Friday, September 17, 2010

Dangerously Addicted to Dexter.

Does Dexter have a soul? Do you?

I closed at work today which translates to:
"I was forced to stand behind a faded red-orange countertop and read magazines while waiting for customers." I do that until 10 and naturally, the customers never show up and today I didn't mind it at all. Since I already read the BIEBER FEVER and NICKI MINAJ WEEKLY magazines, I picked up
a copy of the latest Psychology Today issue. I'm glad there weren't any customers because I wasn't about to look up from my reading to help them count their cockroach infested energy drink cans. Inside, there was an article about fast food and how a quarter of americans DEPEND on it. God, America's disgusting. (I can't remember the last time I had fast food. But I can tell you that it had to do with BK breakfast.) I liked the magazine so much that I looked up the website when I got home and to my surprise I found an article about DEXTER. {} I was instantly sent off into a frenzy and once I saw that there were count
less books about the show and books from which the show originated from, I bought close to all of them. Next next step was going to the author of the Dexter books' website and found an article about how even though Jeff Lindsay is the man that created good ol' Dex, he barely gets any recognition. He claims that it's okay but I think it's ridiculous.

Dexter and Me by Jeff Lindsay

My mother called me one night two years ago. "Well," she said. "Now I know you've really made it."

"Oh, really?" I said. "What do you mean?"

"I'm watching Jeopardy," she said. "The answer to the last question was, 'Who is Dexter?'"

A few nights later, my sister called. "You were just on Nancy Grace," she said.

"I was?" I said, very surprised. It didn't seem like the kind of thing I would forget. "You mean me?"

"No, not you," she snorted, as if I should have known better that someone like me would never be on Nancy Grace. "Dexter. Somebody's foot washed up on a beach, and she called it a real-life Dexter moment."

And then a few weeks later my agent called. "Did you hear what they named the new robot arm for the space shuttle?" he


"Let me guess," I said.

"It's iconic," my agent said. "That's a good thing."

And it is. Dexter is iconic. But as my sister was smart enough to pick up on, I am not. I think this is a good thing. I worked in Hollywood for a dozen years, and all I can say about it is that the primitive tribes who think the camera steals your soul were really on to something. So I don't want to be instantly recognizable—not Tom Cruise famous, not even Stephen King famous.

On the other hand, if Dexter wants fame, that's fine with me. He deserves it: he's a fine, upstanding, hardworking guy who is good with kids, thoughtful to co-workers, and helpful around the house. And if he slips away now and then for a little bit of human vivisection—well, nobody's perfect.

I will admit, though, that lately I've begun to suffer what may be the world's first Edgar Rice Burroughs Complex. Like Burroughs' Tarzan, my character is known all over the world, and I am still anonymous. That takes some getting used to, even though there are perks. It has given me some wonderful moments—like riding into Times Square in a taxi and seeing Dexter 60 feet tall on the side of the building. "Have you seen that program?" the driver asked me.
"I don't watch much TV," I said, even though I was staring like a school boy at a peep show.

"There are books, too," he said.

And there are. I hope you will like them
. They make wonderful gifts, too. Even better, Nancy Gra
ce and Alex Trebek will never have to see me sweat.
The man is a genius and he deserves SO much credit. THANK YOU JEFF LINDSAY. YOU ARE AWESOME. I cannot wait until Season 5 starts.

No comments:

Post a Comment