Desperate Housewives

Is it just my critical pen, or is Desperate Housewives deteriorating to the point of becoming just another soap opera?

I was addicted to Desperate Housewives even before I saw the first episode. The title rings true with every “family woman”, whether she works for a living or not. I must admit, the suicide mystery was not what I expected, but I went along with it and it was fun for a while. The early episodes of the first season made sure they justified the adjective in the title by pointing out the little frustrations of being a homemaker, a mother and a sex partner; and I really enjoyed my Monday nights in front of the box. Ok, so it wasn’t as quirky as Ally McBeal or as fascinating as Lost, but hey, I liked it.

We are now over halfway with season two, and so far we’ve had Gabrielle in a punch-up with a nun, we’ve had chopped-off fingers, we’ve had Insane Susan hop around the hospital with medical equipment. What once was a semi-intelligent TV entertainment program (if you forgive the oxymoron), has now turned to slapstick.

I don’t know about other housewives, but this one is indeed desperate. Change the writers or I’ll change the channel.