I watched the whole of Season 3 of Desperate Housewives today, all 10 episodes. Not my longest record for consecutive tv watching, but nevertheless, still rather significant. I’m starting to see images above images. The numberless hours in front of this laptop and the television this semester is taking a toll on my eyesight…damn, I still have half a year’s supply of contact lenses, and I don’t wish to have to throw them away because my myopia is getting the better of me.
It was hard to hit the stop button once Desperate Housewives were sashaying on my television screen. If you call a book an unputdownable, Desperate Housewives is an unturnoffable. I’m not sure if it’s a very accurate depiction of the culture of American housewives and daily affairs, but it touches on many humanistic values. Or more of humanistic vices. Beneath the veneer of plenty of beautiful faces and bodies, the series tackles with very realistic themes — love, rage, vengeance, jealousy — and it may touch very close to home for some people as we watch how the characters go extreme lengths to get what they want. The series works like a mirror of our lives, integrating the plot with universal existing issues of today.
