But from what else can he derive the smug sense of superiority that he clearly craves?

For me, it was so tight (by AHS standards, I mean) up until the Axeman episode. My sister and I spent that whole ep looking at one another in confusion and saying, "Did we miss an episode?" The story was so jumbled and shoddily made.

So true.

It's been a while since I watched the first season, so I may be misrembering its pacing. I may have also just been more forgiving of it, because I'll eat up pretty much anything about haunted houses—it might be my favorite horror trope. And you're totally right that the writing has been a mix of good and batshit bad…

What strange thing with her face? She's always got a batshit sinister edge to her, for sure.

Oh. Oops. I got a minor character's name wrong SO I MUST NOT BE PAYING ATTENTION. Seriously, fuck off so hard you go blind.

It wasn't nearly as much fun as Coven—Coven may be the campiest and most fun season, I have to say. And, if I recall correctly, season 2 went downhill after about the midway point. There was a bad problem in that season with the writers continuing to add storylines without resolving others (I think Coven is turning…

Sterling is the motherfucking tongueless butler, you goddamn doofus.

I so hope Myrtle can bring crimped hair back into style. I have wanted an excuse to crimp my hair for ages.

I love that theory. It could definitely redeem the show for me.

I think the first season was GREAT. Definitely a mess, but one with purpose. And I loooooved the notion that they could only be a happy family once they were all dead. Season two was just abominable, though.

OMG, LOVE IT.

American Horror Story: Coven is devolving into such a sloppy mess. I can't even figure out a point to half of the storylines now (especially Frankenboyfriend and Sterling's ghost). At this point, I'm basically just watching the insanely gorgeous clothing.

My "down there" is full of disdain.

I've said it once and I'll say it a million times. Erotica whose main character can only refer to her vagina as "down there" cannot be genuinely dirty. Those books are about as racey as a box of kleenex.

I lived in a house that had an underwear drawer that would open itself over and over. Even if I tied it shut with hair ties. It would slide steadily open, over and over again, unless I politely asked the Undies Ghost to leave it shut. Then it would stay in place. Only if I talked to the ghost though.

Your junk is an overplayed insult.

It used to really disturb me, and for a while it was extremely painful for me. I have always strongly believed there's no afterlife, that we snuff out like candles when we go. Everyone who heard the story told me it was my father, trying to communicate to me that he's okay now and that I should let go of the pain that…

YES.

I'm a total non-believer too—except when I've got soap all over my face and eyelids. Then, without fail, I suddenly very much believe in ghosts.