Because I keep getting distracted by all the gross misogyny coming from Port Charles’ heroes lately, I’ve somehow managed to avoid commenting on the grossness coming from the acknowledged villain. Yes, that’s right: Ronnie’s the stripper beater. Well, knock me over with a feather. And they’ve been so subtle with the clues, too!
I really could have lived without another instance of “Cops are bad! The system is broken!” on this show, but I can’t say that I’ll really miss Ronnie at all. Finding out he’s secretly a woman-hating psycho is the most interesting characterization he’s ever gotten, which isn’t saying much. The guy’s never been much more than a one-note, utterly uncharismatic buffoon. And frankly, since Carlivati has improved her writing a little, I even like Padilla better. (Padilla! Oh, how the worm has turned.)
So good riddance, Ronnie! Especially if it can bring about more interactions between Dante and my new boyfriend, John McBain:
DANTE: I’m gonna call Jason.
DANTE: Well, his pregnant wife has been abducted. I think he deserves to know.
McBAIN: Hey, it’s your dime, Detective, but he ain’t a cop; he don’t belong there.
Ladies and gentlemen, reason number eighty-nine to love John McBain: not thinking it’s a good idea to treat the local hit man as a one man, freelance SWAT team! The best part of that exchange was you could actually see the wheels of confusion slowly turning in Dante’s face there: “Jason… hit man, not cop? Hit man… doesn’t belong… in hostage situation? Whaaaaaa…?”
(I should add that aside from the above, I’ve really enjoyed Dante the last few days. Amazing what not being focused on Sonny can do for a man! Dominic Zamprogna has played his panic and desperation to find Lulu very nicely. I love that he reached out to Luke and got Padilla to believe him; I’m really looking forward to him seeing McBain in a hopefully better light after all this is over.)
Not to be outdone, the ladies — though in peril — have also been acquitting themselves fairly well. First Lulu, intrepid girl detective that she apparently now is (and while I would still prefer her as intrepid girl reporter, this is still miles above intrepid… fashion magazine receptionist) figured out Ronnie was the most likely suspect, kept her calm when gagged and bound to a bed, and managed to reveal her location to both John and Dante.
Then Sam got to use her own smarts and cool under pressure to both direct Ronnie where to take them and leave a clue behind for McBain. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Sam gets exponentially more interesting to me the further away she is from Jason.
(And how much do I love that she’s currently away from Jason after telling him off for his hypocritical douchbaggery and leaving him to get his shit together without her? SO MUCH.)
I’m curious to see if the new regime will actually be able to keep Jason out of the fray for long. A pair of cops the only heroes of the day? Don’t they know this is Port Charles, where hit men are saints and mobsters have hearts of gold?
Speaking of mobsters, gosh, do you guys think Sonny will get kille– Sorry, no. Can’t even sarcastically pretend to ask that question. But this did happen:
SONNY: How would you feel if your dad was gone for–
STARR: Don’t compare yourself to my father! On the worst day he ever lived he could not be nearly as hateful as you are.
Oh, Starr… no. I’m sorry. Listen, I love Todd Manning. He is worth a dozen Sonny Corinthoses in my book. (Two dozen, even!) But please let’s not forget that on his worst day, Todd was a gang rapist, so just… no. Stop. Please.
(Also with the baby voice. Stop. Seriously. I BEG OF YOU.)
Let’s see, has anything else of note happened the last few days? Maybe something wonderful and old school that rhymes with “bat might”?
I wish there was a way I could embed a sound file of just that scream Kelly Sullivan let out before charging Carly like an enraged hippo. Because — and I know I’ve been saying this a lot lately– it was amazing. (And look at her expression in that cap! She is thisclose to detaching her lower jaw and EATING LAURA WRIGHT’S FACE.)
So that was fun. Also fun? Seeing this look on Johnny:
Let’s just say that if every episode for the foreseeable future could begin with someone showing up at Johnny’s door and either sucker punching him (kisses, Michael!) or kneeing him in the groin, I would not be complaining.
Of course, Carly being Carly, even piecing together the truth about Kate’s condition didn’t do much to deter her focus from the real victim of the situation: Carly.
CARLY: It’s something Johnny made up to justify his affair with Kate! Turning it into some complicated revenge plot with mental illness involved instead of two lying liars, literally screwing each other.
Oh, my. Where to start? Dear Carly: HOW DOES THAT JUSTIFY ANYTHING? Listen to the words coming out of your mouth, woman! Good God.
The irony is that Johnny actually does have a semi-legitimate justification he could have used — after all, Konnie did set him up and then threaten to lie and say he’d attacked her if he wouldn’t voluntarily sleep with her. Personally, I still have very little sympathy for him, because his arm clearly did not need much twisting. But you’d think he’d at least try leading with that instead of “it’s not my fault I slept with her; she wasn’t in her right mind!”
Lucky for him, his girlfriend is as morally repugnant as he is! (Because being betrayed by your man sleeping with an unwilling partner is OBVIOUSLY so much better than a truly consensual affair, right?) Oh, Carly. Stay classy.