Fuck You--It's the Forensics-Off!

I actually thought up a lyrical poem about these two comforting fellows, while laying on the couch hunting for more CSI. So tired, so very very tired. Something along the lines of Grissom was here first, with his catchy one liners. He needs a hug, but don't put up with whiners.

Basically the point is that I've now accepted CSI: Miami and David Caruso as Horatio Caine, grudgingly, into what passes for the sometimes loosely "forensic" story telling in my TV viewing. He needs moisturizer, but he's all right. I believe him when he says he'll get you. Clearly a win-win situation when you find two back to back episodes that you haven't seen.

"Mac" Taylor on CSI: NY doesn't quite live up to the sly cheese you've come to expect from Grissom, or the drawling dryness of Caine, but the worst essence of both. I don't trust him. "Bring a spatula." Indeed. The best part of that script is that the investigator acually brought one, and proceeded to use it. Yes yes, to pry up a flattened body.

To Gary Sinise: The year is 2035, and you are an astronaut. You and three other astronauts must travel to Mars, dodge asteroids, and experience high G-force!