avclub-e7af19935015fb11dedb9fbb2955f880--disqus
Agog
avclub-e7af19935015fb11dedb9fbb2955f880--disqus

People are always complaining this feature is unpleasant and focuses on pettiness. But I think Coogan makes a cogent point here, that this chanson is a piece of shit.

That's because THEY GET NOTHING!

Whoops yeah, I did. I was going to go with That Creepy Looking Kid originally.

My favorite moment this ep was when Sally and Don were bickering in the car. There was some song playing in the background, and you know every time Sally hears that song for the rest of her life, it'll remind her of that moment. It was like the time Grandad Gene died and she watched the bulletin about the burning

"Sit Ubu, sit! Good dog."

It wasn't much of a Valentine's for some. That day, Pope Paul VI struck a whole heap of names from the Calendar of Saints, including Valentine himself.

I half expected it and Don to exchange greetings. "Off to work already, Bob?"

He calls that a plan? It's my mission statement.

Because deep down she knows it to be true.

I was wondering if it was a callback to that time she went wandering the city with Greg, as if she was trying to recapture that day.

She's turned into Betty v2, at last.

Anglo-Saxonal dysfunction.

Kwenthelstan? Didn't we bomb that place?

That thing was a monster, they should have taken it on the raid with them.

And so was born the tradition of the package tour to the English heartland, although in the years since it's gotten a bit more violent.

He's got history on his side. "I'm not due to die for a few more decades!" is a stirring battle-cry.

So no Sabrina then?

I fucking love the Battle Hymn of the Republic, especially the version in the series sung by the Abyssinian Baptist Gospel Choir.

"While the nation marveled at Mister Burn's sublime erudition, effusive charm and mellifluous gift for educating, they could not but feel a haunted dread at the specter of his callow coiffure, which seems to threaten a secession from the realm of fashion".

The only album I've ever heard which captures the long dark weirdness of coming down from acid. Don, Aman is like the musical version of that insane, auto-cannibalistic headspace you get into during the second half of the trip. I mentioned this to the friend who lent me the album, and he said these guys were pretty