I sat down on the couch last night to watch the 2-hour Season 6 premier of House, with the remote in one hand and a bottle of Vicodin in the other. OK, not really. I was actually popping peanut M&Ms, but it is an addiction nonetheless. I don't know about you, but I was disappointed with the ending.
Not the part at the end where House buried his face into the cake at his goodbye party. That was spectacular, and obviously the act of a crazy man. Anyone who would copy the comedic stylings of Soupy Sales belongs in a psychiatric hospital, and I was sure that Dr. House would get his walking papers revoked at this point. But no...
I was sad to see Dr. House get released from the nut house at the end of the 2-hour premier because I was thinking that the cuckoo's nest was a great setting for two or three seasons at least. I mean, Jack Bauer from 24 has spent more time in various air ducts while bleeding from his thigh than Dr. House spent in therapy.
It would have been great! A brilliant, yet clinically insane doctor/patient of the Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital cures and tortures his crazy peers, while constantly popping stolen meds and plotting his escape. As George Costanza would say, "There's a show."
But alas, House will return to the sterile hospital set, surrounded by his team of doctors, who all have mild quirks in comparison to the bipolar Alvie, the super hero Freedom Master, Silent Girl, etc. There will be an endless stream of sick people going to the hospital. House will examine them, torture them, diagnose them, and sometimes cure them.
That is, if House didn't lose his touch. He has always believed the price for his magical medical powers was his drug addiction and his anti-social behavior. Would Van Gogh been as brilliant an artist with both of his ears in tact?
That is a very deep thought for me, and I don't think I am yet ready to learn who I am without my peanut M&Ms.