This Post Brought To You By SouthLAnd

 I say this post is brought to you by SouthLAnd. That isn't true in the monetary sense. If SouthLAnd had any money left, it would probably still be on the air. It might need a network, too, but there are no problems money can't fix in the industry. Or some shanking. Or some shagging. But I digress.

It's brought to you by SouthLAnd because of the massive influence that SouthLAnd has had on my life, directly and indirectly.

The first SouthLAnd episode I saw was the one that ended with Cooper in an alley getting his neck bitten out. Ew. Not terribly attractive.

Left to my own devices, I never, ever would've watched that show again.

The things we do for love, though, are incredible.

You see, my mother loves SouthLAnd. Like yelling out how many hours and/or minutes were left until the next episode aired. She has a SouthLAnd shrine set up. (Not really... but sorta. Kinda.) So although I wouldn't have let SouthLAnd affect my life, I let it affect my life through my mother's life. I sat for hours, hunched over her iPad screen, watching old episodes that she had purchased on iTunes.

I came to love Ben Sherman.

Then I developed a fierce desire to slap him. Maybe shake him. Holy cow, that guy had issues. It's like Nietzsche got into his head and made a happy home there. Bad Ben. Bad Ben.

I knew Ben was troubled. But I had no idea how troubled until Sunday.

There's a scene where Sammy (I want to marry him) Bryant and Ben Sherman are discussing coffee. Ben wants Intelligentsia coffee. Sammy ridicules him for wanting the super expensive, hipster coffee. He refuses to go to Silver Lake to get that coffee.

Wellllllll, we were in Silver Lake on Sunday. Guess what was a mile from the restaurant where we had dinner? Yep. Intelligentsia coffee. Being SouthLAnd fans, we had to go. It was a moral imperative.

In my stupidity, I had assumed that Sammy was exaggerating. I mean, really - Starbucks sells five dollar cups of coffee. And it's pretty much the opposite of hipster. It's just Starbucks.

After fighting with a parking space (not for a parking space, but with a parking space) for five minutes, we got ourselves into the coffee place.

Let me set the scene. It's this enormously tall building. The ceiling isn't even in your peripheral when you walk in. The menu is in a little plastic stand thing. No chalkboard, no signs. Just an 8.5x11 paper. There's coffee. All expensive.

All around the room are people with MacBook Pros. Every. Single. Person. No PCs, no MacBook Airs or just normal MacBooks in sight. All shiny, silver, 13" MacBook Pros. It was like some kind of cult or something. Or like an Apple store.  That sounds less judgmental.

Mum and I ordered Americanos. I don't know why she ordered hers, but I ordered mine because it seemed like it would be a little bigger; you know, more caffeine bang for my buck. There was normal brew coffee, but it was all confusingly named. I was afraid I'd mispronounce it and look silly. I am no hipster.

When I got my coffee, I was shocked. So shocked, in fact, that I uttered my first f-word. I'm not proud of this. But I was like "what the....?????"

It's so tiny.

WHERE IS MY COFFEE???

That cup is so small, the word "Intelligentsia," which is printed around the circumference, doesn't fit. It gets cut off.

I was so distressed and upset that when I got back into the car, I opened the door right into my forehead. I have a bruised eyebrow now.

To clarify, I wasn't simply upset over the size of my coffee. It was small, yes. Tiny, even. But I was upset with myself for having judged Sammy for judging Ben. I was also sad for Ben. Because no sane, healthy person would voluntarily purchase this coffee.

And I have no flipping idea why Brooke would've dated him. If I was taken out for a coffee date to this place, I'd be like "uh, can I have three?", "Is this the appetizer coffee?", or "GOODBYE."

It made me feel bad for poor Ben Sherman. He needs some serious help. Good thing he's fictional.

I'm sorry, Sammy. I need to marry you. Too bad you're fictional.

Guns Are Bad Distractions. Bad.

One of my dearest friends passed away just three days ago. Naturally, I've been pretty down and sad. Lying in bed yesterday morning, I groaned at the thought of having to go to work on a Saturday. Trying to make the most of it, I tried to give myself a pep talk. "Well, little missy, at least it's a distraction. Take what you can get."

I wasn't really thinking that the distraction would come in the form of me taking on a gun threat. Nothing of that nature crossed my mind. I was thinking it would be more like selling and adjusting glasses. But no. The distraction came in the form of a gun threat.

Seriously. It was such an adrenaline rush. But I was cool. I missed my calling as a cop. Or I have just watched too much Southland. My reactions to dangerous situations have been predetermined by Officers Ben Sherman and Sammy Bryant. (I'll just try to avoid Ben's Nietzsche-like descent into moral ambiguity.)

Don't panic. There wasn't really a gun. I was 100% positive, though, that I should treat the situation as volatile. I'll tell you the story. If you still think I'm overreacting... well, you're wrong. It was pretty darn freaky. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Story time first.

Back story: the gunman in question was a previous employee at our office. He left once because he could not get along with one of his young lady coworkers. After searching for employment elsewhere, and coming up empty, he appealed to the doctor for his job back. He was given a second chance and promptly left again due to issues with a different young lady coworker. Clearly, this guy has issues with women.

He came in over a year ago for an exam and ordered glasses. We've been holding onto the glasses because he hasn't been willing to pay for them. He's tried various conniving ways of trying to get in and (basically) steal them since August of last year. He'd come in over lunch when there was only one employee or he'd come in at 6 am when only our vision therapist was there. His tactic was always the same: "oh, I called them and they said I could have them. They probably just didn't tell you since you aren't as important." Needless to say, he was sent away empty-handed. 

Yesterday, I was "in charge" of the office. All of the more experienced employees had the day off so I was the boss. Small gulp. First time calling the shots had me a bit nervous, but I squared my shoulders and charged forward. It went surprisingly well until about 11:30 when the aforementioned man walked in.

I recognized him and decided I should be the one to dispense his glasses. I had heard the back-story, so I was mentally prepared to be tough. Before I could take on this responsibility, however, my super sweet, super timid coworker pulled the chart and headed off to dispense them.

Uh oh.

There was a bright pink note affixed to the front of the chart, reading "Do not dispense until patient pays." I knew she'd see it, so I decided to let it go. She'd see the note, she could handle it. I wasn't going to micromanage. Maybe she would surprise me and hold her ground.

They sat at the dispensing table. He took the glasses out of the case, put them on, stood up, and walked out the door. My coworker watched him walk out and then stared at me, eyes wide in disbelief. "Did he just walk out with his glasses?"

I shrugged. "I doubt it." People don't just walk off with glasses... right?

He came back in a minute later. My coworker made some adjustments and the patient took them back. He again stood up and walked away. She called after him, "Sir, why are you going outside?" She sounded scared and timid and he played the intimidation card. "Stop. You're new. I used to work here. Leave me alone." He walked out.

Shoot. My coworker was totally freaking out because she didn't know what to do. I mouthed "It's ok." at her. If he was going to steal his glasses, fine. I wasn't going to go chase him down. He was clearly crazy, with his wide, staring, bloodshot eyes and bad attitude.

Five minutes later, when I'd given up on him coming back at all, he sauntered in. He tossed his glasses at my coworker. "They're dirty. Clean them."

My coworker quietly picked them up and practically ran to the back. I followed her. "When I go back out there, please come with me. You're so much tougher looking than I am and I need you to make him pay for his glasses."

I looked down at myself. Tough looking? "Ok, no problem. We can do this."

We walked back out. She stood on the side of the dispensing desk that was opposite the patient. I stood next to the patient. She handed him his glasses. "You have a balance of [some amount of dollars]. How would you like to take care of that today?"

"Oh, I'm not paying for these." He began to stand up. My coworker reached out and grabbed the glasses. "Sir, I can't let you leave if you won't pay for them."

I was wide-eyed with disbelief. She was going to have a tug-o-war over a pair of glasses with a clearly crazy man? Geez.

He began shouting. "I will not pay for these, you crazy b****! Let go! I WILL NOT PAY FOR THESE!!!"

What happened next probably took about three seconds, but each second stretched out as I watched and analyzed what to do.

With his left hand he held onto the glasses. With his right hand he reached behind him. That's when I noticed the big, suspicious lump under the back of his shirt. There was something tucked into the back of his pants, that he was reaching for. He was angry and clearly crazy.

A gun. He was going to shoot us.

I stepped closer. My coworker saw his hand and jumped back, threw her hands in the air and started screaming, "Please, sir, don't shoot."

"Sir," I said with a calm and quiet voice that surprised me, "Slowly, very slowly, put your hands where I can see them."

"I'M NOT PAYING FOR THEM!!!" he shouted as he continued to fight to free the suspicious thing from his waistband.

"Sir, I'm going to say this one more time. Put your hands where I can see them."

I was now about a foot away from him, ready to puncture his jugular with the pen I had clasped in my hand.

"Now."

He pulled his hand out and slowly put them both over his head. In his right hand was a wallet.

But I swear, if I had seen anything that looked even remotely like a gun or knife come out from that waistband, that guy would've been on the floor in no time flat. He would've had some serious pain and blood-loss issues. I took a deep breath.

"Of course I'll pay for them. I wouldn't steal from you, " he said, glaring at me.

"Kindly hand my coworker your credit card, sir." I stayed next to him. He was sitting and I was standing, and I had on my best "cop face." He shrugged his shoulders and handed her his card. She took it and ran to the credit card machine, pale as a ghost and clearly freaking out. I followed her, not turning my back on the almost-gunman.

I wasn't scared. I was high on adrenaline. Maybe this is stupid, but it's true.

Once we ran his card and handed him his receipts, he continued to sit there, staring at us. "Golly," I thought, "I'm going to have to kick this guy out."

We were comparable heights and I could probably be scary enough to get him out without actually having to touch him, but that didn't sound like fun. I thought about just taking my coworkers and leaving the building. This guy was seriously nuts. He was sitting there, staring at us with those creepy eyes, and breathing heavy and ragged. He had this little half-smile that you see on serial killers in movies. "No more creepy movies," I told myself.

Just when I had decided that we should all just leave, the doctor came out. Not knowing what had transpired, he greeted the guy in a friendly way. And this guy underwent a total transformation. He suddenly stood, became friendly and deferential toward the doctor, and peaceably left.

And that is what happened. Distraction? Definitely. Bad? Yeppers.

But guys. I could be a cop. I was awesome.

A SouthLAnd Addendum

So last week I wrote about "what happened" with Ben, Sammy, and the gang. I must sincerely apologize because it seems I was wrong. I know where I went wrong, though. My incorrect premise was as follows: Ben is a basically good guy who hasn't reached the conniving, selfish, rock-bottom stage of badness.

Turns out he has.

I didn't think Officer Ben Sherman had fallen so far. I mean, really? Not only hiring someone to break into Sammy's house and steal stuff, but to completely graffiti the place with another gang's symbol. C'mon, Ben. You have fallen so far from the starry-eyed, do-gooder rookie we met in Season One.

The walls are closing in on Ben. Time to pay the piper. It's not going to be pretty.

What The Heck Happened

So there is much twitter twatting about what happened at the end of last night's SouthLAnd episode. Using my moderately-priced liberal arts education, I have logically deduced the most likely scenario, ruling out several other theories by their circumstantial implausibility. So if you're confused and want to be unconfused, here's what happened (I think...).

The Facts:

Sammy got into a confrontation with Stroke-Face earlier in the episode. A graffiti slogan for his gang was spray-painted on a house in the background. Some of his gang members were standing there, looking on.

Ben wanted to get the incriminating tape out of Sammy's house, so he hired Elena's brother to get it for him. Elena's brother has no known gang ties, but it's probable that he is in a gang. Since he is Hispanic, however, there is no way that he's in Stroke-Face's all-black gang.

Here's the probable scenario:

Elena's brother went into Sammy's house, looking for the tape. He probably evaded the notice of the nanny, either by coming in through an upstairs window or sneaking carefully up the stairs. In either case, he didn't do anything to the nanny. He probably didn't even know she was there. (Supported by the fact that he was freaking out, telling Ben that "I thought you said nobody would be in there!")

While upstairs, he probably heard the louder break-in of Stroke-Face's gang. They proceeded to vandalize Sammy's house with their graffiti and beat up the babysitter. At this point, Elena's brother would have the tape in his hand and would be ready to just bug out of there. But being a human being with some sense of right and wrong, he took Nate (who would've been sleeping in his crib) and hid him in a closet. (Because no 18 month old is going to hide himself in the closet. He's just going to cry.) After that, he would've run for it.

So, while Ben did co-conspire to breaking and entering, which is illegal, he didn't cause the massive, almost devastating gang incident. If Nate had been kidnapped, hurt, or killed, it would have been tragic, but unrelated to Ben sending Elena's brother in to get the tape.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what happened... in all likelihood. I may be off on some of the particulars, but I do know this: Ben's involvement and the gang break-in were unrelated. The SouthLAnd team just wants to confuse us all. :)

Reading Between the Lines

Mum asked me awhile ago to write a "philosophical" post about the television show "Southland" on TNT. She watched the entirety of it while I was at school, but was so enthralled by it that she asked me to watch all of the episodes again with her. She was right: it is enthralling. It's about LAPD officers, working some of the toughest cases in the worst parts of that city. But it certainly isn't the gritty violence that brings me back to watch yet another episode. It's the morality written in to almost every character's story arc.

As with most cop shows, there are about fifty main characters. Fine, I exaggerate, but not by much. Each person has his or her own personal story arc. The most notable and interesting to me are Sammy, who has a boat load of personal life problems, struggling to cope with the death of his previous partner on the job, trying desperately to save his new partner Ben from doing stupid things, and Ben, who seems to be desperately and actively trying to ruin his own life by ignoring Sammy and doing those stupid things.

Now, I'm hesitant to make assertions here, in part because I'm sure there are many diverse opinions on what screenwriters in Hollywood are really doing with their stories. Some believe that they are actively promoting sex, alcohol, and drugs to corrupt the world's youth into a relativistic, loose, indulgent society. Watching Southland, though, that doesn't seem to ring true.

Take Ben. We first see him at the beginning of Season One, fresh out of the academy, first day in the patrol car. He's young, he's eager, and he seems pretty... nice. His story arc promises to be the typical "growth" story arc. Y'know, young guy, grows up under the watchful care of his senior partner, does good for the city of Los Angeles. Maybe has some hard knocks, loses a few battles, makes mistakes, but overall, he succeeds in becoming a stellar police officer.

Not so much.

His story arc doesn't really do the growth thing. It does the growth, but in a kinda lopsided way. He gets more confident, he wants to do good... but things get dark. Ben gets angry. There's an interesting parallel developed in the seasons, though, and this is where I'm reading between the lines (whether accurately or not is for you to decide). The more angry Ben gets, the more of a "skirt chaser" he becomes. At the beginning of Season Four, you see Ben in bed with not one, but two women. Wooooaaaah there, fella'. Ben McKenzie, the actor who plays Ben Sherman, said of his character in an interview, "He turns into a bit of a slut."

No kidding.

Now, if Officer Ben Sherman seemed happier the more "conquests" he racked up, I'd be more willing to hop on the wagon of people saying that the writers are promoting this lifestyle. But that isn't what happens. He gets angry. He gets stubborn. He almost gets his partner (Sammy) killed. Sammy sees Ben's increasing anger and tries to calm him down. Tries to get him back on the... less angry side of life.

Why is Ben angry, you ask? In Ben is the struggle of compassion and nobility vs. anger at the injustice he sees. He became a cop to right wrongs and bring the bad guys to justice. What he sees is a situation that he can only hope to contain, but never eradicate. He sees people in pain who don't want to help themselves. His compassion leads him to try and try and try to help people on a personal level. To do this, he has to get personally involved. When he gets personally involved, he cannot help but feel angry at the situation.

What can a man do with all of these emotions? Ben's solution is to party hard and sleep around on his days off. But it's obviously not a real solution. Sammy knows this. Ben probably does too. Sammy tries to reach out and help. Ben ignores him and shuts the (figurative) door in his partner's face.

Who knows what Season Five will do to Officer Ben Sherman. Will he continue on his downward bend of his growth arc, or will he finally start climbing up? To be oh-so-geeky and cliche, will he conquer the forces of evil or succumb to the dark side?

Too bad we won't find out until February...