I've pretty much bailed - for good - with this moronic episode that would insult a Trump fanboy's intelligence. First, Bimbo Liz, the FBI profiler, is getting married - again - to the guy who was originally paid to woo her and make her his wife - and who later tried to kill her (before she subsequently tried to kill him AND held him hostage for months). They decide that morning to have the wedding that very afternoon. Then Red (and let's face it, he couldn't possibly know every gonzo international creepy criminal in the frigging world because there's not enough willful suspension of disbelief in the known universe to tolerate this nonsense) learns that criminals intend to steal a nuclear bomb and, per usual, tells Bimbo Liz. She then waltzes into the FBI building in the morning and alerts them about the bomb, and then it's 'By the way, Tom and I are getting married this afternoon, and I hope you can all make it after you put down that pesky nuclear threat to the entire world in the next couple of hours. See ya, gotta go!' (ostensibly humming 'Get me to the church on time' in her empty, cobwebbed transom). To add insult to injury, I had to fast-forward thru the dull-as-dishwater first act with killer/husband-for-hire Tom and Bimbo Liz - who couldn't 'profile' a chipmunk - making googly eyes at each other.
Sigh. I ended up gving it TWO more chances (with judicious additional bimbo fast-forwarding) as the nuclear crooks shoot up the wedding, Liz gets dead (the _only_ bright spot in 60 some episodes, but you KNOW it's ALL a subterfuge to get the baddies off her scent and she'll reappear in season 4 like the nastiest unshakable case of jock itch). And Red is ALL broken up episode's end to 'lose' the airhead... so I said, what the hell, one more episode won't hurt (more fool me...) to see what the writers do without The Bimbo dragging the whole friggin' ship down to Marianas Trench depths of idiocy.
Opening scene, we find Red in an opium den smoking /snorting /stabbing, whatever, sleeping off the devastating hurt (I'd be having the party of a lifetime, but...) and he grabs a cab out to Cape May and hides in a deserted bed and breakfast, one of those 'Summer of 42' snobby but rundown New England beach mansions, and (what a shock!) meets a mysterious woman... About 6 minutes on, I KNEW that this whole episode was going to be tossed off as an opium dream, and the chick was going to represent The Dead Mother of Dead Bimbo (an annoying running subplot that is not worth the effort to explain). Or...are they??? Tune into the next juvenile, inept, unbelievable 150 frigging hours or so of...the Bleccch List.
Never Again. I'd rather have the equivalent of root canal applied to my penis and scrotum. The ONLY thing I'll miss is that tall brunette Mosad agent Navabi (sic). Wouldn't mind dancing the horizontal tango with that one.
Sigh. I ended up gving it TWO more chances (with judicious additional bimbo fast-forwarding) as the nuclear crooks shoot up the wedding, Liz gets dead (the _only_ bright spot in 60 some episodes, but you KNOW it's ALL a subterfuge to get the baddies off her scent and she'll reappear in season 4 like the nastiest unshakable case of jock itch). And Red is ALL broken up episode's end to 'lose' the airhead... so I said, what the hell, one more episode won't hurt (more fool me...) to see what the writers do without The Bimbo dragging the whole friggin' ship down to Marianas Trench depths of idiocy.
Opening scene, we find Red in an opium den smoking /snorting /stabbing, whatever, sleeping off the devastating hurt (I'd be having the party of a lifetime, but...) and he grabs a cab out to Cape May and hides in a deserted bed and breakfast, one of those 'Summer of 42' snobby but rundown New England beach mansions, and (what a shock!) meets a mysterious woman... About 6 minutes on, I KNEW that this whole episode was going to be tossed off as an opium dream, and the chick was going to represent The Dead Mother of Dead Bimbo (an annoying running subplot that is not worth the effort to explain). Or...are they??? Tune into the next juvenile, inept, unbelievable 150 frigging hours or so of...the Bleccch List.
Never Again. I'd rather have the equivalent of root canal applied to my penis and scrotum. The ONLY thing I'll miss is that tall brunette Mosad agent Navabi (sic). Wouldn't mind dancing the horizontal tango with that one.