Please don't make me shoot you; this is your first episode

The first season of Glee forced me to reach out with clawing hands, desperate to find a show with a plot. In one hand, I had the third season of True Blood, and in the other, Rookie Blue, the new cop drama I'd seen far too many trailers for on Global.

"Please don't make me shoot you; this is my first day on the job!"

That's the line that had me hooked.

And the trailers promised, of course, plenty of drug busts, shoot-outs, steamy encounters in changerooms, and that warm feeling of caffeine-powered police station camaraderie you feel when all the cops get together to be briefed on the latest cases in the neighbourhood.

Sure enough, Rookie Blue delivered on these things.

Coffee? Check. Gun? Check. Badge? Check.

Woman cop in a man's world, with potential father-daughter issues? Check.

Bad-ass undercover cop busting dealers? Check.

Generic bar scene where all the cops (regardless of their undercover status) appear to end up every night? Check.

Other than these curt nods to other police dramas, unfortunately, there seemed to be very little to distinguish Rookie Blue. It really wasn't anything special.

Actually, I would add that it was more often than not less than special. The plot developments were horribly contrived.

Riddle me this: What should your squad do when suspects flee the scene?

Answer: Keep all your best cops on the ground floor to arbitrarily wander the place and do bureaucratic CSI shit, while inexperienced rookies wander off in pairs or alone.

Rookie Blue exploits this impossible situation twice in its premiere, presumably to develop the characters of Andy (Missy Peregrym) and the other generic, stereotypical rookie cops-whose-names-and-faces-I-can-scarcely-care-to-recall. This complete cop-out of a plot device--for lack of a better expression--severely wounds the show's credibility and appeal to any sense of realism. A viewer whose understanding of the police can be limited to a solitary speeding ticket (me) should be able to pick up on the fact that almost none of the cops' actions in Rookie Blue even come close to resembling procedure.

Accidentally shooting a suspect? Okay, that's one thing.

Arresting and detaining an undercover cop long enough for another cop to come out and say "Jim [can't recall if that was his name, don't really care though] is that you?" and the other drug dealer to be like, "Shit you're a cop!"? That's really starting to verge on contrived.

Anyway, that's all I really want to say about Rookie Blue. This here Queen of One Hundred Chances may very well watch the second episode and give Annie-or-whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is and her stock character cop buddies another chance, but consider yourself warned: Rookie Blue lacks a lot.

Now, if you'll excuse me; I'm going to watch an episode of season one of Angel. Kate Lockley and her stock character police buddies might be unoriginal and lame, but at the least the show has the supernatural to make up for that. Maybe the creators of Rookie Blue should throw in some vampires to make things slightly more interesting.

Glee: A guilty pleasure ends its first season

Like a president’s scholar doing MDMA for the first time, Glee ran through the latter half of its first season without a clue as to where it was going. Loose ends were whipped recklessly around, characters were starved of motivation for their actions, but there was a whole lot of music and a whole lot of glitter.

Sadly, the show has started in recent episodes to be driven by its theme-of-the-week instead of any plausible conflict or character development. “Theatricality” seemed to frame an entire episode simply because the producers wanted a few Lady Gaga covers. While “Funk” was supposed to reveal Vocal Adrenaline’s jugular (because they’re “soulless automatons” and can’t understand funk), it never really played out into the plot, which essentially remained idle.

With the plot idle, the characters were left to lounge around and stew in their own stereotypical portraits.

Apparently bored with Kurt dropping fashion references, the writers decided they’d make a painfully ridiculous plot arc in which he thought he’d turn straight, date Brittany (ugh), and sing John Mellencamp.

Meanwhile, Artie had a dream in which he was magically abled, a scene that may or may not have been made with the purpose of showing viewers that Kevin McHale doesn’t actually need a wheelchair to get around.

Mercedes had what (I think) passed for serious body issues, to which Quinn could apparently relate because, you know, when you’re pregnant, the stigma doesn’t come from being pregnant, but from being fat!

I like to call Glee’s approach to casting and representation “diversity management.” The othered characters serve the purpose of either a) creating identitarian conflict or b) making New Directions look inclusive and attractive to as many different viewers as possible, all without having to give any of these othered characters any depth. Meanwhile, Rachel and Finn continue to hog the spotlight.

In the season finale, Olivia Newton John, playing herself, ironically refers to New Directions as “tokenistic.” Is this a sign the writers realize their show has representation issues, and intend to rectify the problem? I sincerely hope so.

How Sue sees it

The too-cruel-for-school gym teacher with the bureaucracy inexplicably on her side was, really, what hooked my interest in Glee initially. Interestingly enough, Sue Sylvester was the one aspect of the show that kept my faith alive throughout its dismal second half. And sure enough, she delivered.

I frequently found myself saying, “There isn’t nearly enough Sue in this episode!” What relatively little of her that was shown, however, really turned Sue Sylvester on her head. One might make the argument that it’s a little too much to show Sue Sylvester sulking in bed or at all expressing her true feelings, but, ultimately, the dulling of her ego amounted to one of the most crucial (if not the only) plot developments in the second half of the series.

By pairing the word “dull” with Sue Sylvester’s ego, I don’t at all mean to suggest her career as venomous queen of one-liners is nearing its end. She continues to deliver a decent share of hair-related insults and politically-incorrect zingers:

“You have enough product in your hair to season a wok.”

“I might buy a small diaper for your chin, because it looks like a baby’s ass.”

And, of course, my absolute favourite this half of the season:

“Your hair looks like a briar patch. I keep expecting racist, animated Disney characters to pop up and start singing about living on the bayou.”

Now that Glee has been renewed for another two seasons, a big and bright future looms. Here’s hoping our president’s scholar starts making more good life choices. Either way, the music will continue to be catchy, and Sue Sylvester will continue to be vile. I’m afraid to say those two things alone are enough to keep me watching.

Thank the devil for guilty pleasures.