Back to blood-spattered programming

It’s been a while since my last Dexter episode. Once I was so hooked to this show that there were times when I’d hear Michael C. Hall’s voice — that unique, deadpan drawl — in my head. But after season 4, which was awesome and best remembered for John Lithgow as a bad-ass serial killer, the succeeding seasons saw the series drifting south. Consequently, it drifted off my radar, too.

Episode 701

Secrets revealed: Debra and Dexter Morgan

Last Sunday night, however, finding ourselves with a DVD copy of the complete season 7 courtesy of my brother, Charmaine and I decided to give the series a whirl just for the heck of it. It only took two episodes for us to agree that the season has promise. Its Dexter vs. an organized crime this time, with sister Debra, who finally learned all about his “dark passenger,” providing distractions on the side. We hope we’ll not be disappointed.

Jesus, not another Dexter blog

Holy shit! John Lithgow is the main antagonist inΒ Dexter season four, and in it he’s one vicious motherfucker known as the Trinity Killer. Swell!

I’ve always thought of John Lithgow as kind of weird-looking ever since 3rd Rock from the Sun. Perhaps it’s his height, or his huge forehead and his unusually small face, or the way he would sometimes talk in a deadpan manner. Whatever. There’s just something in him that tells me he would make a good evil guy.

Still, I didn’t expect to see him naked in a bathtub one day, choking an equally naked girl, telling her, “Sssh, it’s already over,” and then slicing her up gingerly, slowly…

My kinda entertainment, folks. At 4:41 in the morning.

On real-life monsters

My favorite fictional serial murderer offing a perp.

3:36 a.m. on a rainy Friday. Watching Dexter season 3 episodes. Trying to wash out the grim memory of Thursday the 13th, particularly the rape-slay of that 19-year-old girl in UP Los BaΓ±os (just one of the heinous crimes that was reported that day). I checked her Facebook account. Big mistake. Now I can’t look at my daughter without seeing the victim’s face. Who can blame Ronald Llamas, the president’s political adviser, if he wants to own an AK-47 to protect his family?

I like to believe that out there in the dark and rain a real-life Dexter is doing what the authorities, with their politics and bureaucracy and incompetence and shit, could hardly do: finishing off bad guys. Ending the careers of rapists, murderers, robbers, and other such scums who make the streets unsafe for us and our loved ones.

In the most unimaginably brutal way possible, if I may suggest.

Unfortunately, Dexter is a dude named Michael C. Hall and he’s an American actor who’s rich enough to afford the best security for him and his family. Which means we just have to fend for ourselves.

So much for wishful thinking.

And also for these gloomy late night/early morning I-haven’t-slept-yet thoughts.

Acute tonsi what?

Got sidelined by “acute tonsillopharyngitis”* for a week. Was bedridden for three days because of the accompanying fever. In fact, on Monday night, while Typhoon Pedring was whipping Metro Manila and nearby provinces with gusty winds and heavy rains, I was nursing a 39.5 fever. Thankfully, my temp had stabilized when the lights went out. Still, it was a scary experience, feeling helpless on an awful night like that. I give credit to Charmaine for being calm despite everything.

Though it was hardly the “staycation” of my dreams, the unplanned hiatus from work allowed me time to indulge on the things I like. I watched the entire season two of Dexter and am now three episodes deep into Game of Thrones. I also finished reading Ben Mezrich’s Bringing Down the House. It’s a good read, although I think I would’ve appreciated it more if I’m into blackjack or card counting or casinos. If anything, it stoked my cravings for the high life, Vegas-style.

In between books and DVDs, I napped and played with Raven.

Sadly, no writing was done except the email I sent to my bosses Tuesday morning to inform them of my predicament and my leave, and some routine journal entries. Surprisingly, I didn’t miss the Internet. Not even a bit.

So there.

*According to my medical certificate