“I have one request: Please use birth control.”

So sayeth Diane Miller, and rightly so, to local mob boss Sonny Corinthos on General Hospital as he pursues the federal prosecutor Claire Walsh.

That’s right, people.  I don’t have cable television, and I am nearly done with my second master’s, and I enjoy eating arugula, doing yoga, and hanging out in coffee houses, and yes, I also watch General Hospital.

If you’re in academia for the long haul, you tend to append a bit of a “fun” research interest or pop culture area of study to your CV, just for overall texture and yummy flavor.  I have colleagues who can parse detection fiction, sci fi, comic books, porn, underwater basket weaving—where was I? Oh, yes: mine would be GH, even though I have serious problems with it on several levels we’ll get to over time.  (TEASER!)

The show’s most recent publicity stunt (or rather James Franco’s publicity stunt) entailed his guest stint as a serial killer/performance artist, and do I even have to tell you how laughably, hysterically awful this was?

No, because Mallory on Serial Drama did such a spectacular job breaking down Franco’s penultimate episode I’m still sitting here doing a slow clap for her.  BRAVO.

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