- “There probably is no out”. And there it is kids. Season over!
- This is like Walter White’s vacation in the great white north. Except Robert Forster is just an old handyman. And June isn’t a meth kingpin. OK, this is nothing like Breaking Bad. Shut up.
- OK, the Handyman’s “After a while, crocodile” sold me. He’s my new god.
- Seriously. Are all college classes in TV and Movies either COMPLETELY CHOCKED FULL or sparsely filled by nerds and assholes?
- ACK! TWISTY THE CLOWN! Err. Wait. No… Just another railroaded liberal. And a GAY one to boot!
- A lot of world building this episode. Figuratively and literally.
- A requiem for a newspaper. A 1 act play wherein June mourns the written word, the dead, and decides to publish her own zine. (If I don’t make my own jokes here, I’m going to go insane of sadness.)
- “You and our baby”. Vomit, Nick. But hey. He gave her a gun!
- I’m sorry. Two guns. I’m starting to feel bad for actual husband. Sorta. He’s a bit of a dweeb. I’m stalling while the dead-eyed weirdo boinks the pregnant chick. I’m hella-uncomfortable.
- Sweet Christmas. That’s enough with the freeing sex, kids!
- It’s just my Hulu, but the first ad after all that sex was for White Castle, and I seriously vurped.
- So how does one get to be a cattle prodder? “Well, in my other life, I worked at the DMV.” SOLD!
- An MFA in interior design? It’s JUST as useful working in the wasteland.
- Somewhere, a Trump supporter watching this show has a hard-on when they deny the marriage license of a gay couple that is “no longer recognized”. And I’d like THAT person to be sent to the wasteland.
- OH DAYUM, GINA. College Prof gots lady balls. Suck it, house frau!
- If I lived in this world, and had faith previously? It hath been smoted by meow.
