Roswell
Destiny (2)

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I Want It Crap Way

And then Max heals Kyle. Huzzah. Oh, come on, everyone. Stop looking so my-puppy-got-hit-by-the-crosstown-bus here. You knew Max was going to save him. The only person with any reason to look out of sorts is Liz, knowing that Max's predetermined counterpart is standing next to her, and now Max is going to go through this whole "I guess you're my soulmate now" issue with the newly-revived Kyle. All of which moves Liz down to an underperforming third in the Max ratings, which is just slightly above, well, me. And I've never had a damn nice thing to say about him. Porno regards Max and practically conjures the damn Backstreet Boys to the set himself, bereft of communicators or rigged acting auditions, speaking the poetic, "I don't care who you are, or what you are, I'll be here for you." As long as you love me, Max. As long as we love each other. And as long as you always show up wearing your sexy, sexy pants. Roar!

That piece of drama firmly behind us with no new action immediately threatening on the horizon, I guess it's time for some more grousing! Michael whines to Max that "I kill people, you heal them. You're good and I'm bad." He uses this potentially sinister turn of events to try and ditch Maria one more time, telling her that "I don't need anyone." Maria asks for the four billionth time, "You can just throw me away. Why is that, Michael? Why?" And though I'm still sticking with "unflattering low-cut tank tops" as the probable truth lurking deep within his troubled psyche, Michael opts for the far more emotionally stirring lie, "Maybe because I love you too much." Yeah, maybe. Powerful choice of words, that "maybe." Oh, the jokes men tell. And then there's a horribly awkward kiss between Isabel and Alex, that to recap would necessitate a surgical procedure that would, in essence, force the removal of my entire brain. So I can't say that seems worth it.

Uh-oh. Mechanical failure in town. The Wacky Caper Train seems to have some trouble pulling out of the station this week, spreading a noxious gas that causes wacky capers to spring up in almost every scene and upping the normative one-caper-per-episode-ratio into, instead, somewhere in the high thousands. Max, Michael, and Isabel conspire to steal the armored vehicle containing Nasedo, knocking out the suited agents with mysteriously-appearing two-by-fours. Sorry, my roommate just came in and typed the following, in practice for a doubtlessly fulfilling and lucrative career as a court stenographer. Anyway, she made me leave it and she won't go away. But who really cares? After all, season finale. And no one's reading anymore anyway. So here it is, straight from the Noxema skin care commercial I accidentally fast-forwarded to: "Oh wait, wait, oil absorbing sheets." And she's not even stoned.

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Roswell

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