Rose's Cantina

It could have been worse. I fully expected the finale of House to include a musical dittie starring all the team members, living and dead, narrated by Neil Patrick Harris. It seemed to be going there. Thankfully, David Shore resisted the temptation and pulled it out in the end. Still. I found the ending to be ponderous, self-serving, a cheesy riff on what hell must look like for a guy who has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Bringing back the old cast members wasn't a bad idea except for the notable absence of the most pivotal of players -- Lisa Edelstein. If Wilson was House's conscience, then Cuddy was House's foil for all years but this one. Cuddy would have done a terrific job hectoring House about his failings, but that, unfortunately, was left to Cameron who couldn't quite get it done through her starry-eyed worship of the man. The finale reminded me a bit of the so-disappointing ending of Six Feet Under, and it's no wonder. Fox has been running ...

There is word today that House has been cancelled. Woe is we. For years, House was Monday night must-see tv for millions of fans. My son Nick even  has all the DVDs, which he watches over and over again. Dr. House made Vicadin a Household name. His life was a cautionary yet seductive tale about adventures with prescription medication. He proved some people can't lick addiction, which made the whole thing a lot more real for those of us in the ugly know. But how we loved to see him squirm and writhe in pain like a rattler. How we loved to know the man with no scruples. But House changed and that's why people stopped watching. I blame Cuddy for his demise. Once he got her blouse off, he became a simpering wet, a puppy dog in love. We hated Cuddy and her perky double D's for that. It's always a woman that takes down a great man, now isn't it? Because of Cuddy, our House is no longer our Home.