TV Jots

Highlights included (1) the noble, voluntary death of Tom Grace—apparently still grieving over his dead wife—in the subway tunnel after almost single-handedly saving hundreds of commuters; (2) Marshall sticking it to Sloane by showing he’s a lot tougher than people give him credit for, yanked fingernails be damned; (3) finding out that seemingly imperturbable ace butt-kicker Kelly Peyton is afraid of, heaven help her, snakes (who isn’t?); (4) Sydney finally fed up and blowing Sloane away after he shot her dad Jack, only for Sloane to come back alive and invincible thanks to Rambaldi fever, and then Jack blowing the cave to smithereens with both of them inside so that the only enjoyment it looks like Sloane will be having for eternity is the company of all those rocks and bugs—even the ghost of Nadia walked out on his sorry self; and (5) gleefully watching Mama Bristow, aka Irina Derevko to most folks, get a fitting comeuppance (or should I say downfall?) when she greedily chose to crawl after that little ball, aka The Horizon to Rambaldi freaks.

Among the lowlights were (1) stupid Rachel Gibson opening her front door without bothering to look through the big peephole right in front of her face (I hope government secret agents are only that dumb on TV); (2) cringing in brutal agony as Sydney once again naively whined and pined for her evil mother not to die (I guess some people will just never learn); and (3) suffering a teary-eyed headache when my beloved Jack got shot and then blew himself away to rid the world of psycho Sloane.

It’s over: no more Alias, and as of last Sunday night, no more Charmed. Who will girls look up to on TV now when they need a little bit of reassurance that they, too, can grow up to battle with the best of them, man or woman, and foil evil wherever it raises its ugly head? Charmed certainly may have been cheesy, but I still give it props for putting the strength and prowess of women front and center. Even petite Special Agent Dana Scully was my heroine on The X-Files for her willingness to throw down with anybody that dared to try and walk all over her. Ditto for Alias. Sydney Bristow, Irina Derevko, Anna Espinosa, Allison Doren, Nadia Santos, Renée Rienne, and Kelly Peyton—they were all “my girls,” no matter what side of the divide they fell on, and it was such a rush witnessing their boldness, ingenuity, and, yes, fighting skills as they kept pace with and often surpassed the (big) boys. Thank goodness then that Bones was renewed because it seems capable Dr. Temperance Brennan is just about all we women have got left in prime time to deliver the punches and kicks when the (bad) guys need to remember their place.