Now I really want to see a commercial with James Patterson pimping both literacy and his new thriller featuring a microscopic McCarthy credit on the cover.

In my mind, that's what happened immediately after (yes, I watched) the finale. The plane took off, physics stopped working as we know it in an isolated bubble and that plane just kept going, untethered by rules, limits, or Malcolm McDowell.

Also a helicopter in a cave hidden in a mountain and Ernest Borgnine's corpse for a sidekick!

A friend and I made the terrible decision to try that out one night. Bahama Mamas, white wine spritzers… Hangover hath no fury like that produced by hellish liquors that are usually scorned.

Now I want to go as one of the Daves (or possibly a David) he knows.

Vending reefer sticks.

$50k a year to be in Third Eye Blind long after they were marginally famous= the very definition of semi-charmed kind of life.

Call the Rear Admiral, this situation must be rectified.

Whoever gave her that ring is in for a few surprises.

Mine too! Eat em up 'Cats?

SPOILERS/TWIST: They're both Franklin, proving the old adage: Always a Franklin, never a Bash.

JT Walsh as well.

It's a credit to the writing on The Shield and Pounder's acting that I expected her to be sick post-wig reveal. Every time I see her, I think something along the lines of "oh good, she's still alive."

Michael Myers did it first!

I'm the bad guy?

"That's what killed Dennis Day!"

@avclub-f121d09285898f1c66d66f1e6f0455a6:disqus I'm not the only one who comes and re-reads this for nostalgia, am I?

In the universe with the zeppelins her and Michael Keaton were ridiculously ubiquitous, career-wise, and got married after they were in You've Got Mail.

Wicked was great as a concept, but man, that book sucked my balls.

Cloud Atlas is starting to make a lot more sense…