By Chuck Wendig
It’s like this: if you’re not watching Terriers, then you have been declared an enemy of good taste. When the day comes that FX decides to cancel the show (and it’ll happen if you don’t plant your crap-can in front of the TV on Wednesday nights at 10pm), then I’m going to come to your door. And I’m going to kick you repeatedly in the crotch. No, it doesn’t matter if you’re a dude, a lady, or a dude who looks like a lady. My foot. Your crotch. End of story.
Why aren’t you watching Terriers, exactly? Let me count the ways.
Terriers is a show that occupies perhaps not the precise territory of Veronica Mars, but is definitely the show’s thematic neighbor. (Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t watch the brilliant teen detective noir that was, sniff, Veronica Mars. See earlier note, re: foot, crotch.) Is the show about scrappy, lovable detectives caught up in sinister, selfish plots way about their head? (Corrupt land developers, cancer in the ground, bad bookies.) Is the show equal parts tragic and hilarious? Are the character deeply flawed—yet utterly compelling? Does the each episode showcase that kind of hazy, sun-bleached California noir—blood, sand, and lifeguard stands? (Both shows take place in San Diego.)
Okay, no, Donal Logue is not as cute-and-pretty as Kristen Bell. But that means when he gets punched, or dragged through a shitstorm of his own creation, you’re not worried about him messing up his pretty blonde hair. Plus, this show isn’t on the CW, so they get to show some skin and say bad words like “shit” and “cock.” Who doesn’t love a little shitcock now and again?
The show has experienced a very slight uptick in the ratings. Good news, but not a home run. So, here’s the deal. You’re going to help fix that problem. Wednesday nights. 10pm. Terriers. California noir.
It is a “do not miss.”
Because if you miss it, my foot won’t miss your junk drawer.