I'm back! I thought I was dead. I thought I had retired from ranting. I thought after catwoman, nothing would ever really inspire me again. I was so ready to abandon Splurd, I even started a Live Journal.
Thank god for the Fox television network. They have rekindled my burning hatred for all modern forms of media. They have brought us Drive.
There are three reasons why we were watching Drive this Sunday night. Q was in town, those who smoke had smokes, and it starred Nathan Fillion. Nathan Fillion played captain Malcolm Reynolds on Joss Whedon's Firefly and Serenity, which were recently named the best sci-fi stories of all time despite being shit canned by Fox. Fox, in it's infinite wisdom, decided it had found a much better use for Nathan's acting talents and star power in a show about a fictitious corporate sponsored illegal auto race. In short, to a fan of Serenity and Firefly, Drive is a flying two-boot Bruce-Lee kung-fu kick to the Cadbury cream eggs.
Now for the spoilers. The show starts off showing Nathan Fillion trying to convince police that his wife has been kidnapped. Apparently, cops in this world don't believe in crime. Now, maybe it's just paranoid little me talking here, but most of the cops I've met were more then happy to believe I had committed crimes such as failing to see the 6th traffic light involved in the simple process of turning left from the Fairfax County Parkway onto Route 29, so I had a hard time buying cops that disbelieve crimes. Regardless, Nathan gets shafted, but is joined by a mother who gave birth and miraculously regained her figure 2 days later and a half-minority just released from prison. All three are given a cell phones that tell them to drive to Florida.
A few scenes later, it is explained in no uncertain terms that our trifecta of troubled tourists are now involved in an "illegal cross country auto race." While Nathan is trying to uncover why his wife has been kidnapped, the mother is racing for her baby (who is perfectly safe with a nanny back home) and the half-minority is racing for his dad... or something. There's also a bunch of people who actually want to be in the race. The next two hours are filled with exciting car chases at a maddening 55 miles per hour, confusing plot development that hints at the vague possibility of a deep, spooky mystery, and mcguffins, mcguffins, mcguffins!
The best part of this show is how often the characters say the word Drive. The show clearly was designed to be a drinking game, since you hear the word drive more often then you hear Leonidas say Sparta. The writers tried to get clever with it by using other definitions of the word drive. Drive isn't only used as a verb meaning "to operate a motorized vehicle," it is also used to describe each character's motivation, and one of the aforementioned mcguffins is actually a USB flash drive that holds all the answers to everything - if only they could get it to a computer and decode it. Seffinga is convinced before the show has run it's course, there will be a golf episode where they will have to drive a golf ball. Personally, it made me want to drive steal spikes through my temples, but I'm a masochist like that.
And so in conclusion, if you think you might have to watch an episode of Drive, I recommend you drink yourself to death first. Drive is CSI Miami bad, and not even Nathan Fillion hitting a guy in the face with a wrench could save it. I give it five whiskeys. Read a fucking book instead. Preferably non-fiction, especially if you also get your news from Fox.