Unfortunately, Sookie is carrying on as well. Newly awakened from her coma (boooooo), our lil’ bottle-blonde banjo strummer finds herself face to face with Bill Compton’s bangs. Sure, she loves Bill Compton’s bangs more than almost anything, but, considering that Bill Compton’s bangs are the reason that she was unconscious to begin with, she can no longer reason the two of them together. Plung plung plung, goes the guitar. Ruh ruh ruh, goes the fiddle. Yes, it is sad. Both parties are crying, while a third party (hint: the third party is me) is falling asleep on her parents’ sofa. Ruh ruh ruh, indeed.
So Sookie heads back to Bon Temps only to mope around and be passive aggressive to the people who care about her. She’s particularly rude to Tara even though Tara has saved her life at least three times in the past few days and is experiencing some hardcore PTS of her own. Sookie could care less because she’s too busy making half-passes at Werewolf Alcide and ignoring the advice of everyone she comes into contact with. One such piece of advice comes from Eric Northman, who, through a messenger, tells Sookie that King Russell is coming for her and she better run. Rather than listen to a thousand year old vampire with insider information, Sookie does the usual stomp'n' holler, shoutin’ “Come ‘n’ git me! I ain’t scared a’nothin’!” all while doing a rain dance in her backyard.
Speaking of Eric, our sweet Golden Prince of Scandinavia, what is he up to? Why, playing chess with Talbot, of course! The game of the sexes! A centuries old symbol of courtship and flirtation! How subtle. Anyway, Talbot gets bored and demands that Eric takes off his clothes and Eric is like, “okay” and does it. And then they start kissing, which is
While one vampire has come out on top (HACHA!), another is left dejected. Bill, back in Bon Temps, is doing his same old “it sucks to be a vampire” routine (even though it clearly doesn’t). “I’m no good to anybody,” he opines and is, in many ways, right. He should probably kill himself, but he doesn’t. I suppose this is good for Jessica, his neglected baby progeny, who has been stuck at his mansion and negotiating the terms of vampirism all on her own. Still, she needs a father figure (don’t they all) and Bill is the best that she can do. To make up for his absence, Bill decides to give her some fighting lessons, which end up coming in handy once Russell and his werewolf gang show up at Sookie’s house. Once the fight is over, however, Bill again forgets about Jessica (who, last he saw, was badly injured) because Sookie tells him that she still loves him and suddenly it’s bone o’clock. This bone o’clock is different than the others, though, because Sookie puts him in a chokehold and he puts her in one and—zzzzzzzzzzzzz. I DON'T CARE.
What bugs me most about True Blood these days is not the amount or quality of graphic sex and violence, but how the writers are using that sex and violence to cover up weak plotlines and character development. Ultimately, Bill and Sookie could perform Bukaki and it still wouldn’t be edgy because they, as characters, are completely dull. The same can be said about Eric rolling around naked with Talbot. To me, the idea of two men having sex with each other is neither abnormal nor taboo, which allowed me to see what wasn’t there—emotional investment in either characters' storyline. Ultimately, I’ve come to the realization that I don’t care what happens to a single person on this show (except Lafayette…maybe), but, seeing how the current season of True Blood is getting the highest ratings of any show in HBO history, I don’t see them turning things around anytime soon.
Oh, well. I’ll still be tuning in next week.