Happy fucking new year, I’m back in the year 2010. I stayed at home fighting a cold this NYE and wasn’t disappointed from missing my usual party. My best friend’s mom is fucking an OG Blood and turned into a 14-year-old, missing bill payments, spending her paycheck at Atlantic City, letting the house fall apart, getting piss drunk nightly, and throwing her daughter out so she and her new “boo” (ghetto baby talk pet names for losers, I assume) can ass fuck the night away… Until Kaye finally called the disgusting bastard out, tossed her mom’s liquor, and forced her to stay home to AT LEAST sort out the financial chaos. Well the woman had some sense knocked into her and has let Kaye take the helm financially. Kaye is still moving out- but her boyfriend got laid off for the time being so their move will have to wait for a bit. But the gangbanging loser is staying, and has his name on the car insurance and access to the bank accounts- all that after doing 7 years in Rikers for murder.
This is what happens to you when you get knocked up at 16, and it fucks with your head 30 years later.
Oh yeah, now onto my rant- I FUCKING HATE CSI!!!
I don’t know how for the life of me this franchise has been able to sustain itself for nearly 10 years. I saw most of the first series’ first episode and was sickened. None of these characters were likable or relatable, and the settings and scenarios were far-fetched. You can’t seat ANY of the investigative techniques or criminal motives in reality. In the good old days of cop and law drama forensics was limited to the coroner’s office- the morgue. On a wall in a tiled room of the hospital’s basement were steel doors housing dozens of corpses, and on the cold metal slab was the sheeted naked remains of douchebag A that bit it before the opening credits. Before NYPD Blue, prime time TV censors would only allow a head-and-shoulders shot of the corpse, now the Y-incisioned hollowed out plastic dummy, complete with gelatin-filled silicon organs and gallons of fake blood give street cred to the visual effects crew who probably don’t have a union to fall back on.
The good doctor surrounded by beakers, test tubes, files, and the odd computer would either be an eccentric nut eating KFC over the bit of liver he was excising for a toxicology report, or a cute wise-cracking female fighting her crush on the hottie gold shield leading man. Either way, the drama was spot-on and the show was exciting. Of course by that I mean Hill Street Blues, the early NYPD Blue, Forever Knight, Quincy, MD, TJ Hooker, and Hawaii 5-0, just to be a name-dropping bitch. Oh, and Columbo had its moments as well. My point is, you don’t have to be bombarding your audience with so much technobabble that you end up turning them into living room pseudo-crime solvers. Unfortunately Zuiker and Bruckheimer’s baby has turned into a monster that has resulted in jury pool questionnaires being rewritten to include whether potential jurors are fans of CSI. The last time I believed that a fictional TV drama was real, I was maybe 6 or 7-years-old.
Criminology (or forensic science) isn’t something you pick up in a workbook or a three-month college course. You are usually in university for about 10 years- and that depends on your field. If you go the way of the ME, you graduate from uni in pre-med with a minor in criminology, and then it’s off to med school where you pick up your trade of dealing with the dead, and to figure out how they got that way. If you like law enforcement, you need at least 2 years in uni for political science, criminal law, criminology, sciences, and etc. before you head off to the police academy. And if you can’t cut the physical stuff, you can always be a straight-up lab rat. So you’d better be good at math and science staring from memorizing the multiplication tables and building your science fair volcano with vinegar and baking soda lava. Oh yeah and you also need to be licensed by the state, so after all those degrees that added a few more decades on your parents’ mortgage, prepare for a rigorous licensing examination. No license, no big case, no posing, no leaning, no drooling over your hottie co-worker/partner. Get it? Got it? Good.
Now let’s get to characters. All good writers (novelists and screenwriters) will eventually plagiarize themselves. Zuiker has created carbon-copy characters for all the CSI series:
1) The genius, anti-social, asexual, enigmatic broody leader (Grissom is the worst- but this is the actor’s real-life personae. Caine is red-haired, leans, and speaks with long pauses after every third word. I’m done. Taylor, a Chicagoan Gulf War vet who lost his wife/meaning of life on 9/11 and plays a mean saxophone. Both Sinise and his character are very Midwestern, that attitude doesn’t work in here NYC. And what Midwesterner doesn’t like hockey?!!! Langston who is a former MD is just trying too damn hard with the CSIs.).
2)The attention-whore cougar with an extraordinary talent that tries to balance out (or poorly deflect) her tight wardrobe (Willows was a stripper married to a wannabe gangster, but the prize goes to Bonasera an orphan gun-lover who is such a Greek diva that she makes Nia Vardalos look tame- but that’s who Kanakaredes really is).
3) The leader’s foil and whipping boy, a young, cute testosterone-pumped jerk learns to be human when their unrequited “true love” repeatedly rejects them (the saddest is Stokes because that’s what Eads like in real life, but Delko and Duquesne semi-hooked up, and Monroe and Messer get hitched after she spawns baby Lucy).
4)The token black/minority (Warrick angsty black dude with a chip on his shoulder that guilt trips over escaping the ghetto- goes right according to script. Delko is Cuban-Russian- YEAH RIGHT! Simmons, the new guy nobody gives a shit about… An art theft expert? Boa Vista luscious Latina we rarely see, but she probably dances better than a Fly Girl. Hawkes, the black Doogie Howser… I have nothing to say, the description speaks for itself.
5) The female eye-candy with emotional baggage (Sidle was wet for Grissom’s lard ass from the get-go making her Elektra complex louder than anything flashing its tits on the Vegas Strip. Simms is new so I don’t know much about her aside from her unbelievable scifi fetish. Duquesne is a scatterbrained blonde Southern Belle with a drunk rich daddy that everybody but Caine crushes on. Salas, a hot Latina and ex-SIL of Caine that’s hot for him but knows it’s a waste, yet still continues to pine. Monroe the perky, wide-eyed Montanan who was afraid of everything- especially Messer. “Like ZOMG! Likes, Danny Messer likes me! A real Italian Stallion! This makes up for every high school dance I never went to! In fact it’s better than that jerk football player I gave it up to in return for doing all his homework in the back of Pa’s station wagon! Those muscles… tattoos… the Staten Island accent… spiky hair, and glasses just like Harry Potter! But wait- he’s a player! He’ll hurt my delicate American West feelings- WAAAAHHHHH!!!! But the fear- the fear is such a turn-on!” SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!!!)
6) Junior with issue of the day which may or may not incapacitate them (Sanders the prodigy and former flatfoot turned wannabe hipster determined not to get beaten up by the jocks and hiding his Eagle Scout badge who was raised by an Aunt Josephine clone. Wolfe the OCD geneticist who has a thing for cougars- in real life he would’ve NEVER gotten past the psychological for any PD, OCD is a real fucker and if you don’t believe me look up Howie Mandel. Ross- also an OCD- his dad was an abusive bastard, and cries when kids and puppies get smacked around. He’s also a Guitar Hero freak and would probably love to abandon reality- because girls make him feel funny- to live an MMORPG).
7) The eccentric ME or character in related occupation (Robbins has prosthetic legs, loves macchiatos, is rat phobic, and keeps a photo album of autopsied celebrities. Loquacious Hodges has a super sense of smell and nobody can stand him save for Simms who I suspect is a closet masochist. Super Dave is Robbins’ emotionally static assistant that has a wife who gets her jollies hearing all the grotesque details from her hubby’s day. Woods Speaks to the corpses during the autopsy. Hammerback will not only bend your ear off he will give you his outlook on threeways and necrophilia as well having a curiosity of tasting hydrofluoric acid and to do an autopsy on himself).
7) The hard-bitten, jaded cop who’s smarter than he dresses (“Science, schmience! See this gold shield? See that PBA sticker? I get to bust heads legally and look cool doing it! So why don’t you nerds go fuck off back to the computer clubs you crawled from?” Capt. Brass, a New Jerseyite and Irish as they come. Like Taylor, he was also a Marine, so his stick-in-the-mud personae doubles as the stick up his ass. Brass rooted out corruption in his NJ precinct, so he probably has more contracts out on him than Serpico. He ran the CSI department but was so old-skool that he didn’t buy into arresting perps with microscopes and black lights. Sgt. Tripp, a Texas-born Oklahoman who respects the CSI team and has extensive knowledge on forensic procedures. Currently under suspicion of being gay. No comment. Det. Flack, a Queens native with an embarrassing accent, second-gen cop, didn’t go to college [but is pretty sharp and enjoys fine wine], has lousy taste in ties, is allergic to cats, worships the Rangers, plays b-ball with BFF Messer, and has a repertoire of snappy come-backs and come-ons. This proud Irishman showed off his Italian side when he went shirtless after being seriously injured in an explosion. Being the male eye candy of this show was the perfect role for Eddie Cahill since his last role was in Disney’s Miracle portraying the golden goalie himself, Jim Craig. I’m not saying he’s a bad actor, but he’s probably best known as Friends Jennifer Aniston’s dumb as a doornail toyboy/PA Tag Jones and a stint on Sex And The City making metrosexuality look plausible. I’d like to see Cahill do theater, preferably a comedic drama. I think that would exhibit more dimensions to his personality, because playing the part of a detective with an unnecessary exaggerated New Yawk drawl makes him look, well, thick. Italian-Irish Cahill is a native New Yorker from fucking Westchester, but because he’s hot I’ll forgive him for it. But unlike Cahill his co-star Carmine Giovinazzo who is also a real New Yorker doesn’t do anything with his accent. He doesn’t have to, he’s a genuine Staten Island ginzo! How more real can you get? Cahill also has recently married, she’s a 40-year-old Italian-Albanian former model [he will be 32 in a week or so] that he’s been fucking since ’03. My guess is that she was bitching to him about getting older without the ring, so he caved. Now I’ve seen a couple of pics of this chick, and while she’s blonde and skinny, she ain’t exactly what we would define as “cute”. Cahill is a serious mama’s boy, and just not because he’s the only boy and middle child of three. I mean what the fuck do you have in common with someone that’s EIGHT FUCKING YEARS OLDER THAN YOU?! And that’s a question I pose seriously to everybody- guy or girl, gay and straight. Cahill isn’t what I’d call sophisticated, just because he’s partied in Europe and plays the boring rich man’s sport [a.k.a. golf], doesn’t neutralize his working-class background. I will point to 3 interviews as exhibits A, B, and C [all of which can be found on YouTube]. Exhibit A: his first interview in ’01 at the conclusion of the Tag Jones arc, he’s successfully concealed his New York accent passing off as some Ambercrappy and Bitch fucker preppie. Exhibit B: on the From Hockey to Hollywood extra in your Miracle SE disc 2 Cahill’s interview on portraying one of his childhood heroes- to which he bears a certain resemblance to- took place around ’03 at the conclusion of principal photography his accent is back full-force, his vocal pitch is roughened, and he’s very laid-back seemingly star-struck himself. In other words, real. Given that he was in costume so the shoot was long and he was tired, he’s also a smoker [not sexy Eddie!], Craig was probably on-set at the time, and he struck up a close friendship with the director and fellow New Yorker (and MOI fan) Gavin O’Connor. He didn’t have to act like Mr. Hollywood. He also couldn’t considering his fellow teammates were real hockey players- excluding Kenneth Mitchell and Nathan West who both act and play hockey. Living 3 months in Vancouver with guys that live rough and telling stories about hanging with Schwim and partying with people they only see on ET wouldn’t be appropriate. Exhibit C: The dumbass CSI: NY PC game. He provided the voice acting for Flack and gave an interview during the recording, I’d say late ’08. He made the transition to fakeness with the ease of Jim Craig facing a Soviet power play. Although you can see his real personae try to reinsert itself, but I guess he likes the fun, sun, and freaky-looking models too much. If I were him I’d get a clause in his contract to do something with that George Clooney wannabe haircut they gave him. It makes him look ridiculous and the fact that he’s prematurely graying doesn’t make it any better).
Well I’m going to wrap up this rant, my back is killing me (not that the malt balls I ate make shit better) and I just DLed The Who’s Tommy and would like to see it. If Bruckheimer and Zuiker’s intent was to create a CBS franchise not to legitimately compete with NBC’s nearly 20-year Law & Order legal drama set, but for ulterior motives, I think I’ll let the DVDs, series companion books, novels, comics, games, mousepads, mugs, T-shirts, pens, calendars, cast photos, GM vehicles, AND MANGA speak for itself.