Let’s not complain about Dexter this week. Let’s just not do it. Waddle over to that Pharma-Installation that’s mandated to be in every house now. Take the happy pill.   Snap it between your teeth and smile. It’s Christmas time, and if you’re not eating elbows from Soccer Moms and swearing in the parking lots that mayhaps there’s a chance you’re ready to swing with some fucking Yuletide cheer. Showtime has already announced that the end of Dexter is coming. The end game approaches. So let’s just smile and gently wait for the final descent to begin.

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Dexter. Sort of a bore these days. You know nothing truly terrible can happen to the Morgan. The whole show feels like its been in a holding pattern, waiting to be waived in. Bored fans, rejoice. The final descent into the Bay Harbor Butcher begins soon.

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The finale to this week’s Dexter is going to be the raging chasm of debate that’ll spurn on the rest of the season. Either you’re digging the titty-twisting-tweak to the Doomsday Killer storyline or you’re throwing yellow flags and screaming foul on the play. Drunk with Turkey and Gravy and Commerce after this Thanksgiving weekend, you’re either giggling burping sloppy animal juice or you’re slathered in hate and carbohydrates condemning the writers as manipulative hacks.

Well, where do you land?

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It’s going to be hard to weep for dumb ass Dexter in two seasons when the show concludes. With a crying Deb laying over his splattered skullcap, cursing the Nefarious Fates for weaving such a tale, I won’t weep with her. As the season continues trudging towards its somewhat blasé ending, one thing is becoming painstakingly clear.  Dexter is a douchebag.

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Dexter rolled out this week with his bro 4 life, and afterlife. It was a switch I didn’t see coming. If this was an RPG, it would be a totally arduous but ultimately rewarding side-quest. It didn’t add to the main narrative, but it was an interesting sojourn. Plus!, the loot was fantastic. Dexter gained two talent points that he could place in Sanity, which is clutch.

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I was wrong about this season’s Dexter. If you can draw a thesis from a season of a television show midway through (and I’m not sure you can), then I would argue that it’s not about Faith at all. No sir. That’s the Red Herring. Don’t buy into it. By the end of “Just Let Go”, with Brother Sam dad and Dexter seeing his serial killing brother it became pretty fucking apparent.

This season is about choice of interpretation.

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Is anything going on in this season of Dexter? Is there ice on the tarmac? What the fucking is going on. I couldn’t believe when I heard that this was the fifth episode of the season. It’s a yawntacular batch of nothingness. It’s the television equivalent of entropy. It isn’t good, it isn’t bad. It’s just…there.

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Quite often the efficacy of the sidekick is downplayed. They are relegated to pure ancillary uses. You know, serving to wipe down your bloodstains, do the laborious bone sawing. The grunt word of the serial killer underworld. Let us make no mistakes about it, every serial killer aspires to one day have their own lackey. It’s understandable. They’re clutch though, and if you’re going to take a sidekick into your underworld of Blood and Gloom the best advice I can give you is this. Choose carefully. Your enterprise rides on it.

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We’re three episodes into Dexter’s sixth season and ain’t a damn thing happened yet. I’m not worried, no sir. I take the fanboy approach. Patiently awaiting something dope. So the sweet scene with the corpse horses was the last thirty seconds of the episode. So Billy Adama and Father Joe are up to nothing. So Dexter is just giving baby baths and shit.

It can’t stay like this forever, right?

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The coda to this week’s episode of Dexter should leave everyone with a resounding “No shit, really Morgan?” It only took the Little Sociopath That Could two and a half years of parenthood to figure out that he would have to don a mask to save his child from the truth? I don’t know why this took so long to register with the typically brilliant slicer, but when the episode ended I was stunned the writers tried to float that proclamation across the narrative like it was a revelation.

Dur-duh-doi! Yeah, that’s what I spit at the screen.

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