Dr. House, o how I envy thee. You are the epitome of everything that an asshole like myself could ever aspire to be. You wield sarcasm like a blood-spattered broadsword, and you pit your employees against each other in a conspirator’s battle royale. If only we were all so witty and ruthless… or at least, only I was. Sure, you’ve got the bum leg, but that’s a small price to pay for brilliance, so sign me up.
In the latest — and what I can only assume is the last until next season — episode of House that aired, I laughed my ass off as though we had not been denied the episode for a month’s time. It was a bit hard to put to the back of one’s mind, though, with all the Christmas cheer (or Christmas debauchery, as it were), parties, and presents. Still, seeing all the newhires together for the first time, plotting how to still keep their jobs, and also how to please House with a Christmas present. Olivia Wilde is still referred to as only 13, something I read about as being a little in-joke of sorts.
There was also a limited family of a little girl and mother whom never told one another a lie (or so we’re led to believe), but House hounds them both (inappropriately, of course) until the levees finally break, and he gets some semblance of satisfaction in finding a moment of utter, brutal honesty. You sick bastard.
And, of course, being the equal opportunist that he is, House had a slew of racist jokes to go around for blacks, Jews, and anyone else within earshot. “Happy solstice” was Wilson’s way around enticing House into a theological debate over the holiday. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t note the ostensibly philandering, ill-reputed girl who performed the donkey show. I wonder if that is (or was) going somewhere. It appeared as though House was oddly intrigued in the last scene, after all.
But, alas, we’re left with nothing from Hugh Laurie or his band of merry ass-kissers until either sometime after the strike ends (if the studios make a last-ditch effort to win back audiences this season), or next fall when we’re all so unfamiliar with our favorite shows that they all seem new again.
Goddamn those studio execs. You guys are definitely the spawn of Satan himself.
Until we see him again, though, let’s wish House that he does get laid with the church-going, donkey riding nativity Mary. Maybe we’ll see a new House that is even more intriguing to the touch.
