I have never written a review, but last night’s episode #504 of Arrow, titled “Penance”, inspired me. So here you go, my takeaway from last night’s ep…

Curtis – I’m weak AF. Watch me take a licking and keep on— getting licked …again. And again. And again. And again (and again) because clearly the writers no longer want me to be liked.

Wild Dog – I’m a trouble making jackass that continues to pitch petulant fits and ignore anything anyone tells me EVER. ALSO, I’m a complete misogynistic ass hat because clearly the writers don’t want me to be liked.

Artemis – I’m just hanging around, you know, not really contributing but not really disrupting the status quo, either, because clearly the writers needed another female on the team but are waiting to put any effort into my character or storyline till later in the season. THEN, maybe, I can be liked.

Rory – I’m here to be sad and make angsty art, yet the writers clearly wanted me to be liked by giving me the backstory, groundwork, and sensitivity to be accepted by a discerning audience that knows better within the first three episodes of the season.

Thea – Um… I’m not really concerned with saving the city or helping out in Oliver’s absence because that would have been in character, obvs. Clearly the writers want EVERYONE IN THE FANDOM to hate me now, not just the majority of them.

Lance – I’m completely irrelevant at this point, just like they’ve made me for the last season and a half. Clearly the writers have no plan for me and no longer want me to be liked.

Felicity – I’m just happy to be here at this point, you know, in the background, condescended to like a four-year-old…OH! OH! OH! AND like four years of character development never happened! The writers clearly don’t want me to be liked anymore.

Oliver – I’m … something else. Clearly the writers don’t know what that is right now, but believe I’ll be liked nonetheless. (I think they might be wrong)

Lyla – I’m like “Who dis bitch, Oliver? She better step-off like now!” (insert evil laugh) AH HA! Actually, I’m not Lyla at all BITCHES! I’m a feeling-less cyborg that LOOKS like Lyla here to destroy any semblance of a relationship Lyla had with Felicity because clearly the writers no longer want Lyla or Felicity to be in character or liked.

Dig – I’m just here to insert an inside joke from season one. Clearly the writers thought that was enough for me to still be liked.

And there you have it. Last night’s episode in the nutshell.

Being a fan means something. It gives you purpose. It fills a hole in your heart that you can’t explain. It offers an outlet for your passions to be released. Being a part of a fandom? Well, that can make you feel right at home. A fandom is like a family. There will be different levels of involvement. Some only show up for the main events, while others show up at everything. Some will irritate you and some will become closer than you could ever imagine. Some are sane, but there’s always those nutters like your old Aunt Alma who’ve cornered the market on crazy. Regardless, through thick and thin, if you’re a fan, you are not alone.

I, myself, have been a fan of many things through the years. Being a fan of anything can be as exhilarating and joyous as it can be frustrating, tiresome, and depressing (any Cubs fan will confirm this is true). Being a fan is also an investment. Whether it’s time or finances being sacrificed for the love of the game, television show, fictional character, political ideal, etc., one’s energy is being spent in the form of unadulterated devotion. This is meaningful. THIS is a big deal. However, after watching my Twitter timeline implode like Donald Trump during this week’s debate, I question what being a fan is really all about.

There are those that go with the flow, and then there are those that go bat-shit-crazy too far. i.e. The Steve Bartman Incident. The abuse he endured was unacceptable. Sure, I wanted to ring his neck like the rest of them, but that feeling eventually went away… after a few years (no really, I’m not bitter).

So here’s the issue – no matter how die-hard you adore whatever it is you adore, there are boundaries, but where is that line? Social media has allowed us to band together more easily. No more waiting for tailgates or water cooler moments with our nearest and dearest to share our excitement. Just last night I was following the Cubs versus Dodgers NCLS Game 5 on my Twitter feed and though I couldn’t be at the game, the interactions online made me feel like I was still a part of things. I could share similar sentiments with fans 3000 miles away, and when the Cubs clinched the win, I was jumping up in down along with every other Cubbies lover there is. It was glorious.

However, social media is a fickle thing and a double edged sword. Though it’s expanded our connections beyond our backyard, it’s also taken those (sometimes quite volatile and inappropriate) conversations, once limited to your best friends or close colleagues, and allowed those thoughts to be plastered across the web for anyone to see.

I’m all for being honest, but there is such a thing as being polite. There’s decorum. There’s a general respect we should have for one another that seemingly disintegrates online. My timeline was imploding over rumors about a storyline that may or may not happen on my current favorite show (Arrow). Did Ithe rumors excite me? No. Is that how I want my favorite story to be told? No. However, I am a fan, so I won’t just give up on it. At the end of the day, that show has endeared itself to me and has me wanting the best for it and those that make it happen. That said, I’ve witnessed “fans” taking to their keyboards demanding resignations from the writers, calling for boycotts of the show, threatening the producers, applauding lower ratings and essentially giving the fandom a bad name. Remember how I said fandom is like family? Well these “fans” are like the red-headed step children in revolt. One of my biggest pet peeves is a vocal minority presumptively speaking for the whole.

Those “fans” aren’t fans in my eyes. I wouldn’t consider them pink hats, either. Take it from someone who’s team hasn’t won a World Series in 108 years … patience is a virtue. Sometimes you just have to have faith. It can’t always be pennant wins and rainbows. Sometimes it’s sucking it up for the love of the game and holding out hope that the best is yet to come. Did I want to cry in a corner when Joey was with Dawson instead of Pacey? YES. Was I disappointed Mad Men never killed Betty? YES. Do I want to pull my hair out every time Michigan loses to Ohio State? YES. But such is fan life, right? It’s not taking the smack talk I shared with my bestie over beers and publicly ridiculing those that I claim to love with it. Some conversations should be kept behind closed doors. You’re in it for the long haul or you’re not. That’s what being a real fan should be. Just because there’s a platform which allows easy engagement, doesn’t mean you should always engage. Sure, knee-jerk reactions come with the territory, but hurling insults at your favorites and decreeing “being done” isn’t. Don’t kill the fandom vibe by being the drunk idiot uncle everyone hates. Walk away. It’s ok, though I can’t say you’ll be missed.

Most people that know me know that Law & Order is my jam. Not SVU, or Criminal what have you, or any other iteration or spinoff Dick Wolf dreamt up for the purposes of expanding the brand above and beyond any creator’s wildest machinations. I’m talking about the original. The one he purposed to outlive Gunsmoke’s legacy in the annals of television history. This is a show I can watch repeatedly, love richly, and apparently one I can understand in any language.

There were two American TV shows I watched while living in Italy, both dubbed entirely in Italian. One was Life Goes On (a story for another day), the other was Law & Order. I would sit in the TV watching room in that little apartment in Arezzo tied to my home country by one thing – Jack FREAKING McCoy. His passionate closing arguments, whiskey drinking ways, the soft sweep of such a perfect head of hair, oh, and the Big Apple backdrop, had me homesick. It’s truly what kept me connected whilst over an ocean away.

Now my sister, a lawyer, has told me for years that Law & Order is not the real deal. That it is an inaccurate depiction of the way things work. For example, there are no such objections as “prejudicial”. She says all answers to the questions being objected to are in fact anticipated to be “prejudicial” which is why they are being objected to, but the bottom line is that that answer being potentially problematic for opposing counsel is not a valid reason for the formal protest. Regardless, sitting on that red futon with the cool Tuscan tile beneath my feat watching Jack McCoy passionately stand up and declare “Obiezione!!! Pregiudizievole!!!” … I understood and I felt home.

Through the years, I have put a lot of stock in my comprehension of how our judicial system works using Law & Order as my model to do so. And when I received my jury summons, I was so excited that I’d finally be able to do my civic duty by showing up, book in hand, ready to spend my day with other Atlanta area folks offering their time and life experience in service to their country. I knew I wouldn’t be picked to be on the actual jury. I mean, I wouldn’t pick me and if you’ve met me, you likely wouldn’t pick me either. I was just happy to be there with my fellow Americans, proud to see fair and balanced hard at work.

90 minutes in, I was entering the jury box and taking an oath.

Let’s just say Law & Order is was not.

to be continued …