One of my first television loves as an adult was CSI. I started watching it during the maiden season, and was immediately hooked. So much so that in college I would tape it every week on my VCR and watch the episodes with my man Coleman. Before this season I had seen over 95% of the episodes that had been aired since the inception of the show.
As with any good show, I loved the characters. They were all different. They all had quirks. I coveted Warrick's hair. And I felt like the show was generally smarter than I was.
But this season, something changed. Don't worry CSI. It's not you. It's me.
For whatever reason, I've lost interest in CSI. My best guess is that since it packs neither the edge-of-your-seat-pee-your-pants excitement of 24, nor the serial suspense of Heroes and Lost, it has fallen prey to the forces of my increasing need for an adrenaline rush.
So a few weeks ago as I struggled to make it through an episode, I stopped 40 minutes in. I deleted the episode. I reprogrammed the Tivo to not record the proceedings on CBS each Thursday night at 8pm Central Time. And with those few strokes, a period of my personal TV history came to a crashing end.
It was a good run CSI. Thanks for the memories.