The Handmaid’s Tale: S2E7 “After” Hot Take Recap

    • I took off Thanksgiving because I needed a break. So, to lighten my mental burden? I watched Get Out. Now I feel bad for being a man and white. Ahhhh.
    • “The world is a near post-apocalyptic nightmare. Make sure we spare no expense on wardrobe.”
    • I paused the stream to count. 31 dead. My first thought? It’s a start.
    • “I wish I could give you a world without violence.” BULLSHIT, BITCHBAG.
    • Seriously, how much of Handmaiden training is going over this pomp and circumstance? It took us 5 rehearsals to get graduation walking down.


  • In the bus. “So, ladies. Who wants to play some bridge. Too soon?”
  • Damnit. Of course Voldefred is alive. And hey! It’s Nick in his Action-Jackson suit! Someone make me an action figure.
  • Oh Luke. Please compete with Nick for least-worthy of June. Please.
  • “Welcome to Handmaid school. Upon graduation, you’ll receive your work robes, death robes, and of course… your robes for Quidditch. Psyche! There’s no joy in Gilead, bitches.”
  • Suck it, soupbitch Martha. Commander Assface wants to have a private meeting with our hero.
  • Oh, dude. We absolutely cannot trust you. At all. At all at all. At all at all at all.
  • Wait. All soupbitches are “Martha”? Are all bitchbags “Lydia”? Who wrote the rules on this crazy ass town? Oh yeah. Serena Joy and Voldefred. Nevermind.
  • I swear, Luke just makes me ill. Equally as ill as Nick, come to think of it. Both of them are literally too much. In that they are wasting oxygen. Smiling and/or brooding when they absolutely shouldn’t be.
  • So, they want us to just root for June and Moira to gay the everloving crap outta each other and make a NEW nation, right? Cause I’m shipping them so hard right now.
  • Nope. I have a six month old. That kid ain’t fresh enough for Moira’s vajayjay to be needing ice. Nice try, TV.
  • June’s eyeroll was audible. Also… What a promotion for ole’ One Eye and Road Rage!
  • Viva la revolution! I give it a week before they’re being whipped in the rain. Someone cue the whipping robes!
  • I don’t trust a damned thing Serena Joy says, does, or wants. Because, once again, she helped usher in this hilarious world of “legal” rape, torture, and kidnapping. But she’s giving June super secret documents and a pen. Is this like giving Dobby a sock? Or is this Serena’s “I’m Madame President now” Claire Underwooding?