Goodbye, Californication

“Yes we are fucking fucked, but we’ve been fucked before. In the ass, legs pinned behind our ears, not a drop of lube – but we always come out smiling. You know why? Because that’s just the kind of happy-go-lucky sluts we are.”

Seriously, if there was an equivalent for grunge music in television, that’s definitely gotta be Californication: many loved it for all the wrong reasons, few grasped the idea behind it and fewer think it’ll live forever although Hank Moody is done. Plus, it’s totally hardcore, in a very fucked up yet sweet way.

Also, it painted beautiful images with nothing but sheer vulgarity and depravation. It was raw, it was authentic, it was awesome at describing the crappy.

And yeah, it should have ended in all its former glory, but got shittier with time instead. But doesn’t life too? Many bad twists could’ve been avoided if someone only gave the central character the superpower to just say ‘no’. The new plots just bored us to death and made us squirm in pain remembering the good times. But doesn’t life too?

Californication was really about continuity and breakdowns, and continuity regardless of breakdowns. It was about going on without hope of a happy ending, because little is better than nothing. It was about that beautiful LA and its endless boulevards framed with palm trees. It was about rock’n’roll. It was Pearl Jam, Led Zeppelin, Nirvana, The Doors, Marilyn fuckin’ Manson and The Rolling Stones, who taught us about love and how you can’t always get what you want. It was about dear Karen. And at some point, it was about us.

Goodbye, motherfucker.

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