I LOVE yourself, @avclub-a0f15903fa20c9b96994cea76d690fab:disqus - em dash is actually my real name IRL more/less, and you just totally personalized & meta-fied this long, long, loooong thread about language. I am baking you brownies and sending them in a very special "5" shirt.

If disliking the tattered, depleted, tedious dragging-out of old sketches she did that had stopped 'working' well before her departure a year ago somehow qualifies as "Wiig hatred," this makes me even sadder than this show did.  I *personally* think she rocks as a performer, but it'll be a dark and empty day at Target…

He's exceptional, @avclub-2b6834ce56000032e3740153c3f24176:disqus —  I wish that some of these performances (his in particular) could be up for all the typical nominations later this year…

That was pretty masterfully done, now that you mention it, @avclub-32b63dd70d870580128d83e930199e1c:disqus — that was such a cringe-inducing scene for me the first time through, but as re-viewed through the filter of his own (and self-reported, at that) inadequacies, it produced even more cramp-worthy cringing on…

Absolutely… or maybe Al = Devil (as Matt was a massive psycho-monster, but at least he wore his monster-suit on the outside, which knocked him up (down?) a fraction of a notch on the old Satan-o-Matic for me in relation to Al — and Matt may have been a sadistic & effed-up dog-breeder on every possible level (I could…

When I saw that she was performing the ancient art of crosswording in a bar, I immediately concluded that the peculiar grayish facial-mark was supposed to serve as evidence of some wild-ass pencil thing she'd inadvertently done to herself, probably while attempting to bed the previous catch-of-the-day with a book of…

yes (and i should have scrolled down before posting above (is there an appropriately self-denigrating acronym for this yet?) — showing myself out…  But I have to say first that I skipped back to look at the "ice" sign by the vending machines twice — upon first glance, it appeared to be a slyly-placed official…

PRECISELY, @cub!! And I loved the way the shot of a cat with prey in its (soft?) mouth preceded a relatively bleak & thinly-veiled chat with the kids about "Phase One: insurance… Phase Two: ___??____… Phase Three: PROFIT…" (being an "American" conceit, the way I squinted & read it…)

Oh, come on, Migraine Boy, like they didn't name these characters specifically with TVWOP-ready pre-portmanteau names…

hold the eff up…

forgive me if this has been addressed, but i am so pleased that they finally found actual clothing from the 80's to put Elizabeth in — she's finally stopped looking like a walking anachronism 73% of the time (commonly-used ivory v-neck sweater made of angora that isn't actively shedding the way they did before 2004, i…

E-I-E-I-OhhhhhhSHIT, y'all.

I AM BEGINNING TO WONDER WHAT ALL OF THE CAPITALIZED MESSAGES MEAN. (Also, !!! (because I am a tremendous music dork))

@Scrawler2:disqus I would nearly kill to see Mara answer the door for Underwood one time gothed up to the earlobes in her (edit: SISTER'S) Dragon Tattoo garb (unless perhaps the Rubberman suit is available). Talk about unexpected plot-twisting & the possibility of permanently breaking the arch in one of Spacey's…

"Is it a E-SHIRT??!"

We called him "Coke Dad," too!! (Until the mental gears finally un-rusted — now we call him "OMG He's The Guy That Played Freaking Hemingway In That Woody Allen Thing.")

the only thing that's weirder is that the mp3 player in Mandy's car only plays two songs now: "Uck I Have Karen-Hair in My Grills" and "There Is Still Blood in My Headlights, You Guys!" (both by, I dunno, Karen O probably)

(reckless confession: once that cold open rolled out, I kinda wanted to see Paul Simon attempt to explain to Armisen how he'd gotten trapped on Topanga so he took the 101 blah blah blah… WHAT WOULD THAT HAVE SOUNDED LIKE?? (I am so going to hell.))

I was literally in the process of birthing a mental image of what a JT/Beyonce baby might've been like (conclusion: it would probably spontaneously combust upon learning how to walk) when holeeeeshit, there's MISTER Beyonce stage left — it was as disorienting as anything chemical I may or may not have ingested during…

That was my absolute favorite of all the Von Trier non-rom-non-coms, Spencer Hastings…