Ah, summer time. Finally, time to shimmy off those sweaters and step into the caftan of your choosing. Time to revel in your relative youth and the sudden phenomenon where all of a sudden, everyone is really attractive for no reason, albeit really sweaty for obvious reasons. The time when television forgets about how high-minded and bougie and class act it can be and treats us with enjoyable trinkets of tomfoolery instead.
I long for summer all year, and curse the Hammer of Thor when my brief respite of summer sun and nether-region sweat is swept away from me. That Thor dude is a cruel god, nah mean?
I’d have to say, dear reader, that my favorite thing about the summer (besides summer rosés and constantly accidentally hitting on gay dudes) is basking in the glow of my miniature-sized AC unit and settling down with the malt liquor of my choice to get up in some televised guilty pleasures. But that’s not all! This summer in particular is shaping up to not only include the shows that you only speak of in the shadows (“True Blood,” I’m looking at you) to actual quality shows that are as straight-up enjoyable as they are well made. And me being me, well … I’m looking forward to the best of the best of summer TV.
“True Blood”
One of the most terrible and yet most delightful shows in recent knowledge, “True Blood” is in its final season this year, so chances are the insanity will be overzealous, present and accounted for. Though the show has already introduced werepanthers, in the novels that the series is loosely based on, creatures exist called weretigers because werewolves proved to be too mainstream. Classic them. I’m kind of hoping that these elusive, most likely chupacabra-esque creatures replace whatever zombie vampires “True Blood” is currently trying to make happen, but it doesn’t even actually matter. Because the one thing that “True Blood” is always good for (besides Sookie’s crooked eyebrows full of crazy) is hot, sweaty dudes who look like they’ve been mud wrestling with their collection of plaid button-ups. Therefore, I will cherish this season no matter how ass backwards it proves (or doesn’t!) to be.
“Orange is the New Black”
It’s true. I, much like all of your little watercooler friends at work, binged all of “Orange is the New Black” over the course of a lonely, beef-and-broccoli-filled weekend, and it was pretty much the best weekend of my life. Both sassy and smart, “OITNB” tackles things like white privilege, transgenderism and the regular use of a screwdriver as a weapon slash dildo without ever losing its sense of humor. Also Natasha Lyonne is in it, and its ad campaign is a thing of magic.
“Girl Meets World”
This is happening, too! I actually have no interest in this whatsoever — what, with Mr. Feeny not being the star of the show, which is a colossal error — but I hear that Ben Savage has a new pointy nose, and I’d like to see it in action.
“Masters of Sex”
I love me some Lizzy Caplan. And this drama is unsurprisingly good. It’s complex and layered, there’s a lot of actual sex happening, and it’s exciting to see people learn about sex from a biological level. Also, Showtime has somehow made Michael Sheen, a guy I know best as the white Wesley Snipes kind of … attractive? No, like, really attractive. I haven’t actually made it all the way through the first season, but I was super into his cold demeanor, his scientific fascination with prostitutes and his secret Lizzy Caplan lust. Also, there is more consensual sex on “Masters of Sex” than there is on “Game of Thrones” this season, which is pathetic and makes my blood boil.
Other shows that have piqued my interest, all new, include “The Leftovers,” which seems to be some post-Rapture, hot sweaty Justin Theroux shit; “Married,” an FX comedy with Judy Freakin’ Greer (and also Nat Faxon if you’re into that) and “You’re The Worst,” another FX comedy which seems to be about young, self-destructive people boning … so, my kind of show.
So while you’re out sunning, hitting the beach and going on your romantic bike rides, I’ll be inside, huddled by my AC unit and stifled by the heat of my TV. And clearly, I’ll be in good company. At least until Ben Savage’s new nose comes along.
Rachael Clemmons is a contributing journalist for TheBlot Magazine.
