Chuck, or, He's blogging ANOTHER show?

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Yeah, buddy, you heard right. I have Chuck thoughts.

Steve Heisler over at The A.V. Club had some beef with the most recent episode of Chuck, "Chuck vs. the American Hero." Mostly, those complaints centered on contrivances.

Other critics have discussed the many holes in the spy world Chuck inhabits, and they've all come to the same conclusion: Sometimes it's best not to think about this show too much, and just go along for the ride. It's like a video game spy world, not a real one, and the show is all the more entertaining for it.

I'm fine with that—have been the entire run—but sometimes there are episodes where I can't help but see the flimsy wires holding the show up.


I don't necessarily disagree with the overall commentary. However, I think that Steve misses the opportunity to allow that maybe Chuck is starting to grow up a little. An egg may have a flawed surface, but that might just be the sign that a bird is about to emerge (or that a weasel has just sucked the yolk out, but let's leave that possibility aside for now and enjoy the metaphor).

There were two moments in last night's episode that make me think this, anyway. (I'm going to skip the exposition on the narrative, since I haven't ever blogged about this show; for now, I'll assume that you're at the same point in the show that I am.) In reverse chronological order, they are as follows.

1) The tranq gun

Chuck has, at this point, breached the outer defenses of The Ring's compound. He takes cover, steadies his tranquilizer gun, wheels blind around the corner and puts a dart right in the neck of the one gunman at the other end of the hall. "Huh," he soliliquizes, "no flash necessary!" He was able to pull off some nimble gunplay apparently on his own. I say "apparently" because of…

2) The Dr. Jibb machine

Immediate reaction on the Internets to Chuck's flash on the code sequence for the fake soda machine was uniformly negative. "How would the Intersect have had any intel on Ring operations?" Now, I don't have an encyclopedic understanding of Chuck lore, but it seems to me we're being led down a path with all these nuggets of information.

Sarah killed Shaw's wife. Sarah used to be partnered with Bryce. Bryce is the reason Chuck is the Intersect. Bryce wanted to protect Chuck from the government. Bryce was a recruitment target of Fulcrum, a part of The Ring.

I think Chuck is now what Sarah could never fully be: a Ring sleeper agent. The flash on the Dr. Jibb machine was triggered by a part of the Intersect unknown to Chuck and the CIA, and also led to his facility with the tranq gun (and knowing the state of The Ring's defenses) once inside the Ring facility. Sarah, on the other hand, was just used by The Ring back during her red test, when she killed Shaw's wife. Maybe Bryce misled her about her red test, maybe someone else did. But I bet she didnt' kill who the CIA wanted her to kill.

And I bet we're gonna see Chuck and Sarah on the run, but not for love's sake. They're going to be fugitives from both sides.

Bein' sick stinks

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I'm sick. Well, I was sick; I'm mostly over it now. It's my second cold of 2010, which is pretty obnoxious when you consider the fact that I've been known for an otherwise sturdy immune system. My wife, though? Not so much. If I get sick, she gets sicker. She gets mad when I give her my colds; she'd positively kill me if I gave her the flu or something really nasty.

These infectious tête-à-têtes (head colds-to-head colds?) between the two of us makes me think about social biology and genetics. Humans are social animals and we tend to find ways to smudge the edges of individuality just a little when we're in packs. Menstrual cycles sync up between women who live together for long periods of time. (Ahem. Pun not intended.) (EDIT: Or not. See comments.) And our immune systems, long thought of strictly in that sense, turn out to play a key role in the way we pair off for romantic relationships.

I think the connection between these pseudo-pheromones is fascinating. I love that there really is a basis for Fabienne telling Butch in Pulp Fiction, "I like the way you stink." And even if my immune system isn't a lock-and-key fit with my wife's, she still likes to wear my t-shirts to bed. They smell like me, and she's cool with that.

So it'd be nice and warm-fuzzy if our immune systems dovetailed neatly, the way they're "supposed to" if two people are a "match" for one another. One gets sick, the other doesn't, and vice versa--and the offspring get the best of both parents' immunities. Personally, I'd bet that very few couples match up that way. And I think that those whose immune profiles are less than mirror images--like mine and my wife's--slowly start to sync up over time. One person plots out the course of the illness, and then gives it to the other. How generous! What's mine is yours, honey.

So I'm just about done with my cold, I've run the marathon; meanwhile, the wife is just coming to the 13-mile mark. But babe, I'm right here at the finish line, and I'm rooting for you! And I stink.

Really

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I'll blog again some day. Promise.