7th Heaven's Gate

Yes, I admit it:

I have committed myself to watching the last episodes EVER of the WB's gentle juggernaut. And I will further admit that, as I choke down one saccharine scene after another, I will be hoping vainly against hope that the show goes out, not with the uplifting whimper it will, but with a big, juicy bang.

Dammit, they owe us.

Especially since that Rose whore-bag wimped out and got all righteous. ("My parents made me bad." Boo-hoo, bee-atch. Stay bad, at least for a change of pace.)

Maybe the bwonde bwothows will pull a "Redrum" and psychically manipulate each family member into killing their significant other.

Better yet, the rockin' Reverend locks the whole clan in the church, railing against the evil outside world, and goads them into a standoff with police, who finally break down the pews blocking the door only to find every last one of them toes up and leaking spiked communion wine. (Grape juice, rather. Treacly bastards.)

Fade to black...or as close as the sunny Studio City set and the blastedly sunnier show gets to dark.

Too bad it couldn't have been filmed when we lived across the block. I'd have paid to be an extra for that shoot.