I just finished Veronica Mars at lunch. A really good TV show. (Seasons 1 and 2 better than 3, though it perked up.) Imagine Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe reincarnated as a petite blonde walking the mean hallways of Neptune High, a town with no middle class, just millionaires and the little people who work for millionaires... maid, gardener... Veronica gets to be a barrista. And a precocious private eye. There's a Buffy flavor to the teen setting and snappy dialogue and it's funny, but this cup of Joe is strictly non-fat-non-vamp, an expresso-dark detective show, with an extra shot of class consciousness and nihilism.
Veronica is tough enough to handle it. But, as her BFF Wallace points out:
"You really think I'm gonna let you get away with that? That might play with the masses, but underneath that angry young woman shell, there's a slightly less angry young woman who's just dying to bake me something. You're a marshmallow, Veronica Mars. A Twinkie."
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