What I want to know is why David’s pants are so damn short.

Should’ve used “has” rather than “have” as well.

And both are disgracefully wasteful drug delivery systems.

I live in Downeast Maine, and younger people’s accents are noticeably less thick than their elders’. A lot of them have lived in this town all their lives, so travel doesn’t explain the difference. The influence of television has a lot to do with it, I’m guessing.

And work Rhys Darby in for good measure.

More than a year later, and probably repeating something said more than once in these comments, I must proclaim my love for the moment when Oliver takes a sip of his martini as the Division 3 goons surround him and Melanie. Made me laugh out loud.

He’s certainly a far cry from Matthew Crawley.

Funnily enough, I read “couch” anyway.

Yep, that’s Grover.

I think most sixteen-year-old boys would be fine with a twenty-year-old having her way with them.

If the lasagna were homemade, it could be fine, but it sure looked store-bought to me.

Ramona Young is great at deadpan (see also Z NATION).

Reducing Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronyn to COCOON? For shame!

A lesson many people with far more experience haven’t learned now, so it makes sense that space children with little understanding of nonartificial environments would be dumbos on this score.

Presidents can be. Why not evil despots?

Aren’t they just pain pills? She had crippling headaches because of the brain bleed, took painkillers to deal with them, and got hooked (it’s a classic!). Now, as a junkie, she’s useless without them. They do indeed enhance function for her, but only because she can’t do anything when she’s jonesing.

Of course, he was supposed to be, what . . . ? Nineteen? Twenty? 

you’re supposed to Capitalize it while standing up, hand over heart, and humming “The Star-Spangled Banner,” right?

Oh, lord, I can’t remember. I just googled and googled and googled. Sorry.

I’m sure someone has already said this, but I don’t feel like reading all the comments right now to find out: I find it hard to believe that a sightless predator wouldn’t have an acute sense of smell. That puddle of amniotic fluid, for example, should’ve sounded an olfactory dinner bell.