So That’s What Was Up With Jenny Picolo

I don’t sleep well; I find myself awake at odd times of the night. It’s not so bad with cable TV and the rich palate of fine programming sponsored by the somewhat predatory substance abuse treatment industry. Really, what is sad about television in the middle of the night is that even though there are seven uncensored movie networks the best viewing options are ten year old reruns of ‘My So Called Life’. I’ve watched them all now twice over. I’m desensitized to Angela’s wistful aloofness. Jordan Catalono’s ignorance ceases to amuse. I no longer feel sorry for Ricky. I’d probably do Reyanne but once and lie about it. Brian Krackow has become tedious with his insecurities.

Frankly, the only character on the show who isn’t a train wreck is Tino. How richly developed is this character. Never shown, never heard from, his total existence is defined by whispers and allegations. Everyone seems to know Tino. Everyone owes him a favor. But what do we really know about Tino for sure? Every thing is told second hand. Tino’s entire life is revealed to us in anecdote, one giant game of Telephone. Everything we learn about Tino is narrated to us.

What kind of guy is Tino? Tino drives you home for curfew. Tino holds your hair back when you drink to much. Tino can get you a fake ID. Tino moves through all circles orchestrating the party or protecting the social order. Tino initiated a campaign of targeted assassinations and immediately all enemy activity in his sector dropped off completely. Tino killed the three other assassins that Comsec sent before me.

Tino is Cornel Kurtz.