There are doctors running from pesky malpractice problems in California, mothers running from ugly divorces in Michigan, options traders who crapped out in Chicago, police officers who burned out in New York City.
All we seem to notice is the "he-said-she-said," who-snapped-at-who crap.
The killer of the title is a naked, lard-slathered old coot who conducts crap disco tours with his nerdy son, until a woman comes between them.
It's actually a pretty cool idea, though I wonder if they'll sell extra headsets separately for people who lose crap like that (me).
This lost them the youthful audience, who prefer crap to Cole Porter's music.
RT @jackshafer: New @ReutersOpinion: The guy who reads crap on the Web so you don't have to.
The point is, who the crap killed Jason Blossom, and why is his sister so nuts, oh yeah how about Betty's mom, what the holy hell is her deal?
It's lazy writing and it's also pretty batshit when you consider the message it sends the ideal woman is one who eats crap all the time yet is still skinny.
