Port Charles Chuckles

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night . . .

.  .  .  as the madman sat in his office, fingers poised above the keyboard.  Rain streamed down in torrents upon the windows and a sliver of moonlight shone through the glass, illuminating the autographed photo of John Gotti that sat in it's place of prominence at his right hand.  

Gazing at the picture lovingly, the lunatic shook his head "so misunderstood" he muttered to himself ruefully.  Thunder crashed over-head as he continued to rack his brain for inspiration.  The "writer" stood then, hands in his hair and began to pace back and forth across the room in frustration. 

His eyes moved to an opposing wall where a family tree had been drawn, red X-marks gleefully inked across all of the branches save two - - Tracy and Edward. 

"Ah-ha!" he cried, as lightening struck above him "I've got it" he shouted scurrying back to his computer, fingers flying furiously. 

"Edward Quartermaine will be the perpetrator of my next horrifically violent non-sweeps "event", huzahh - - I am a genius!"  he thought to himself as he typed quickly.

"Not only will this be another one of my truly ground-breaking, visionary, and Emmy-winning stories, but the next time some whining viewer complains that Sonny and Jason are too violent, I'll just remind them that Edward once mowed down an entire carnival full of pregnant women and young children - - that'll shut them up for sure, and if it doesn't - - I'll off Edward next.  Take that you unimaginative General Hospital purists!" 

The man stood once again and strode over to his phone, dialing the number he knew by heart  "Brian, it's me - - I've saved the day once again, that repeat Emmy for Best Writing is in the bag next year!"

Is There A Situation That Gunfire DOESN'T Improve?

Well, the carnival was off to a promising start this week (more on that in a future recap) when Bob "I never met a scene that I couldn't shoe-horn a firearm into" Guza struck again.

Watch the last twenty seconds of the clip - - -

Got that?

Yes folks, just when you thought there was no possible place for gunplay at a carnival, Guza comes through in a crunch, once again proving his singular ability to turn the innocent and unobjectionable into something violent and upsetting.

Last week's exciting promo clearly showed a car crashing into the carnival crowd.  So, let me get this straight - - a car crashing into a crowd of beloved characters (children included) and sending bodies flying isn't compelling enough drama? 

Who does Guza think his audience is - - attention-deficit blood-thirsty thirteen year old boys?

Was the gun-porn absolutely necessary???

This is a recurring and disturbing pattern with General Hospital reminiscent of the toxic ball fiasco and the black and white ball - - the need to be "bigger" and "better".  As if Anthony Zacchara running around skewering people with swords and undead Diego strangling them on Spoon Island wasn't enough mayhem, there had to be armed mercenaries as well. 

Honestly, the only thing General Hospital is getting "better" at is implausibility.

Overkill seems to be the MO at General Hospital these days, I just wish someone in power would figure out that suspense and violence are not the same thing (and soon).

Either that, or do something useful with their contrivances - - perhaps point a toxic ball in Guza's direction? 

Just a thought.

Oh Guza, the 15th Century Called . . . .

. . . . . . . and they want their antiquated view of women as chattel, back.

Seriously, are they kidding with this stuff?

 

Claudia: I'm glad you're back. We didn't really have a chance to talk --

Sonny: {and you're not going to now, wench, just sit down and listen to what I have decreed} I've been doing a lot of thinking.

Claudia: Look, I don't want you to worry about hurting my feelings or anything. It's not like I was trying to get pregnant or like I even wanted to.

Sonny: It's not about what we want or what we don't want. {and by "we", I mean me}

Claudia: Well, we got into this marriage as a business arrangement. It's not like it suddenly became some happy white-picket-fence family or anything like that. So I'm going to terminate. It's supposed to be a relatively painless and easy procedure.

Sonny: I don't want you to have an abortion. {and really, what else matters?}

Claudia: You don't want any more kids.

Sonny: Well, it's too late for that. We made the baby, we're going to have it. {we are going to gestate it in our womb for nine months, we are going to push it's cantaloupe-sized head out of a hole the size of a grape, and then we are going to take it to the coffee warehouse to get it shot in the head}

Claudia: You know Sonny, if you're just saying that because you thought I was upset on the phone with the abortion clinic, it's really -- it's really okay. I'm going to be fine.

Sonny: You weren't expecting this, neither was I, but I'm not going to terminate a pregnancy because it's inconvenient. It goes against my faith. {The Catholic church may be fuzzy on minor issues like murder and mayhem, but according to St. Jasus , they are very clear on this issue. . .}

Claudia: Well, there are other options. There's adoption --

Sonny: Hell no. This is our kid. We're going to take care of it. I've got the means to support it, and that's what I'm going to do. A child has been conceived, and I will give that child the best life I can. {Now, you just sit there and be a good little wife-y until you go into labor, so I can shoot you in the head}

Can I just say - - compared to Sonny Corinthos, Henry VIII treated his wives well. 

I have no love for Claudia, but the last time I checked, women in this country still had the right to choose what they do with their own bodies, you misogynistic numskull !!!

I could go on, but I should really be barefoot and pregnant right now. . . .