Vulture - Devouring Culture

1. Vanderpumps. Dawn. Lisa reminds the houseguest of his lot in life. Lisa: You remember Cedric, my permanent houseguest? Yes, we’ve let the situation get out of hand. No, I have no idea how to rectify it. He works for us, right? And now he also lives with us. I guess eventually he’ll move out. He wants to get married and have kids and be a housewife. He wants to be me, in other words. Should I worry that he’s wormed himself into my life? Will I wake up one day to the sight of a hot Frenchman in an off-the-shoulder fuchsia gown hovering over me, cleaver aloft? Will my husband be able to tell us apart once we're chopped up in the freezer in the basement? I mean, his mind is not what it was — and it wasn’t much to begin with.

Two weeks after igniting what had to have been the most productive and civil comment war in modern Internet history, we are back from a nasty 24-hour case of Octopus Loss to tackle a very special, very different episode of Community. After front-loading the season with a number of divisive meta-stunts (well, divisive in the sense that they divided Vulture’s opinion from literally everyone else’s), Dan Harmon & Co. finally pump the brakes with “Cooperative Calligraphy” and tackle the serious question: Do wiener dogs begin that way? Or are they born normal and get wiener?

Last night’s episode definitely wanted for more Scranton Strangler. First introduced in the headline of the paper Andy bought to commemorate the day of Pam’s giving birth, the local criminal was finally apprehended, which had the office glued to the television. “Some events are so historic that you have to stop everything to watch,” explained Jim. “Balloon boy. Michael Jackson’s funeral. Things that if you didn’t see them live you wouldn’t really care that you didn’t see them at all.” Right, because who could forget Balloon Boy? Probably everyone. But, at the time, that news story seemed to spring fully formed from the dreams of people stuck in jobs that didn’t demand 100 percent of their time and attention. So we wish the strangler plotline wasn’t abandoned after this solid opening. It certainly had potential.

According to a study by media-research firm Experian Simmons that came out this week, self-indentifying Republicans tend to favor front-running TV shows such as The Amazing Race, American Idol, and The Big Bang Theory, while Democrats prefer acclaimed but ratings-challenged underdogs like Mad Men and … 30 Rock. And while there’s little question which side of that divide claims Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin as its own, their show employs a surprising degree of nuance when it tangles with politics. Sure, Jack Donaghy’s bloodthirsty conservatism is an easy target well-struck, but he’s also the show’s lone confident and efficient character, the only adult in a room full of otherwise unemployable children. (Runner-up would be Kenneth, also not likely to vote Democrat.) By contrast, Liz Lemon’s idealism is noble, well-intentioned, and doomed to fail in a smoking heap of spirited, self-righteous fecklessness. Where do these guys get this stuff?

Friday Night Lights is good — no, excellent — at a number of things. Among them: lens flares, honest emotional development, and reducing us to quivering, sobbing puddles on the couch. So it feels churlish to point out any flaws in this final season, no matter how slight — especially when the flaws themselves are often in service to the show’s strengths. Our potentially vexing question for the faithful: Might it be possible that Coach and Mrs. Coach are too good at their jobs? And is their inherent goodness, delightful wisdom, and incipient sainthood robbing season five of, well, drama?