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I Miss Veronica Mars, Or, Why Does TV Have To Kill Everything I Love?


veronica n' pals

I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that my liking a show is essentially its kiss of death (so I hope no one is getting too deeply in to Gossip Girl, ‘cause I love those rich bitches). As soon as I really get into a show, it either gets canceled or goes the way of the Hindenburg, quality wise.

In middle school (okay, high school) I started watching Dawson’s Creek around the beginning of the fourth season when Pacey and Joey got together. They had such chemistry and Joshua Jackson was such a sexy little cupcake of a man.

Then, as if the WB knew that I was enjoying the storyline, Pacey and Joey broke up and Joey went off to boring college, got a boring roommate and dated a boring, creepy professor. And, worst of all, Pacey got a goatee.

Anyway, don’t get me started on Carnivale, My So-Called Life, Arrested Development, Freaks and Geeks, Buffy and Daria. All amazing shows that caught wind that I was ardently watching and loving and got almost immediately canceled or started sucking (the sucking part is, of course, highly subjective, but did anyone really enjoy whiny little sister Dawn? or Tom, the ruiner of one of the best friendships in TV history?)

The one that hurts the most, however, is Veronica Mars. I watched the first two, transcendently awesome seasons on DVD right before the third season premiered on the new CW network. I had never seen a female character quite like Veronica: so smart, so witty, so kick-ass, sassy, no nonsense, flawed, complex–she was pretty much my hero on celluloid. It was, without question, my very favorite show and I Could. Not. Wait for season three.

Veronica was finally with Logan, my TV crush, and starting college (where most shows would jump the proverbial shark, but I just knew that Veronica would take as many names at Hearst as she did at Neptune High). When it was finally time for the first episode, I sat myself in front of my computer (watching TV on TV is so passe) with so much happiness and anticipation and as the show proceeded, I found myself, well, under whelmed. What had happened to the electric relationship between Veronica and Logan? Where was Wallace? What was up with Weevil’s face? Why had god forsaken me?

Everybody knows how this story ends. Well, actually, they probably don’t, because no one actually watched Veronica Mars and so it was canceled. Which was a shame because it had actually gotten a lot better by the end of the third season and, you guessed it, I started to like it again. Who am I kidding? I never stopped loving Veronica Mars. I would rather have lukewarm Veronica Mars than no Veronica Mars.

And doesn’t that just say it all? Veronica Mars at its worst was about a gazillion times better than so many popular programs at their respective best (Including certain shows that survived the CW’s merciless axing like One Tree Hill and that Pussycat dolls show.)

You know, on second thought, maybe the problem here isn’t me…