with a good education and family background--that helped women of every class and nationality, in confidence.




Today Planned Parenthood is so often presented (not always transparently) as a program that is targeted at minorities and encourages promiscuity.

THAT IS SO IDIOTIC THAT IT DEFIES BELIEF!

Ahem.




It is not a matter of pro-life/pro-choice, it is a matter of WOMAN CONTROLLING THEIR REPRODUCTIVE DESTINIES RATHER THAN THEIR REPRODUCTIVE SYSTEMS CONTROLLING THEM.

What, in God's name, is so hard to understand about that? Oh, pardonnez moi, 95% of the politicians voting to cut funding are male. It's not going to have an impact on their day to day lives. ONLY ALL OF THE WOMEN IN THEIR CONSTITUENCY!!!

I am not used to being outraged, dear readers, but this is simply too much to bear.

My story, in brief. When I was a young woman, I was extremely attractive to the opposite sex. (Thank goodness some things never change.) As my dear darling Mama had taught me, I was religious about birth control. I never, ever had unprotected sex.

At 21, I missed several periods. I was panicked. I couldn't tell anyone. I was afraid to tell my ob/gyn. Partly because I was 21 and things like this were not supposed to happen to me. Pregnancy happened to careless, low-class women. Never to me.

The only option was to go to the Planned Parenthood clinic in New York City, although I lived just outside the city at the time. I was examined, and the doctor told me the most beautiful words in the world:

"You;re not pregnant."

The burden fell off my shoulders, and I resumed my life, both practical and romantic. Again, I was religious about birth control. Perhaps my taste in partners was occasionally lacking, but not my protection of myself.

It happened again. This time with all of the symptoms that went along with being enciente. I was still young, unmarried, with absolutely no desire for children. What could have gone wrong? I was so careful!

Again, I sought out Planned Parenthood. Again, it was a false alarm.

Faithful readers, if an abortion had been called for either time, I would have had one in a heartbeat.

I was far too young, far too inexperienced, with no interest in having a child. I would have been a terrible mother. Je ne regrette rien.


It happened once again, in the weeks before my marriage. We knew we couldn't afford to have a baby. My fiance was in school. Abortion was our only option. We were devastated, but it would have been the only feasible choice. Again, Planned Parenthood. Again, a false alarm.

Cut to years later: I researched a novel (yes, your faithful correspondent has some skeletons in her past, including some unpublished novels) about a young woman whose father is an abortionist, circa 1916. The lack of women's choices in those days, both in love and in work, fascinated me. (Also I adored the clothes, a major component in writing an historical novel. At least for moi.)

For research, I went to the Planned Parenthood main office and archives. These were in the days before the loonies started destroying the material--although it had just started. Over the weeks I read dozens of articles, personal stories, medical journals, etc.

All described the horror of life before accessible birth control. Back alley abortions, suicide, women chained in unhappy marriages, women literally unable to STOP having children whether they wanted to or not. Millions of unwanted children raised by miserable or cold, uncaring mothers. Fathers trapped in jobs because they had so many mouths to feed.



"Down With The Abortion Clause"
Kathe Kollwitz,1924



THERE WAS NO CHOICE. AT ALL. UNLESS YOU WANTED TO RISK DEATH.





Or join a convent, but that seems a tad extreme, don't you think?





Some members of the government dream of going back to that happy time. ???





There is more to say upon the topic, but I shall save it for another entry. Dear readers, do not let the government slash Planned Parenthood funding. It does not remove the consequences of sex and leave the women free and clear. It prevents more unwanted children coming into the world and women without the money or too frightened to get the help they need.





Ciao,


Elisa & Fletcher

Saturday, May 07, 2011

Meet Fletcher

DAHLINGS -


Mes lecteurs chérie, meet Fletcher, the newest occupant of my fabulous Central Park West apartment. He is a miniature pinscher puppy, with impeccable bredding and a tendency to lick himself when important guests are around. The world is his toilet.





Fletcher is going to be a sizeable small dog, as evidenced by his large front paws. He uses them like paddles, particular when the maid gives him access to my boudior in the morning. I wake to the sensation of paws slapping my face in greeting. Not quite what I would wish for, but he is so adorable that I forgive him.


The loss of Bucky still gnaws at my heart, and when Fletcher came into my home a month ago, I wondered if I could bond with this flailing black and tan puppy. Fortunately, his personality and appearance is quite different from my late darling's. If one had to choose a descriptive word for Fletcher's personality, the word "goofy" comes to mind. I find myself succumbing to his charm.


Il faut être prudent éviter de marcher dans des tas de merde de chien. As cleaning up his messes is the maid's job, I care not where Fletcher relieves himself. As long as it is not one of the rooms that I myself use. The kitchen, pantry, and the servants' quarters are all fair game. I've heard the maid muttering in Spanish as she walks past me, carrying paper towels and something called 'Nature's Miracle'.


Fletcher is not an aggressive dog. Not to worry, I'll have a trainer up here to teach him to bite people without warning in no time.


Ciao,


Elisa

This Week In Bad Fashion

DAHLINGS -




I have not been attending to this blog-thing as I should. But with the bedbugs, moving to the Waldorf,