SociopathCHIC!

Dexter Morgan—formerly dark and delicious, and born so strange.

But now, utterly boring.

I’ve hung around Dexter’s third season, mostly out of loyalty (remember, this is a gal who stuck around the last season of Buffy, faithfully, like a dog watching its anemic master die of a paper cut wound). However, factors converged to put distance between us: its Sunday night slot put it in direct competition to my beloved main squeeze Mad Men. DON’T NOBODY come between me and Don Draper. So, I’ve been catching it OnDemand…at my own pace, which can be generously described as ‘glacial.’

The other factor? Dexter, the creepy, morbid show about cheering for a serial killer, started its third season with not a bang, nor a whimper….but an open-mouth yawn.

Where’s the change? Where, I ask, is the evolution? As always, Michael C. Hall is stupid hot, with the sloe-eyed wonderment of a really evil puppy. But after the high drama of last season (DOOOOAKES!) it’s back to business as usual for Dex. Hey, more killing! Hey, more Rita! Hey, more ironic references to Dexter’s secret proclivity! I’m really starting to hate those, by the way:

Annoying Waitress

Hold on…I got these new shoes and my feet are killing me.

Cloying Dexter Voiceover

Give me a few more minutes and I’ll be killing you myself.
Harry was right…eating out can be murder.

[/fake Dexter moment]

Oh ha-ha, I get it! It’s the difference between what is said and what is meant! Ha ha ha HUMBUG. They added little tweaks to the formula, but honestly, it just feels like more of the same. I’m not actually that annoyed, but it’s more the principle of the thing. How long they expect to flog this horse is beyond me…the horse isn’t dead yet, but it’s got a bad cold (might not make the winter). But apparently it’ll be around for at least two more seasons. I’ll be there, probably, till the end—as mentioned before, I am stupid loyal.

However, I’ll give the showrunners this: whoever was behind this campaign is a certifiable genius. So CHIC. That person should get one hundred dollars and a unicorn. Or, you know, some kind of advertising award. But let them decide (Psst! Unicorn! Go unicorn!).

They ran this summer in their mock-respective publications. I just love it. It's sociopathic and it's chic...it's sociopathCHIC!

{Full story at Pajiba.}