When I die, I want to go peacefully like my Grandfather did, in his sleep - not screaming, like the passengers in his car. This was me, screaming to the end of an episode of "Cry Wolfe" because I couldn't find fresh batteries for my remote so I could change the channel or better yet, turn it off. Sobriety has done me no favours. Watching Mr. Wolfe try to solve crimes is akin to watching a mentally handicapped person attempting to solve the "The Gaussian Integral" in mathematics. I think that the show has to be some type of hoax, with Mr. Wolfe perpetuating a grand and hilarious joke on the inebriated viewers who just don't have the gumption or manual dexterity to change channels. This joke will be revealed in the second season which ID has now picked up. So, stay tuned to more of Mr. Wolfe and his cringeworthy skills and expertise as a top rate communicator, a Private Dick, and more importantly, a general Dick.
