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« The Most Shocking Shock Of All! | Main | One Good Thing About Wednesday »

July 13, 2011

The Hatred, It Burns

Normally, when General Hospital gives us an episode filled with storylines I have absolutely no emotional investment or any real interest in, I think to myself, "Oh, it's a day that ends in -y", because such episodes are an almost constant part of our lives. Never once did I think, "PRAISE BOB GUZA FOR THIS BLESSED GIFT" although it seems as though I SHOULD have because the alternative to an episode absolutely free of entertainment value is an episode filled with such appalling things that it seriously makes one contemplate taking hostages.

Today's episode, for example, was stacked with plotlines that don't bore me or make me merely roll an eye; no, today was all about plotlines that actually make me sputter with hatred.

Lulu and Dante's Bordello Adventures: The Worst.

First of all, doesn't Dante have a job?

Second of all, what is the purpose of this storyline? Is it "Well, we've got to tread some water for a while, plot-wise, until Anthony Geary is back and we do love us some sleaze..." or "What's better than a scantily clad women? A scantily clad women doing something sleazy while the threat of sexual violence looms" or some unholy combination of the two?

Michael's Sense of Entitlement Going Through The Roof: Worst...er.

Really, Michael? Making out with your girlfriend at work?

And then getting sassy with Tracy when she was understandably appalled and sickened?

Michael: Look, if I want to kiss my girlfriend in my office, that's my business, not yours. You need to respect my privacy.
Tracy: Really?
Michael: Really. Get out of my office.

This shows just how startlingly immature he really is, both for lashing out and refusing to admit that he was wrong and for thinking he was in the same league, attitude-wise, as Tracy Quartermaine. Although it's not totally his fault, when you consider who his parents are; their legacy seems to be poor impulse control and a distorted sense of self-worth.

Tracy, of course, was an acid-tongued delight.

Tracy: Give it a rest. She's a big girl. What is she, 35? And considering where she worked before, she's probably heard worse.


Spinelli: There are no words.

Spinelli: Now, don't be a bunny. Jackal P.I. walks a line. I don't take sides. But I'd be willing to make an exception in your case. Now, you might have the bulge right now, but I still got plenty of swift. Don't make me tighten the screws.

I...hate him.

I...am so repulsed by this story that I long for the days of Winifred (remember Winifred? And how awful she was? If you do remember, it's because the badness of that story is burned into your corneas; if you don't, it's because you repressed it and I apologize for dredging that up). The thought of Spinelli and Winifred in a frontburner love story filled with complicated nicknames and a tortured syntax is upsetting, yes, but also about a hundred times better than what we are watching right now.

I...wish I were dead.


Although, it has to be said: today was not completely without merit. It was just mostly without merit. The only saving grace were the beautifully acted moments in which Tracy confessed to Monica that Jake was Jason's biological son.

Amazing, right? Although it probably would have had more of an impact if it wasn't a secret that everyone in Port Charles knows...


I agree. I'm tired of Sam and her boring monotone voice. She's always in peril and following Jason around like a lost puppy.

I loved seeing interaction between Monica and Tracy, but that red dress was hideous. It looked like something costume dug up out of the basement from the early 80's. I swear Laura and Bobbie wore that dress once or twice! :)

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