potatoradio

Finally, somebody gets me. Where were you when I tried using "demented in a good way" on eHarmony? Agreed. I can't recall any other teevee show hyping itself as the weekly emotional trigger/tearjerk release of a lifetime. I'm curious to see how far they can get on hype and promotion without, say, actually writing a quality show with nuanced storylines and complex characters. If your coworkers are any indication, we could be here a while. About the car. Jack Sees Things (except impending infernos and bottles of shampoo) I watched this and decided I needed to stop at my credit union and get some money, Jack Pearson style. I loaded up the family in my old car. Here's how it went: Teller: You can’t withdraw $1M dollars. You have $0.49 in your account Me: Let’s talk. You see those cats out in your lobby, shredding your promotional brochures? You see that pet python twining around that fake ficus on the corner and the turtle eating your salad? You see that woman blithely smiling and watching all the ruckus because it’s oh fer cute? That’s my wife. Those are my animal children. And I need them to be OK. I see them being OK. With a million dollars. My name is potatoradio and thus, I have spoken. Teller: (sobbing and throwing money at me) I always wanted a pet python, but I’m a lowly clerk with a string of Saturday nights eating takeout and watching reruns of Family Matters. My life is complete just seeing your family destroy the place. How would you like your bills? Nope, didn’t happen like that. Maybe it’s because, unlike Milo and his Goopy Hair, I don’t talk like a D-list Rocky Balboa impersonator to show I’m one with the working class. Yo, KatieGurrrl! Anyway, Jack gets a new car because car salesmen have never, ever heard a sob story about making the little woman and those precious kids happy. Those precious kids who pile into the showroom car screaming like they’re being stalked by a syphilis-stricken circus clown? Oh, yeah, they deserve nothing but a new car. So, I’m just going to say that Mel totally swindled Jack by taking the sticker price down fifty bucks and then slapping on a 14% interest charge and Jack struts out of there thinking he’s the man and it’s a good thing he dies before Rebecca realizes the financial ruin he has wrought. Don’t disappoint me, Mel. And please, God, don’t show up at the funeral later unless it’s to repossess the car, OK? And god knows, the family needs to be safe driving over a bridge to see Weird Al in concert because somehow all three kids have The Gene for terrible taste in music . Oh well. Hot Dad’s got the cure for Rebecca’s nerves – everyone sing Weird Al! Because, well, maybe it’s better if Rebecca just opened the door and jumped off the damn bridge. I bet Tess would have. I surely would. Meanwhile, I have to Google “Lasagne” because I can’t remember that parody and nothing pierces my feels like worrying that I can’t remember things. It’s a real parody, so why can’t any of these people sing it so that I recognize it as “La Bamba?” I thought Kate was a singer? I thought they were into this shit? Oh, but hey! The traffic breaks up. OK, I guess the Pearsons are useful for showing up and magically parting traffic. (black and white, “before” infomercial lighting): Are you feeling scared out of your mind about a possible cancer diagnosis? Don’t want to remain in a waiting room or risk inefficient technologies like pagers? Now, you don’t have to! Not if you’re Rebecca Pearson and married to St. Greasefire! (bright, full color, “after” infomercial lighting): Introducing…the random tree! Sure, it looks like an ordinary hickory on the outside, but because St. Jack has parked his new car there and proclaimed that Rebecca will be OK, this tree knows shit now. Don’t lose your chance to buy a ticket to the next pilgrimage to Random Tree. Order now and we’ll include a cutting room floor scene, never seen before, of St. Jack sitting down with the doctor and saying, “Let’s talk. I see that lab result being negative. I see it, because my wife needs to be OK.” Doctor: “Well, crap, I guess I didn’t need to go to med school to learn to diagnose and heal. Why didn’t you say something, you ass, before we ran this expensive test? Oh well, your bankruptcy, Rocky.” Time for Randall’s driving lesson. Fight with Kevin because Kevin says Randall is a dork (Kevin did not inherit the Gene that would enable him to see Hot Dad in the future. As usual, it sucks to be Kevin). Brake slam. Ruh-roh. Jack.Is.Pissed. He sees Vietnam or something. Oh, snap, Jack, this is the first time I’ve liked you! Get out and walk the five blocks home, you ungrateful cretins! Yeah! Meanwhile, Jack has to apparently open the hood of the car and start wiping random things down. Engines get very dirty when you slam on brakes. Anyway, Kevin and Randall look nervous and they should be. Now Jack’s a-gonna mansplain a few things about brotherhood and ‘Nam. Jack’s gonna tell it like it is, that he had a no-good dad and a mom who…died? Went into witness protection? Well, whatever, she sucked,too. Kevin and Randall send silent prayers to be smote by lightning to get out of this sermon on the oil spill. Kate is skipping school. How Jack knows this, I don’t know, because I think Rebecca would get the call and Jack is supposed to be at work, but he apparently prefers to drive his new car around drinking coffee all the damn time. Anyway, they get to talking about music and Kate says that Alanis (I always thought it was pronounced “Al-lah-niss” but what do I know, I was a retro ABBA freak before it was cool) is a good singer because her music…well, it’s like it tells a story. HOLY SHIT, CALL ROLLING STONE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!! Do they know this about music? If it’s a story you want, Kate, I highly recommend Roxette, which seems more your speed.: Fire in the ice Naked to the t-bone Is a lover's disguise Banging on the head drum Shaking like a mad bull She's got the look Now that’s a story. Anyway, Jack mansplains what music really is by popping in a Springsteen tape and activates a huge pet peeve of mine. Nothing like telling someone about a song, or teevee show or movie that you like only to have them say, “oh, but if you want to listen/watch something REALLY good? Try this…” Guaranteed way to make me hate whatever you foist on me. Hey! The show gave me a feelzies, But anyway, Springsteen is always the exception because, unlike Jack, he truly does get the working class and also washes his hair. Funeral. Kevin is mad because nobody cares about Kevin and he doesn’t get the watch. Kate is a hateful little troll who now wants to make an innocent dog go through a re-homing because she can’t deal with irony in real life. Fucking poser. Oh, here comes kindly old white man doctor. Come here, Rebecca. I’ll mansplain that lemonade cliché again. Rebecca says, “I know that story already. Make lemonade. Blah blah.” I am half hoping that he’ll say, “yeah, I know, these writers are lazy as shit, aren’t they?” Or maybe he’ll say something about teaching her kids to make lemonade and say, keep the damn dog and shut the hell up about material possessions. Nope. Sweet lemonade. That’s the ticket. Just add more sugar. Diabetes and cavities are worth it. Thanks for nothing, old man. Now go away. Anyway, the funeral must really suck because Rebecca pulls out the kids before half the people have left. They go to the Random Tree instead. Jack’s ashes immediately kill the tree and a rabid squirrel drops onto Kate’s head and bites off her scalp….sigh. No, they pile in The Car and Rebecca drives across the bridge all by herself (you’re a big girl now!) and nobody even has to sing to her. Again, I’d recommend Roxette. “Must have been love…but it’s oooveerr now.” It’s also pitch black, which makes me wonder if the Boss is putting on a special midnight concert because Pearsons. Stay tuned. Next week, Random Tree Tells All, perhaps? Oh, noooooooo!!!! It's Jack in Vietnam. His story is "only beginning." Why God, why? So, you've watched the Ken Burns special and seen Platoon and Born on the Fourth of July and Full Metal Jacket and read The Things They Carried and Vietnamerica and visited the Vietnam Memorial and think you've been moved? Oh, hellz, no, Milo wants an Emmy, too! It's Jack in Vietnam, bitches! His brother's gonna DIE. And, after, if you go online, you can watch Milo and the cast react as the Vietnam Memorial has a very special name added to it: Brother Pearson. Milo will rub his hair grease into his face to erase the tear tracks and maximize his Emmy chances and there will be a march in D.C. to protest the Vietnam war all over again because it's giving a Pearson the sadz. This is so not gonna be OK. Bring it on, show. Your non-complaint lab rat awaits.

I saw it as a RANDALL'S FAMILY THINKS HE'S ADORKABLE anvil. However, I am cracking up thinking of the more gallows humor interpretation, especially considering that he was hopping around as though he were on fire. Is that part of the celebration? OK! We're all on FIRE! Whee! The writers would probably pass out at that interpretation, though. Which is good. Because Jack needs the oxygen. I double dog dare you to ask your water-cooler co-workers their opinion, though. ;)

You win. Bigly. Dying over here... I wish! Thank you. :) (Don't) Stop, (Don't) Drop, and Grab Your Boxsprings! Neighbor (peering out the window and seeing the Pearson's house on fire): Honey? Call 9-1-1. Jack's hair started a grease fire. Honey: Oh, we don't need to call professionals. Jack's such a good egg. He'll stomp down the flames barefoot and make a game of it for the kids. Neighbor: But honey, our house could burn down, too. Honey: Don't be so selfish! It'll get us an in with Pearsons! We'll show up at some random store when one of the kids is having a crisis and wisely say, 'I know life is hard now. But sometimes, when your house burns down because your neighbor is an idiot and a martyr, you get a chance to see fire up close and smell the smoke and that's when you realize that you may as well die because you'll never be as good as Jack." Neighbor: Wouldn't want to miss that. OK, well, good luck, Pearsons. See you in a flashforward. Meanwhile, as flames billow up the staircase and somehow don't make doors too hot to touch, St. Jack opens his bedroom door and stands there like Drew Barrymore in Firestarter (should totally be watching that instead, by the way). Rebecca! Quick! Shut yourself in the bathroom! Plunge your head in the toilet! No, that totally makes sense, trust me. Don't call 9-1-1. Don't say, "Fuck if you're going to be the only one getting sainthood credit. You get Kate. I'll get Randall." Nope. Stand there and scream-cry, I love you, babe! Kids, remember that lesson you heard from Fire Safety Day? Stop Drop and Roll? Yeah, pay no attention to that. When your dad walks through fire and opens your door and tells you that we Pearsons don't let a little inferno stop us, you follow him right into the hall, OK? Young Kate is suddenly more than sullen - now she's terrified! The range of emotion in that child...anyway, no matter. St. Jack picks up a magical set of box springs to shield them! And it's too bad he dies because I want to hire him as a mover. Anytime I've moved, those damn box springs take at least two hours, a broken back and fractured fingers to wedge around a corner, and that's without a fire raging in the hall. Anyway, Kevin? He's at a party. Are you sure? Yes. OK, then. I'm not a parent, but I think I'd want a little more reassurance than that. Maybe Kevin got dumped, got drunk, and slunk back home. Maybe he saw the note and left you one in return. ilovesophieforever and ihateeveryoneelse fuk you all youllbesorry someday isucktoo world hurts goodnite. Someone, somehow, has tied about a million sheets together in perfect knots and St. Jack has been busy learning how to repel down a burning house, prison-break style. Finally, sirens. Somebody doesn't want the whole damn street burning down. Miraculously, there are no neighbors gawking or gathering or anything. When a house down the street from ours burned down, I swear it was like a block party. People can't help this shit. Anyway, back you go, Jack, go get the dog, save your mementos and maybe double-check Kevin's room. As your family stands screaming for Emmy attention, visit not one, but two burning bedrooms, power up a VCR and eject a tape, paw through your wife's jewelry and find her necklace that you bought her for being an ass, collect a few pictures, and please don't bother with any documents like, say, birth certificates or whatnot. Those will be collected by the firefighters, one of whom was the firefighter who found baby Randall and was going to retire, but had to have one more fire to put out. That lucky guy. In any other universe, the entire family would be taken to the hospital, because last I checked, they were ALL inhaling smoke and in shock, but no, let's get the kids to Rebel Fighter #11's house (oh, Jack...babe...you didn't get my purse and car keys, did you? Oh, of course, you're going to hotwire our car or push us over there) and then we'll get to the hospital. Because who can afford an ambulance ride when you have to buy a new house and a new crockpot and send 3 kids to college? Problems, amirite? *Hospital* This is Mandy. Mandy wants an Emmy. Watch closely....there, see her looking blank? No, that's not boredom, you heartless troll, that's shock. OK, here we go with the collapse against the wall and the screaming "Jack." Yes, you've seen that a million times on Grey's Anatomy or ER or other medical show, but this is a Pearson, damn it. Now, she has to deal with REbel Fighter #11. She has to kick him out of his house (if he's such a useless schmuck, I'd question why I left my kids there, but OK) so she can be strong. Totally expecting a #Beckstrong trend like when Meredith Grey was shot at, beaten up, being shocked back to life, etc. Mandy lies down next to her kids and closes her eyes, telegraphing GIVE ME A DAMN EMMY with every millimeter of eyelash. *To be honest, I really did think the writers were wise to have Jack die unexpectedly in the hospital. I appreciated being spared the ultraheavyweight anvil of seeing him disappear into the hellfire. Where are they now? Randall is juiced up and bouncing around singing "hot dad!" I am embarrassed for SKB but see, he has to show that he's just like Jack with his optimism, so you go, SKB. A bunch of bored women/girls (because I guess they have no women friends with kids who like the Superbowl?) show up and, oops, oh snap, the new pet lizard gets killed because Randall needs an excuse for a speech. Tess leaves (god damn, girl, getting my hopes up again that you're done with all this BS) because she's the only one with any sense and the rest of the crowd goes back to being bored. The lizard deserved better. Kate is still an emotional shut in and a drag, but she's realized that TobeBabe (see the subtle there? Both mother and daughter call their man 'babe,' like the Yoplait commercial bitch. So touching) has rebuilt her esteem and made her believe in herself, just like St. Jack. Nevermind that TobeBabe came up to her and said, "you're gorgeous! Let's have SEX!" Who can think about that when there are so many other code red flags popping up? I can't tell whether the look on TobeBabe's face is horror or hunger. But this isn't about TobeBabe anyway. This is about Kate's feeling badly about herself and her dream of finding a man who will make her feel like a princess. Because, what thirtysomething woman with any bit of self reliance or maturity doesn't want someone to scream at them how beautiful they are and how wonderful on a daily basis while she sits and mopes? Hawt. Moving. Kevin sits under a tree and says he sucks because he's not as good at sobriety as St. Jack. Kevin, don't you know that AA rewrote its program in Jack's honor? Just give it up. It's still all about Jack. It will always be. Your life is going to feel very, very long. Rebecca kicks kindly, nice Fighter #11 out of the house. On Superbowl Sunday. Is he at the Cantina again? Hope he finds a lovely alieness to watch the game with. Jesus. Deja vu. Deja of magazine beatings is back. Lucky for her the fridge is full of leftovers from the Superbowl party because everyone was desperate to leave. Oh, grown up Tess. Hey, who's in for firing the writers of this dreck and giving Tess a spin off show? Maybe one without Hot Dad bouncing around making everything about him and his dead fathers? Anyway, next week is all about the car. Does it talk? Does it turn into Christine and mow down Deja's mother so that Deja can turn into the first female football player to win a superbowl ring? Don't know when I can recover from theeze feelz enough to watch....

Ep: Clooney Re-Title: Nothing says I Need Therapy More than My Brother Than Asking Random People Whether They Were Gettin’ Busy with my Dead Dad Oh, shit, I AM going to cry. It’s a goddamned Sarah Mclaughlin ASPCA commercial. Look, it’s a homeless cat who needs your help for pennies a day or he’s going to die…oh. Hi, William. That is cheap, show, using animals to stab me in the feelz when your human writers and actors fail to do so. Randall suddenly gets obsessed with finding out who his dad’s lady friend might have been. What’s he going to do if he finds out? Read the poem to her? Because, let me tell you, if a kid of a love affair showed up on my doorstep and read me a poem my lover had written? Hello, 911, there’s a man on my doorstep demanding that I cry. No, not because the poem is a first draft that my lover clearly wasn‘t ready to give me him/herself, but because this crazy dude needs something to do to fix his juices. I mean, no, I wasn’t at the funeral. I didn’t even send a condolence card or try to get in touch, but goddamned, I’m supposed to bawl on command now. I bet Jesse might like the poem, though. He was actually there with William. But no, that would be weird. Wow, I really need more of Randall's knack for running into perfect strangers who know just the thing to say or do to resolve my emotional crisis du jour. If it's not the hardware store worker, it's the good hearted blue collar super who knows EXACTLY what William spent his days doing and leads Randall to find the exact source of the poem himself. Why doesn't the bus driver or clerk at the grocery store ever do this shit for me? This is Audio. We found him in a Trader Joe’s parking lot. Can you blame him for loving the Very Important Music that plays in Trader Joe’s parking lots? We were going to call him Trash or Dumpy or Moving Compost Beast, but we thought those were stupid. When William’s neighbor said that a cat always finds a person that needs it, I got up and hugged my sweet little cat who I found under a dumpster. Or maybe she found me. Anyway, yeah, I cried. There. Happy, show? Good, because she wasn't. She wanted to play instead. There may have been more amazing Pearson bonding I was supposed to pay attention to, but I all I really cared about was seeing the cat get fed and Audio find a home, even if Kate is going to have to eat buckets of KFC to get through the ordeal. Anyway: Spay and neuter your pets and support your local animal shelter. Ep: That'll be the Day Re-Title: My Daddy Got Burned up by a Crock Pot. What’s Your Excuse? Oh good lord. First of all – I’m told (wife again) that CrockPot issued a statement that said their product would not cause fires. Why? Because apparently the hysterical feeling masses started shit on social media about Save Jack, Ban a Crock Pot! Folks. Even I know this is NOT crock pot’s fault. It’s Rebecca’s. She forgot the damn batteries for the smoke detectors at the mall. They SHOWED the ominous dangling cord from the detector – weren’t you paying attention? Plus, if she hadn’t been so nice and so enthusiastic about accepting some random and faulty kitchen junk as a gift – Jack (and more importantly, perhaps the dog)would be alive. She could have said, “oh, hellz, no, I’m not falling for that ‘wonky switch’ ploy. There’s a microphone in there, right? For spying? Yeah, get off my Wayward Pines porch, you sad old buzzard!” Anyway. They go to the mall! Yay mall! Cue Robin Sparkles from How I met Your Mother: “Let’s go to the mall!” Apparently, Rebecca is such an evil Holly Hobbie twin that she asks St. Jack to remind her to buy batteries (at the cute little kiosk by Bright World Candle). The hell? Rebecca, goddamn it, you haven’t heard of a piece of paper? St. Jack has to get ready to impress his boss at his terrible job that he hates so you can sit around and NOT SING. Got it? Jeez. Oh, wait….Jack’s gonna start his career! He’s gonna do it! Oh my god, the irony! The feelz! He’s been suffering so long…oh, my god, I need to go the mall myself and get some Kleenex! I’m out! Yay, I was really missing the epic love story of Sophie and Kevin. And Kate appeared to try on a size 7 that fit and a size 5 that didn’t and that pissed her off? She’s all twisted because she wears a size 7? First world problems really do a number on people, I guess. Randall rigged a Magic 8 ball and now I understand why he’s so screwed up about his juice. He clearly spilled that blue-tinted Soylent green liquid all over the place and has never been the same since. Will it be revealed that Kate failed to clean up the last of the dog’s piddle on the kitchen floor and that’s what really caused the fire to rage out of control? Mostly, what I’m wondering is whether the next episode will be a reboot of the blind school torching episode from Little House on the Prairie. You know the one – where Alice picks up Mary’s baby and rams it through the window and they both die anyway because Alice sucks? So, does Rebecca use Kate to smash a window while Jack gets up and dances around saying, ‘don’t be such a pessimist! This is great! Get the marshmallows and hotdogs, kids! Look! Pilgrim Rick came early!” Meanwhile, lesson of the day, kids. Save energy and save lives and unplug your appliances when not in use. Especially if your wife is a demon who “forgets” batteries.

*plunks down at unpopular table...waves....missed you guys!* @laurakaye – you need new coworkers, woman! The only feelzies I get are sympathy pains for hearing the water cooler talk you endure. My wife likes to tease me about snark-watching this dreck and she pointed out a blurb in some online article that said, “This is Us Knows How to Pierce America Right in the Feelings!” So, yeah, I took that dare and watched the last 3 eps. Quelle surprise. My feelings are not stabbed, pierced, jabbed, torn or otherwise harmed. My snark, though…oh, it needs a home. *sits down and cracks knuckles* We last left these melodramatic self-pitying arseholes with Tess as stowaway in Drunk Uncle’s car because she hates her house. Her words, not my snark. I swear, I can’t even remember what else I was supposed to wrack my feelz over while this show was on a break…oh, yeah. Kate had a breakthrough. Instead of washing down her grief with a plate of sweet-n-sour, she didn’t eat it! Yeah! Whoooo! Girl power! And, oh, right, scarily, this is coming back to me – Randall talked about Pac Man ghosts. Because he’s a genius. Oh, and I think when he talked to St. Jack, Patron Saint of Hair Grease and bullshit, Jack showed him the Vietnam Memorial. Because they are totally the same thing and St. Jack knows how to work any social issue into something about himself, the wronged, pained white man who can’t open his own construction company because family and job. Episode Title: The Fifth Wheel Re-Title: Let’s talk about grief, baby…let’s talk about poor, poor me…let’s talk about grief Tess is back. She’s OK. Oh,Tess. I am going to be so disappointed if you’re not hiding a phone in that book, plotting your escape. Oh, well, at least you’ve got the right instincts, kid. Keep trying. Aaaaaand we’re at a swanky rehab center. The Hillary Clinton lookalike counselor ushers in only the Pearsons for the real family talk and the rest of the riff raff is sent straight to the Tattooine Cantina. This is serious, folks. This is no I’m OK, You’re OK therapy. First round of therapy (DING!) Kevin: I’m sorry. All: Me too. Hillary Clinton: Nope. Try again. More feelings. Kevin: NOBODY LOVES ME! YOU ALL SUCK! Randall: YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE! Kate: (hate-eating face) *assumes silent rage/self-loathing/menu-planning seething pose* Rebecca: I LOVE YOU ALL EQUALLY! WHO COULDN’T LOVE YOU WHEN YOU ACT LIKE THIS? Kevin: WE’RE ALL ADDICTS. Randall: YOU’RE NOT AN ADDICT. YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE. DON’T YOU MAKE MOM CRY! Kate *slow, single glycerin tear rolls down cheek. * Hillary Clinton: Rebecca, why didn’t you sit these children down and tell them their father was an addict? Why didn’t you tell them they had….(*dum dum dum!*) The Gene? Rebecca: I’m the asshole now? Hillary Clinton: Stop making this about you, Rebecca. I’m simply asking why you’re such an evil screw up Darth Maul that you didn’t enroll these poor children in Al-Anon immediately after the funeral and also get them tested for The Gene. Kevin needed you to share something with him. And instead of giving him one single solitary saliva swab, you were thinking, “at last! My singing career! Yeah, baby!” Kevin: See? Nobody pays attention to me! Hillary Clinton: I think that went much better. You’re healed, Kevin. I’m going to go solve the opioid crisis now before Jared Kushner remembers he’s supposed to get credit. *meanwhile, at the Cantina* Tobe-Babe: Jack looked like a porn star. And I can’t even get a funnier line than that. Beth: Jack is a royal pain in the ass. Cheese fries. Now. Miguel: Um…I slept with my best friend’s wife. *buzzkill not even a plate of cheese fries can fix* All: Here’s to Jack! Something deep about them all being Chewbacca because the rest of the Pearsons are the awesomest bestest and get the good parts like Luke and Leia and Obi Wan. Miguel is so pathetic he assigns himself the role of Rebel Fighter #11. Jeebus. Miguel. Han Solo is the best character precisely because he’s an outsider who doesn’t have to mess with the stupid Force or destiny or any of that woo woo shit. Guy gets by on his wits, weapons and friends. He’s awesome. But if you’d rather orbit the Death Star of self pity that is the force of the Pearsons, well….just don’t bring Star Wars into that shit again, OK? Oh, the three kids by the lake. Deep thoughts: everyone has a different perspective on the past. Holy cannoli, you DON’T say? Oh, I’m hit! I’ve been hit in the feelz! Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi. Personally, I would call Miguel Mouse Robot or the silver version of C3PO, but I’m watching for the wrong reasons, so….

Oh my god. I thought you all were kidding about the lightning bolt. Just watched a clip online. Nope. You weren't. And I thought the horribly cheesy peppy "election special edition" music was awful. Thanks, MSNBC. Ya'll just keep on with these cutesy mccute tunes and special intros.

Wondered if Jordan was throwing some shade Peters's way with her oh-so-piercing eyes. Peters is Bannon's bestest MSM fanboi due in part, methinks, to a book deal all about the rise of the *wink* nationalist revolution *wink* in which, as he's said, Bannon is a predominant figure. And he never fails to chant ye old disheveled basement dweller's name when he's on teevee. So, I kind of thought it was funny when Jordan asked Costa about Bannon's role in the upcoming year instead of Peters. Don't tell me these people don't keep Mean Girl type tabs on who's sold what and who's schilling for who and why. Cue three-way call between Jordan, Peters and Costa.

K, ya'll are making me blush over here, but thank you. I am 100% down for snarkcaps. Reading the posts on this thread is so much more therapeutic than trying to prepare for the Feelz that are guar-an-teed to give you that special "ride the lightning/meet your maker" epiphany. And I would never get over my anvil headaches without the rest of you. Cheers to the unpopular lot of us and save your eye muscles for rolling next season.

So, I finally smarm-watched #2 and #3 to complete the bodily function trifecta (piss, dookie and puke). Or, as I have renamed them: "How to Lose a Pathetic, Desperate Hookup and a Necklace in a Few Hours," "When Shower Curtains Attack" and "Joyride with Drunk Uncle." Yes, I clearly need more grief counseling. I'm a sick puppy for not clutching my feelz at every Pearson-splained* emotional breakdown. Pac Man as life lesson, ya'll! It's so...sob...sob..the ghosts...man...the ghosts are still there....sob sob...ohmigod, the feelz....Randall. Dude. Eat some food out of that perfectly full fridge, drop some acid and maybe you'll see your two sainted dads as Inky and Blinky get eaten once and for all and then you can calm.the.fuck.down. and shut.the.fuck.up. The less said about powerful men and yellow onions the better. Perhaps Kate didn't eat the Chinese food because there were NO. YELLOW. ONIONS in it. BTW, Rebecca, Saint Jack would ho ho ho about a red onion substitute and it would become an overblown Pearson tradition when making stew to have the whole family storm into a grocery store and scream at someone. No worries, this is just how we Pearsons do it. Best part of the finale was the kid popping up in the back seat and saying, "I hate my house." Yeah! You go, Tess! I'd hate it too if I had two insufferable parents who harp on how perfectly imperfect they are. I wonder if Tess and Annie are allowed to use wire hangers? Could we have a scene where Randall re-enacts the Mommie Dearest "clean up this mess" scene? Cos that would be fun. And watchable, for entertainment, unlike 99% of this dreck. I say, next season, Tess runs off with Drunk Uncle and they form a band called Tobe and the Dead Dads. *Bless whoever came up with that phrase earlier in the posts and apologies for not finding it to quote.

Hadn't heard Dido's White Flag in a while, but once I did, I realized I'd misheard the chorus for the years the song was on the radio 24-7: Actual lyrics I won't go down with this ship I won't put my hands up and surrender What I heard I won't down with this ship I won't poke my eyes out...and surrender I thought...holy shit, wait...is this song about an Oedipal complex that she won't give up? I mean, it's Dido, so I should have known better, but...

OK, CBC, get out of my head. That's exactly what I was thinking. Why, I don't know, but maybe my grief counselor can explain it to me. If it's a poppyseed muffin, though... I'm not responsible if you make it a drinking game, though. :) The poster just above (sorry, can't figure out how to get quotes to work from multiple pages) is exactly right. We're supposed to be so invested in these characters that we get extreme feels when bad things happen to them, specifically. Because...well, they had a perfect dad and he died? Because they're Pearsons, damn it? Because they have a "clever/endearing" Big Three cheer? Because the promos tell us to?

If by "process" they mean give me a week to stop laughing my arse off, then thanks, but I'm pretty much watching this show while running a wine-induced Mystery Science Theater-style commentary and I don't want to ruin the spontaneity. But, since they offered a week to prepare, well then... I'm predicting the very speshull lost poppyseed ep as follows: Kate walks around sulking. Toby follows. Kate parks herself somewhere and cries. Toby cries and Kate tells him to leave her alone, damnit, this is HER special episode and it was HER DAMN CHICKEN NUGGET!!! Has flashback to perfect Jack telling her that someday he'll be perfect grandpa to little perfect poppyseed. Kate does creepy hand-to-face gesture and says the only thing more perfect would be if Rebecca is fat by then and Jack "ho-ho-hos" his wonderfulness. *insert emo guitar bastardization remake of Kajagoogoo's "too shy" because why not?* Cut to Kate with a package of donuts in her hand and fervently trying not to eat them. Yes, you, too, may wonder why eating donuts after a shock and bad news is such a Greek tragedy, but see, this is Symbolism. And Extraordinary. And she's going for an Emmy nod with alternating stuffing her face with a donut and then staring at the package like it's Satan. Goddamnit, Mom, this is all your fault for being thin. Kate gets a call from Toby and, with a great sigh, she throws away the donuts (whoo! Check the strength on that woman!) and she goes to meet him. She is wearing her grey sulky look (she has two expressions: dark sulky and grey sulky. Emmy material, again, in case you missed it). *insert emo guitar bastardization of "The electric company" theme. Because, damn it, this is extraordinary* Toby is waiting for her at a Babies R Us and he pelts her with rattles and pacifiers as he sings "Big Girls Don't Cry" and then points to a crib and asks if she at least wants to have sex to feel better. "Oh, Tobe," she sighs. (If she stormed off like Regina George in "mean girls" and continued with 'nobody understaaaaaaads me', I might give her an Emmy, but she won't do that). Gets call from know it all Randall who gives her a big long monologue about how Jack would have made everything better if he weren't dead, but hey, the hour is long and they're Pearsons and it 's time to introduce his Emmy nod and Very Important Backstory, so let's get on with making another poppyseed, k? And the viewers get a week to 'process' Mr. Perfectly Imperfect and his anxiety attacks and sad, dead William and perfect dead Jack and restock their wine. If the roundtables are honestly as earnest and self-important as explained in this thread then I may have to start watching. Unintentional laffs are the best kind....

I miss Jebediah Atkinson every day of the year. I pine for that character, actually, and he is the only Weekend Update character I have ever wanted to see more of, so I think Taran was smart not to repeat him too often or too soon. Sarah Huckabee Sanders remains a wasted opportunity and the Trump sketches aren't nearly as cutting or dead-on as they once were. If they can't get this shit right, I'll gladly wait for more Michael Che straight-up on the W.U. When Che uses his IDGAF biting snark for a topic that more than deserves it (aka, our current alt-administration) as opposed to something that doesn't (women, amirite?), it is a thing of beauty. I liked LD's monologue from the last episode he hosted and I will always favor even the lamest stand-up openings as opposed to the most talented singing, but...yech. That was awful. He sells anti-social shcmuck humor far better than edgy, borderline offensive humor. You could see him squirming when the reaction wasn't more than a few titters and you can't deliver controversial/taboo/gallows humor unless you're 100% committed. His attitude seemed to be, "Eh....I'll give it a whirl..." I wasn't offended, but I was rolling my eyes. God help me, but Miley Cyrus added an element of fun and enthusiasm to all sketches she was in. "If you make fun of handicapped people - that's retarded!" ROTFLMAO The show hit gold with Alex Moffett. The man never fails to at least make me smile, and when he gets a good skit/character on top of that? My night - made!

Clearly Randall was adopted into the wrong family. Anyone who can storm a women's bathroom and lurk outside a stall and peer in as a 12-year-old girl explains the horrors of being whipped with a rolled up spring fashion issue of Vogue? That's Parenthood's Braverman behavior all the way. I waited for Randall to stop staring and say, "well, you know, we Pearsons tend to resolve our innermost, life-shaping traumas in about an hour, so let's get one more poignant stare and then come on out. You can re-enact the scene from 'Pretty Woman' where she flings a snall across the room because high class seafood hijinks, amirite?" Sit down, Toby. "Your' pregnancy does not give you a pass to commandeer a restaurant and play YOUR (of course) 'happy song' and do some godawful pole dance/Flashdance wreck while people are merely trying to eat their food. Kate, you sit down a million times and get the fuck over yourself. I get it - you like to hide away from the world because death and fat. That's your choice, but it makes you a really, really unrelatable and unlikable character. On the other hand, I enjoy disliking Kate more than any time Sophie appears on the screen because she's better than NyQuil and a glass of Chardonnay for putting me to sleep. And you need to be awake for this show to brace yourself for the anvils and wash the sticky morass of cliche and corniness off of you afterward. Has there ever been a show where the unpopular opinions thread becomes the hideout for those who like the show while the regular ep. thread becomes the hate watch thread? That almost happened with Parenthood, I think, and this show seems well on its way to the same kind of derailment. I never liked this show as much as I liked the first few eps. of Parenthood, but the continual promos of this show being the most well-written, moving, tearjerker since...well, there is no comparison with Jack Pearson, man who can probably cure the opioid crisis with one sit down heart to heart but yet can't find a bottle of shampoo. Anyway, nothing brings out my meanness like a show that thinks a bit too highly of itself and manages to cheapen and add nothing to social issues that deserve nuance and thoughtfulness. And thank god you're all still here, or then, yes, I would cry!

I'll give Joe credit for at least calling Bannon out for his anarchist con job. Peters started to say that Bannon was a social conservative and Joe cut that shit right off. He said, "no, let's redefine this. He's not a social conservative. He's a cultural radical." Well, that's a little closer, Joe, though next time why don't you stand by your original characterization and say what plenty of people have seen since the beginning: Bannon is a bitter snake oil slimeball salesman and failed Hollywood writer who is now the spokesperson being paid by the sicko Mercer to be the high priest of angry, butthurt Murrrrca first morons? I mean, I know Peters is really intimidating with his hair and all, but you can challenge him, Joe, and keep your pouf intact.

I did, too! I don't know what it says that, in an hour and half or so of skits, that moment stood out as funny to me, but I think CS and AB really sold the reaction. I did think the CS character in that sketch came a little too close to Che's neighbor KathyAnne, but I like that character, so I let it slide. Gadot's obvious reading of cue cards was really distracting. Didn't know producers want the hosts to read teleprompters instead of memorizing the script. Clearly, a skill that I have underappreciated before. But I was just so happy not to have a singing open that I just gave in to her charm. She's very, very charming. Apparently it's really hard to write original and updated material for dyke characters. We're a little past "men on film" territory, but not by much, IMHO. I have never cheered Che before, but I did on his WU gun control segment. I missed Moffat. He is such a talent. I even love his characters who aren't really that funny ("guy...boat").

So I checked the clips and saw several with Bannon and one with Christie and promptly closed my browser. Joe, for someone who can't stand Bannon, you're giving him precisely what he wants; attention. And Chris Christie just needs to find himself a nice private beach in, oh, I don't know...one of the Keys, maybe...and just enjoy a good storm surge. There is no reason, none, to give any attention, respect, or credence to those turds. But sure, let's not waste this opportunity to bash HRC, who's clearly just a whining attention whore, too, but you know...vaginas. They're scary. They're the devil. O beware those Summer's Eve tunnels of love....they're worse than any anarchist hollywood wannabe crybaby who wants to throw the game board flying off the table because he's just that much of an a-hole. Or maybe I'm just crabby because I see Confessore on some of those clips and I'd like to listen to him, but feel lazy about fast forwarding through all the Bannon dreck. Maybe the Tur clips are worth it. *girds loins and pulls browser back up*

This guy? I've never heard of him, but wow, what a friggin' waste of oxygen. I was just thinking the other day that a bullshit false equivalency would really get my day off to a good start, especially from someone trying to defend blatant nazism by saying "yeahbut, the left does it, too." You know who they needed on the show to counter that BS? Joy Reid. She would point out the intellectual stupidity and moral repugnancy of comparing BLM to some "economically depressed" supremacists. But no, we instead have Peters because he and Red Tie got in a Twitter tiff or some such and Peters wrote a story about "gee, why did 45 say what he did?" Because...it's just SO HARD to figure that out...SMH. I would have liked to see more discussion, actually, from Peters and/or Joe, both whom were very vocal in saying that we needed to understand how the conservatives have been so repressed (on campus, in the media, yadda yadda) that of course many of them became 45 supporters. He gave them a voice. For fuck's sake, do you finally get it that the only equivalence you need to talk about is that skinhead=alt-right=conservative party. I want to see the verbal gymnastics that try to tease out an "academic argument" for conservatism/45 supporters while still denying that accepting fascism is part of it. Come on, Peters and Joe, put down the hair gel, drink your Starbucks and try again. Also, Joe, if you need a "friend" to call for observations of 45-land, I'm your gal. I was in Indiana for a few days. I saw no fewer than three "Killary" signs and a sign for an actual goddamned real estate business that read, "Obamacare killed [name of a baby that died and I am unable to remember name or story right now]" Also, on the drive out, several cute signs that read like, "When young thugs attack, do you have a gun so you can fight back?" Another equivalency: thugs=POC. I"m available anytime. You're welcome. LOL-ed at Willie pronouncing "antifa" as "an-tee-fah." Took me a minute to figure out what the heck he was saying. Is that how the kids are saying it? I prefer "anti-fascist" myself, although the fact that apparently we need to label ourselves as "anti-fascist" is a sad, sad commentary on the state of our country.

Joe? Do you know what also drives down wages for working class Americans? Union busting. Offshoring. Monopolies. Businesses accountable to shareholders, not workers, and therefore looking to snip, snip, snip at wages, benefits, etc. Also, say we stop all these horrible hombres who pick fruit from daring to live the Neil Diamond song. You want to tell a steelworker to get thee to the strawberry fields for the best working conditions and wages evah? Drink some more Starbucks - that must be decaf in your giant plastic tumbler because you also forgot to say "President Bannon" when you had the chance. Though you're right to mercilessly mock the Dem's new "message." That really is a piece of shite. Why did they move Peters to the boilerplate Wargames looking room? Was he on his way to take a leak after drinking his mug of water and they suddenly realized they wanted his input, so threw him in to closest available room? He was only about a 6 on the Paul Mitchell for Men hair gel today and he went for the wet -n- wild wayward slicks instead of high royal pompadour. Anyway, shocking to see him rein in the snooty disdain a bit when he asked Senator Durbin (a Dem) his questions. Durbin did a good job responding, I thought. Oh. Cotton. Goodbye. I'm so out. I want my click back.

Flake wrote a book that apparently denounces Trump. Yesterday was the one time I rooted for Chris Matthews, spittle and interruptions and all, because he asked, point blank, whether Flake thought Trump was unfit, etc. etc. etc. and Flake responded with dodging via generalities and Matthews was clearly irritated that Flake wouldn't even acknowledge what he said in the book. I don't know how well that fake tan held up under all the flying spit. Anyway, FLake came off looking, to me, incredibly phony and I know zip about the guy. Or, at least, regretful that his book apparently caught the attention of the lean-not-so-forward press. But then, he's a big boy and he agreed to come on the show, so...

BriWi cracked me up last night. He was talking about Twitter and the guest said something like, "I'm sure you've never received a bad Tweet," and BriWi looked down on his papers and said, "oh, no, never. It's nothing but a giant love fest." Little bitter, Bri? I know he shouldn't be making me laugh, but he is. Also, I like how, at the closing credits, he puts on his glasses to arrange the papers on his desk. Dude, you've been reading stuff the entire show, but you need glasses to move papers around? Since i"m watching more cableheads than ever, I notice these things. Do each of them do a signature sign off move? Like Maddow, who always pulls her papers off her desk and spins away in her chair? Do they even realize they do this? I am not proud of noticing these things, but I declare helplessness to overcome my cablehead addiction given the current...ah...state of things. I want to know details about the people who are reporting what seems to me to be the death of our country (YMMV and all, of course, on that perspective).

Yep! That's it! We don't need no stinkin' documentation or plans. Those take time. Better for everyone to be everything at any time. It's an absolute anathema to an introverted person like me who values depth over breadth and who sees a lot of value in having, oh, I dunno, RECORDS of things. I don't get how you're supposed to see the forest for the trees with this bullshit, which seems to me a real project killer, but hey, I'm no scrum master. However, this morning, our director said he was out of office for a few days and project manager said, "and he said I'm in charge! Did everyone hear that." And I said, "I heard we're all AGILE and can be everything, every day. So, we're all in charge now." Earned me a nice, scornful look and probably a "bad" sticker somewhere in my permanent record.

Ya know, when a political party chooses to debate killing people...excuse me, debate how to "win" on taking away healthcare from millions...I'd kind of like more discussion about that instead of the eyerolling stinker of a Democratic slogan or all the lauding of elfin Sessions as a hero. With all of his inability to remember any meetings with Russians, I'd bet Sessions doesn't even recall 45's insults. Manchin - workplace and environmental safety are not politically correct nonsense. Lives get saved and all, but whatever. Also, thanks for perpetuating the myth that some people just need to get off their butts and get to work. The Dems can't be the party for urban areas? You know what? Fuck you. We work too, buddy. And do we get to be whiny butthurt when this current alt-admin leaves US behind? Please sit down now. Whoa - Rep Ryan. Bright, summer picnic dad shirt, red tie and shiny tan jacket? Yeeesh - get thee to Bonobos, would ya? Died laughing at whoever said, "tastes great, less filling" in response to the new Dem slogan. Was embarrassed for Sen. Coons when Halperin said the laws about a president being able to fire an AG had changed and asked where Coons had gotten his facts and Coons said...uh, haven't read the statute this morning...will gladly review it.... *facepalm*. Has nobody figured out that with 45, we need to be real clear on what's allowed and what isn't. Kind of a fun roulette they have going with the split screen interviews of the Congress reps. I never know who's going to pop up on my screen next. First, it's Kasie. Next, it's Peters. Then, back to Halperin. Whack-a-mole, MJ style. Speaking of style, Peters found the hair gel again. Seven out of ten on poof scale.

We have a new project manager. For a team of essentially three people plus a few "dotted line" reports and some warm bodies that occasionally answer questions. New PM already has commandeered a "coordinator" and an "assistant" because of the workload (which, I would venture to guess, would be substantially reduced if the director could simply tell pushy people with big egos and long ass titles, "no, we really can't do that"). I have a question for those familiar with the new flavor of project management: who in the bloody hell invented this torture called AGILE and where can I hunt them down and fry them by dropping a toaster in their bathtub? I no longer go to work. I go to kindergarten. We get our daily stand up where we all look at each other's tasks and who gets a gold star for completions. Then, our teacher holes up with the principal (director) for hours to further discuss how to approach the parking lot, the classification of tasks, the roles, the food, and, best, whether we all need goddamned training so that we can all understand how to collaborate on multitasking or some such bullshit. I can only hope they are having a torrid affair. Nobody should get that lathered over work projects. Here's an idea, dipshit, useless director: client asks for something. You assess like a reasonable person. You say yes or no. If yes, we do it. If no, we don't. If yes, you leave us the fuck alone and let us do the actual work and stop insisting that we need to build our team via incessant cross pollination. I am not a bee. I don't pollinate. I don't want a gold star or a cookie. I am not here to necessarily make friends. I am here for a paycheck and no, I will not be wearing more than the requisite amount of flair. And no, I am not going to wax poetic about how much we're getting done because...um...we're not. We're just getting better at bullshitting about it. Also: dear relentlessly bubbly coworker who believes no moment at work should be without giggles and pranks and fun and small talk. Please stop with the efforts to get me to "join" instead of "holing up by [myself]". If I have headphones on and am glaring at my screen as I type, maybe, just maybe, I don't feel like joining in on your babbling about how much you love guinea pigs and no, I don't want to look at pictures of them on your phone and yes, I do want to hurt you after about five minutes. So, no, you don't want me to join. Trust me. I am sorry it pains you to see someone sitting at a desk absorbed in something other than pleasant talk at the office, but there's help for that and plenty of coworkers who will join you, so leave me out of it or risk a major thunderclap on your little cheery parade. I'm gonna come out ranting about politics and stupid clients and I may even throw in religion and abortion if pushed too far....

I read that as Joe saying that what kept hitting him was his hairstyle going forever straight up. I missed him being there today for a mean girl beatdown of Kushner's tepid CMA spin statement. I'm just a dummy commoner, but even I know bullshit PR gobbledygook when I see it. Meanwhile, since it's clear that Mika runs the hairshow, I guess I can stop writing fanfic on Joe and Jeremy Peters' adventures in the Man Salon with hot rollers and a tube of L"OReal Studio Style. Sigh. Why must it be so hard to quit a day job?