Economics of mystery shows

Just so you all know, this is a rant. I want to distinguish it from my usual postings, which are typically ramblings verging on tirades. I'm starting to hate the fact that you can always tell who the criminal/saboteur/evil mastermind is the second they walk on-screen by seeing that they are a recognizable B list actor. Almost any mystery series or show of any kind that tries to hide the identity of the antagonist has this problem, but I'll use Law and Order as an example, since they are one of the worst. If I recognize someone that just walked on screen from their appearances in other television dramas, there's about a 97% chance that they are the killer/rapist/fraudster for the episode.

One exception is when they bring in a A list actor, in which case you can depend on them being the villain only in the second or third part of a multi-part episode. Occasionally, an A lister will be the villain in only a single episode, but they will be really really evil. Like when Law & Order SVU brought in Martin Short as an evil psychic - Evil, evil, evil.

It pretty much ruins the show for me when you know whodunit 10 seconds after the bad guy walks on screen. I understand that these are the actors that are making their bread and butter on these shows, and for it to be worthwhile for them, it has to be a larger part, not just the grieving widow or estranged scion. I say give them a large part, and choose the killer from the extras list every once in a while.

What's the net effect? Well, since everyone I recognize on these shows are the bad guys, I'm only truly comfortable in the company of strangers these days. It's not that I can't separate reality from fiction (OK, but you have to admit it really LOOKED like a giant walking killer ham.) it's that I'm being conditioned to see the familiar as threatening by these shows. For those of you that know me, I've got my eye on you. For all of you total strangers, the key to my knife collection is in the adckuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

My AMAZING ABILITY

Not many people know, but I have an amazing 6th sense, which I believe I inherited from my father. Some people make interesting claims about mind reading or telekinesis, but those are all pretty much old-hat as far as I'm concerned. I've talked to a lot of you out there, and believe me - I don't want to read your mind. Sheesh, half of the time I can barely bring myself to listen to what you are saying out loud (...blah blah speed limit blah blah blah flock of turkeys blah hazmat team blah blah...) it's always the same old stuff. However, back to my ability; I can predict the future - but only in a really specific way. I can almost always tell when something annoying is about to happen, especially if I'm the one that's going to cause it to happen.

Yup, I know - you're wondering why all of the national labs aren't knocking on my door, asking for permission to study this ability. No no no, when they come knocking it's always about the "seismographic disturbances" or the "folded space" problem in my back yard - never about the cool 6th sense thing.

I remember clearly seeing my father demonstrate this ability when I was a child. He was working on a car, trying to get a nut to break loose with a cresent wrench. Pull as hard as he might, the nut was not budging and then it happened. He muttered to himself "if I pull on that one more time, the wrench is going to slip off and hit me" he pulled, it hit. I watched him pull on the wrench for 20 minutes before he said those fateful words, then smack, wrench sandwich.

While my Dad never again used his power in front of me, I soon found that I had inherited the gift. While lifting my breakfast plate I might suddenly be possessed by the thought "That newly buttered toast is going to fall off of the plate and land butter-side down on my new suede shoes, forcing me to jerk my foot away, thus spilling the orange juice on my homework, causing the citric acid to lift the ink right off the page, leaving me with a title and a blank page that smells like Florida. 10 seconds later, I'd be planning to skip first period to re-write my treatise on the chilling effect of high school on developing intellects, part IX.

Now, I take it all in stride. Yesterday, I looked at my shoelaces and immediately mentally added 5 minutes onto my exit for work, just microseconds before the lace snapped in my hand. I look in my rear-view mirror and signal a lane change, not because I'm about to change lanes, but because I want the person in the lane next to me to speed up and get out of my blind spot. What I can't figure out is why I still pull on the wrench, even though I KNOW it's going cause swearing and consternation. I guess I can't change the future, just be pre-annoyed by it.

Gah, I'm going to hit publish and then decide it's not worth re-opening this post to correct the spelling errors.