Dear Eric Northman, if you die, I will be inconsolable. Somehow, I haven’t tired of your brooding nature, or your staccato bursts of malaise. Nor your continuous pining for Sookie Stackhouse, despite the fact that you’re far too good for her hillbilly ass. No seriously, if you are reduced to cinders and eulogies next episode, I am going to be one seriously sad dudebro.

And so the writers of True Blood have me hooked like it’s the good ole days. Yeah, you know, back in 2008. When I loved True Blood. I know I do a lot of hatin’ about True Blood, but it’s based out of pure emotional response and not some sort of agenda. So I can say I was pretty stoked with last night’s episode.

For the first time since the middle of season two, I was totally aggravated that the show was over. I have to wait two goddamn weeks to find out what happens to my beloved Eric? Fucking Labor Day! Do you know what I’ll be doing next Sunday? Probably sitting on my fat ass! Why can’t I do that while watchin’ the season finale? Son of a bitch.

But it’s a good aggravation, the sort of interest that stems from wanting to know what happens next. This is in contrast to almost this entire season, where my mind was a river of profanity and hate following an episode. I was a river of confusion, wondering what the fuck I loved about the show so much in the first place, and how it had run so far off course.

Last night reminded me.

Bill and Sookie In: Of Mice And Men
A good portion of the episode was dedicated to Bill and Sookie cruisin’ the swamp-ass roads of Louisiana, dreaming of what their life would be like if they could start over. Just to prove that I’m not just fickle, but also an overly emotional dude, I actually dug on those scenes. It was all Of Mice & Men & Vampires & Fairies, as they detailed the impossibilities they’d love to indulge in.

Plus, with those gap-teeth and that tendency to embark on the hopelessly stupid, Sookie can totally be the Bon Temps’ version of Lennie.

It was enjoyable though, to see the couple actually interacting for almost like three minutes without someone’s life at stake. Sure it goes to shit pretty quickly, but before Russell totally upends their dumb car, they actually come off like the rest of us couples; fucked up, trying to make it work, and hopelessly in love with the idea of their relationship.

Jason In: No Country For Old Stackhouse
Leave it to True Blood to drag in some commentary on the state of modern sports. Poor Jason Stackhouse strives to legitimize his career in the face of his spiritual successor as the High School Jock Top Shit. Motherfuckers.

Jason’s always been one of my favorite characters, because of his hopelessly retarded antics. But underneath all that bullshit, I’ve enjoyed the times when they’ve attempted to humanize him. Give him a few flourishes to go alone with his boneheaded statements and his nintety-three pack abs.

I feel for the dude. Stuck in a back road town, one of his only claims to fame seemingly about to be obliterated by a cheater, it’s got to be depressing as fuck for the guy. Even more so since I think Jason feels that there’s a good chance this kid will make it.

There’s probably some ethical dilemma here for more people, but I hope Jason blasts that kid’s stupid arm off with a shotgun and then dances in his blood.

Jason actually comes off like the rest of us humans; fearful of being outmoded in the face of newer, superior versions of ourselves. Quicker, faster, their potential not yet wasted, or withered, or perhaps worst of all, close to being actually actualized.

Sam And Tara In: Two Disposable Characters
What the fuck has happened to Sam Merlotte? They’ve turned the dude into a raging douchebag. I’m sorry yo, but I don’t buy the transformation. You can’t take a seemingly good guy, throw in a painfully LOST-esque flashback to complicate him, and then turn the character on its head.

A couple of verbal shoves from Tommy, and all of a sudden the dude is snapping? I’m sure the argument could be made that this was a long-time building, but it all seems terrible sudden to me. Like, really? And furthermore, I liked Sam as the unblemished Eye of the Shitstorm. Let everyone else run around completely fucked and morally ambiguous, I liked the everyman that anchored the series.

Then there’s Tara. All she does is drink and fuck and cry. Yawncore. If I have to watch her make those bulging eyes like Winston from Ghostbusters 2, or quiver her lip and lament something again, I’m going to puke. Merlotte dude, if you think your life is rough, don’t buy into the bullshit about Tara’s life being relatable. She just gon’ get you dun killed.

Bill And Eric Are: The Mega Powers
The Mega Powers are, empirically, the greatest wrestling tag team of all time. Macho Man and Hulk Hogan, shoved underneath the same ideological roof. Their ideology? Kick unquantifiable amounts of ass in the name of Miss Elizabeth. Bill and Eric need to be forming the True Blood equivalent of this epic union, and it seems to be underway. Sookie can be Miss Elizabeth, but hopefully she won’t die doing cocaine with Lex Luger.

What are these two sons a bitches planning? I’m not sure. But they better start atomic leg and flying elbow dropping some motherfuckers. Much like the Mega Powers, I am certain their truce shall be short-lived, but while they combine their powers, Russell Edginton and the rest of vampire scum are in for a world of pain.

But, if their stupid union collapses under the weight of Northman’s self-sacrifice, my screeches shall rival that of the Nazgul, and I will swear off those show for at least the break between seasons. Then the promise of perhaps reviving him in the beginning of season four will sucker me in.

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I spit more slop culture bullshit over at Omega Level.

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