ok, so i’m totally hooked on Law and Order now, even the ones with that guy that sounds like a low-talking John Malkovich. not only does he speak with completely ambiguous dynamics, but he has no sense of personal space. which is a cool character trait for a detective, i guess, but every time he moves in on someone to touch them or whisper the magic words that break the case, i get all creeped out. anyways, so i can watch a lot of L&O since i’m such a latecomer and since it’s on every single channel at every time of day, i’m a pretty happy junkie. until the other night. the story line was my life: freelance writer with penchant for weird stories has a fair-to-middlin’ career with a regional paper, is a complete nymphomaniac (the subplot involving the new SVU cop learning the difference between “fromage” and “frottage” was hilarious), she has no contact with her family. after her body was found on the street below her apartment, no one had called or even noticed she had gone MIA. oh yeah, and she was a stone cold fox. i know! and THEN, it turns out she was molested by her father, who is now raising his second family, with a ten year old girl at home. this motivates the older sister to get involved and confront the guy and break the story wide open (it was suicide). except for the trust fund part, that’s me! i just wasted the past year writing about life when L&O did it in half an hour. that, my friends, is a lesson is economical writing, not to mention the importance of monitoring one’s proper place in the universe. the end.