Le le le le sigh. I really wanted to like this show, because when OG Dallas was in it’s heyday, I’d be plastered next to the television patiently awaiting what outrage J.R. Ewing would wrought, and oo-ing and ah-ing over Pam, but not Sue Ellen, because she was a drunk, bitter biotch. Bobby was hot and a good guy. Never mind that if placed 150 years in the past, the Ewings might have owned my people–I liked it anyway. It just took a bit more suspension of reality when you’re a slave descendant who traces their roots to–you guessed it–Dallas, or at least within a 20-mile vicinity.