the smell of my desperation has become a stench

There is hope for television yet

My next piece about Friday Night Lights is up at Alpha Mom:

Every Fall when the new television season is rolled out, I invariably become emotionally involved in those series which are yanked by their networks after only a few episodes. I have an uncanny ability to pick the losers, probably due to the fact that I am drawn to bad television like a roving wolf to a rotting carcass, the smell of dead flesh too irresistible to ignore. Last season it was a show about a species of alien lizards poised to take over the world, our only hope being the intelligent, witty maneuvers of a large-breasted scientist who spent much of the series running around in a wet t-shirt. That one lasted 15 episodes, and although I didn’t see the ending I’m hoping that the buxom scientist saved the world with a computer hard drive as her dripping, tousled hair draped over her heaving, impenetrable chest. Up and down. Up and down.

Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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