Honestly, what did we do before True Blood came along?
We here at TID are well-versed in all entertainment vampire-related (see here, here and here for stone cold proof). Yet this show is clearly in a category all it's own. Yes, we'll always be hopelessly devoted to Buffy, Angel, and the Whedonverse, but - dare we say it? - not even the Almighty Joss could have brought to life a show so shamelessly, wantonly sexy and so out-of-it's-cotton-pickin'-mind (Talbot's glass urn? zomg. Marianne's meat statue? zomg. Lafayette and Jesus's crazy trip drug dream? zomg. "You need to bless the Jell-O so everyone can eat?" zomg. You get the picture.)
Long and short of it? We love it. LOVE IT. LOVE IT. LOVE IT. Love the rather heavy metaphors (God Hates Fangs, bitchez!), love the nutty combination of Charlaine Harris's ditzy approach to the supernatural and The Real South (readers who have read the books will share our hatred of Sookie's omnipresent Word-A-Day calendars and the back and forth between "y'all" and "you-all" - honestly, is anyone even actively editing Charlaine anymore? Hello! Ace Books! Please to hire a zealous young copywriter with a desk full of red pens!) and Alan Ball's witty, but soaked-in-blood-and-other-suspect-fluids psychosis.
It's a whiplash-inducing, adrenaline-spiking, hormone-stroking ride...and even though we weren't entirely blown away by this past season (dude...Alan...if a storyline is taking up too much time and not delivering anything meaty - SNIPSNIP - leave it on the edit room floor), it doesn't mean we love the show any less.
And by now you know how we here at TID show our love when it's real and true. We insert the thing we love in that quick, fateful Sound of Music scene where Captain Von Trapp sees a Nazi flag on his house, and we hypothesize as to how it will react.
One part Object of Affection, one part Classic Scene of Bravery, one part Hateful Vile Symbol. Add them all together, then shake. That's how we make a TID.
Sit back, crack open a PBR, help yourself to another large slice of pecan pie, and let us tell you the tale of THE IMPOSSIBLY ATTRACTIVE MEN OF TRUE BLOOD and their fateful encounter with the swastika that appeared in the dark of a Bon Temps night over the entrance to Merlotte's Bar and Grill...
Cailey: Can Eric be naked?! please please please!
Liz: Cailey! Control yourself, woman. We'll get there...
Cailey: [disgruntled sigh]
Liz: Do you need to go take a cold shower? Because I can get this party started all on my own.
Cailey: No, I'm fine, but speaking of showers...
Liz: Oh lord that's HOTT.
Cailey: I KNOW. But I have to watch it with the sound off, because Swedish is the goofiest-sounding language. Even with that majestic expanse of glistening man flesh before me, all I can think of is the Swedish chef...
Liz: hurdy glurgy!
Cailey: chicken in die pot!
Liz: YA! bork bork bork!
Cailey: But we digress...
Liz: Indeed we do.
Cailey: Back to Merlotte's, where a tired and disgruntled Sam has bid farewell to the last drunken redneck and is closing up for the night.
Liz: Actually, he's bid farewell to all but one drunk - Jason is still, of course, there.
Cailey: He stumbles out after Sam,talking about a Hail Mary pass he threw in High School and begging Sam to let him take a six-pack home with him, gratis.
Liz: As Sam locks the front door, he senses that something is...amiss. Glancing up, he sees that there is a giant Nazi flag hanging above the entrance!
Cailey: "What the fuck?!" he exclaims. Jason just stands there, confused. His vision is blurred...is that a big red, white and black spider?
Liz: At the sound of Sam's raised voice, Lafayette and Terry Bellefleur come running around from the back, where they just finished cleaning the kitchen.
Cailey: "Aww hell no, hookers," Lafayette declares. "I ain't dealing with this shit." He walks over to a nearby car, sits on the hood and lights up a cigarette, pleased to watch the sure-to-be-amusing antics.
Liz: Terry, unprepared to confront such a symbol of evil, is immediately overpowered by his still-afflicting PTSD. Unable even to execute evasive maneuvers, he immediately curls into a ball and starts crying, wishing his baby armadillo could be there with him to comfort him.
Cailey: Awww poor Terry!
Liz: I know! So sad.
Cailey: Sam stands there, torn between his desire to chastise Lafayette and his need to comfort Terry. Jason pukes.
Liz: As Sam makes his way to Terry, he is stopped by the swift, silent appearance of Bill Compton.
Cailey: "Don't sneak up on me that way!" Sam demands, unnerved by the unwelcome rush of pleasure south of his beltbuckle he felt upon seeing Bill.
Liz: Oh that pesky blood connection, and its resultant fantasies!
Cailey: "I do apologize," Bill says courteously. "I was only looking for Sookie, whom I owe an apology."
Liz: Of course he does. "Sookie isn't here right now," Sam responds ungraciously.
Cailey: "Do you know you have a vile Nazi flag hanging from your place of business?" Bill replies.
Liz: "Goddamit you bloodsucking fiend, yes I do and I'm trying to do something about it!" Sam shouts.
Cailey: "I meant no offense," says Bill evenly. "Would you like me to remove it for you?"
Liz: Without waiting for a reply, Bill strides purposefully towards the flag...
Cailey: When who should appear from above but Eric Northman? NAKED.
Liz: Not yet! Not yet! You're jumping the gun! Right now he's clad in leather pants and one of his Euro-trash man tanks.
Cailey: Is his hair still long?
Liz: No. He's cut it, so he looks good.
Cailey: Phew!
Liz: Why has Eric appeared on site?
Cailey: Why has Eric appeared in MY BED? No reason needed.
Liz: [withering glance]
Cailey: Fine fine. Some pretext to see Sookie?
Liz: Or he's there to speak with Bill on official sheriff business.
Cailey: Whatever the reason, he's here now!
But what will he do now that he's here? Will he take off his pants and run about cock-sockless?! STAY TUNED...
YES. I am tuned.
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