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Sundays Are Olivia Munn-days
I don’t care it’s not TV, it’s HBO. I don’t care about Aaron Sorkin, despite the fact that I really, really enjoyed The Social Network. The only reason I’m still watching The Newsroom is because of Olivia Munn. The only reason you are watching The Newsroom is either because you are a masochist, you are one of those people who have to see things through, or you’re just like me, you enjoy lusting after the aforementioned Olivia Munn.
I could get into why The Newsroom sucks monkeynuts, but I’d rather leave that to the dozens of TV recappers all over the Internets. I rather debate whether or not this muck of a show is helping or hurting Ms. Munn’s career. From model to G4 correspondent/comic book guys’ muse to HBO Sunday Night actress is a more than admirable career trajectory. Hell, it’s a hell of an accomplishment. The only problem is the small waves of dread that washes over viewers as they willingly subject themselves to the ridiculous dialogue and banter that is the root of The Newsroom. Why does everybody have to have Bill Maher’s drippy-drip sarcasm and Jimmy Fallon quick-wit and delivery? I understand a TV news station is filled with very smart people, and I’m sure a lot of those smart people are capable of delivering a joke or possess the ability to quip with the best of them. But everybody? The security guard is smarter than you and me, and would be an able fill-in for David Letterman. Shit like this makes this show incredibly unbearable despite the cast of talented actors and rich potential it possesses. Instead I’m forced to hope and pray that there is a scene that calls for Olivia Munn’s character (I’m so partially disengaged I have no idea what her character’s name is) to get out of her pencil skirt into something to remind me that this mactress was a model in her previous life accustomed to being in various stages of undress.
It is the Monday following the Sunday Season 3 premier of The News Room and I’ve yet to watch the episode. I’m patiently waiting for noon to hit to indulge, as I know a good, stiff drink will help get me through the sixty minutes of fuckery. The garnish is my drink will be the too few and far between Olivia Munn scenes.