Last Tuesday, the Giants lost, I screwed up my VCR and I missed both Gilmore Girls and Smallville, so it was a bit of a bust for me.

On Sunday, the Giants really lost for good, but I managed to fix my clocks in time to catch Smallville on the WB's Easy View, so it was kind of a wash.

Well, no, not really. I fought back the cruel tears of a broken-hearted fan to watch the tape, and didn't really get much for it. But I have to say, the Easy View programming concept is brilliant. I'm getting hooked on Everwood, which otherwise is on against Raw; now that the WWE sucks like so many starving vampires, I've got a viewing alternative, albeit one with Treat Williams.

But enough about me, let's talk about Clark. And Lana. Again. Ad infinitum.

Lana at least starts out still mad at Clark, not least because he doesn't appreciate poetry. A secret admirer named Byron left her a love-letter-poem on her parents' gravestone in the middle of the night, so honestly I can't entirely blame Clark for being jealous and suspicious.

Byron's got a big secret, of course, and it's only a mildly glowy-green one. His parents keep him locked in the basement because when exposed to light, he turns into a super-strong monster boy. (Like I said, mildly glowy-green; his skin gets a faint green cast to it, which led Fanboy reader David Busby to wonder if he'd just seen the Hulk. No further reference to the meteor rocks is made or inferred, which as much as I bitched about them last season, made the eventual explanation seem truncated somehow. I must be accustomed to the crutch.)

His parents aren't that nice about it either, preferring to use a shotgun, shackles and heavy locks to keep him there, and although he knows about the risks of his own condition, he's awfully sulky about it. Though he just may be sulky because he's a Tortured Sensitive Ponytail Guy with Redneck Parents Who Don't Understand Those Durned Books.

Said redneck father is played, all-too-briefly, by Richard Moll, and he brandishes his shotgun with great authority. When Clark and Lana bring the police to the house, suspecting that Byron is being abused, he pulls the old urban legend out and claims that his son has been dead for years.

Actually, Byron has been legally dead for years, ever since he participated in a medical trial to treat "anti-social behavior." The trial medication resulted in death for so many of the other participants that his parents and physician decided to fake his death and keep him out of the light instead.

Clark and Pete come to Byron's rescue, but it's ill-advised, and they learn about his super strength. It was a nice attempt at a shocking swerve, but it fell a bit flat. Clark needs to really learn that rescuing people can't always be his choice, but this didn't drive that lesson home very well.

It's a cut-and-dried subplot, leading more to Lana's tentative forgiveness of Clark's overprotectiveness than a budding romance with Byron. It also intertwines with the other subplot for a hurried, lackluster climax.

Martha Kent takes a job as Lionel Luthor's personal assistant, which doesn't please Jonathan or Lex at all. When it's revealed that LuthorCorp was behind those medical trials, Byron chooses to come after Lionel's helicopter, mostly so Clark can rescue them, save him, and they can both show off their powers in front of Ma and the blind man.

It wasn't much, and served only to make the entire series take a giant step back from earlier developments. Clark and Lana, Lana and Clark, Clark and Lana. Moving away from the meteor rocks was a good idea, but only if the plots are going to go in the same direction, rather than just be watered down versions of Season One's episodes.

I can't say Season Two has really captured my heart or my mind, but I'm still here. Which is more than I can say for baseball season, so go Crows. Caw Caw.

Sarah Stanek