"I'm not even fully kidding when I say this; it's actually become a postmodern masterpiece. They started painting a really beautiful, dark, rather extensive mural in an original style that combined many familiar techniques. When they were seemingly almost finished, they suddenly started covering the whole thing with graffiti, painting a huge crass c*ck and balls over it, and are now about to finish it by urinating on the wall in an homage to Duchamp.
One can study it as such; it could've been a complete, beautiful work. Never close to flawless perhaps, but certainly unique and worthwhile. Now, the art of it is in studying one's own reaction to Dexter's gradual drift toward complete dull inanity. What does investment mean to us? How does it affect each of us when storytellers stray from the original pact they've made with the audience? How and why do I react when a character that initially grabbed my interest gets perverted, or worse hollowed out so that I completely lose my investment and interest at just the stages when his ultimate destiny is to be revealed?
There's some food for thought, and these cats in Dexter's writing room roll deep, son.
Or, it's just incomprehensibly stupid. Couldn't really give a beep at this point."
Je pense que cette personne a tout compris.