I've been watching a new show entitled "Californication." It is damn good. DAMN good. Essentially, David Duchovny plays Hank Moody, a talented writer who has been sans inspriation, muse or good subject for several years. The show contains a lot of nudity (usually voluptuous breasts, as it turns out), though I could really do without. Something about the show strikes a chord with me and I think it has something to do with the life that Moody has etched out for himself in the Hollywood hills. He doesn't really work, he drinks too much and rips it up on a fairly regular basis at bars, clubs, galas, whatever. His lack of productive writing has lead him to a productive, albeit contrite and shallow, social life filled with fast cars and faster women.
A career built upon procrastination, in a sense. I, too, like to sit back and do nothing. Study for a final exam? Whatever. Why not alter my fantasy NBA line-up quickly to try and snag a few more points from the hot hand of John Stockton (JK, I don't have Stockton on my team; if I could, though, I would have taken him #1 overall-- 17 ppg and 14 apg over the course of 3 seasons? Ridiculous).
Robots 1, Humans 0.
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