Soap Opera Weekly: Blogging With Mala

Okay, OLTL, I give up. Uncle. I surrender. Resistance is futile. I’m on board with the Ford brothers.

I know what you’re all thinking: “Wait, WHAT?! Mala, you were doing so well with your seething hatred!” But, dude, it’s been like fighting a war of attrition day in and day out. Just like how, every day, Ford is a little less clothed…every day, a little of my wall crumbles. I am tired of building it back up again with “I miss Kish and Schuyler” bricks, tired of fighting the inevitable. Because you just know when abusive Ford Daddy, Eddie, hits town, the “feel sorry for the Fords, love the Fords” indoctrination will be in overdrive. So, I’m throwing in the towel in advance. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. Just call this post “Dr. Strangelove: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Fords.”

I can honestly blame my downfall on James. I knew I was in trouble when I started admitting to people that I had a “favorite Ford” — or at least one I didn’t mind as much as the rest. As much as James calling Starr “Twinkle,” is a bit twee, Nicolas Robuck really plays him as a likable, solid teen, and I enjoy his chemistry with everyone he interacts with…particularly Kristen Alderson. I’m not as sold on Nate, or the Nate and Dani romance, but I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that Dani is a brand-new character, too…so seeing two newbies involved is a tough sell. Additionally, Lenny Platt just reads so much older than Kelley Missal that I keep wanting to call the cops whenever they’re onscreen together. (Nate and Danielle should, clearly, double date with DAYS’ Philip and Melanie.) He has a lot of gravitas and maturity, and, much of the time, I have to remind myself that Nate’s the youngest, not the oldest. Which leads me to Bobby. Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. How do I loathe thee, let me count the ways! I think I’ve waxed poetic many times before about how this character should never have graduated from beyond a sight gag. The whole Langston storyline gave me hives, and my memory is not so short that I’m buying the romantic redux. It’s gross. What he did to Jessica was even more despicable. No amount of softening Ford’s hairstyle and giving him a mom who looks like his sister (or his girlfriend) is going to make me see him as a hero.

HowEVER — and this is where I knew I was a goner — I’ll be damned if Ford’s not incredibly funny. I mean, this past week, while he was inexplicably shirtless in the hospital, he was cracking me up. As James worriedly clucked over Ford coughing up blood, David Gregory‘s line delivery was priceless. “Thanks, I was there,” he deadpanned. I found myself griping, “Stop it!” at the TV. Only, I didn’t really want him to stop it. I wanted him to keep saying snarky things.

And that’s how I got to this moment. Call it Stockholm Syndrome, call it desperation, but I have dropped my rifle, thrown up the white flag and acknowledged the sovereignty of the Ford Nation.

You win, OLTL!

 

originally posted on soapoperaweekly.com

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