[spoken into a cassette recorder]: Diane, it’s been 2 episodes since we last checked in. A LOT has happened. A car exploded. A medical examiner made puns about a beheaded body. A wife had a hissy fit about a rug. A former psychiatrist began selling gold-painted shit shovels during commercial breaks on his conspiracy theory webcam series. An assassin killed several people with an ice pick. Carl Rodd is still making the best damn coffee. What appears to be some missing pages from Laura Palmer’s diary were uncovered in a bathroom stall. Chad is a dick. Also, Diane, let’s not forget that YOU finally showed up!
When we began this journey back to the town of Twin Peaks, we were reminded of the words of Dale Cooper from over 25 years ago: “I have no idea where this will lead us, but I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful and strange.” 6 hours into David Lynch’s 18-hour long opus, we’re still not quite sure where this story is headed. We’ve been terrified by a glass box, and amused by Albert Rosenfeld cursing at a rainstorm “Fuck Gene Kelly, you motherfucker!” We’ve been introduced to characters who we’re not entirely sure we’ll ever see again (et tu, Matthew Lillard?). We’ve been, at times, bored, bewildered, entranced, mesmerized, and nostalgic. We’ve also concluded that we’re two of the few people sticking with the show on a weekly basis, so we’ve decided to take on some new topics for our future pop culture discussions. This show has been quite a ride so far, and though we won’t be back with weekly recaps, we’ll keep watching, processing, and chatting in some form. Thank you for reading along; we love you as much as Wally Lando loves the open road.
In honor of David Lynch, who loves a good non-sequitur, here are some of our favorite abs for you to hold onto until we meet again:
David Lynch has been analyzed over the years for using nudity to show the way that women are subjected to violence, misogyny, and objectification. Critics argue that if his camera mimics the male gaze, is he commenting on misogyny or acting misogynistic himself? We don’t know, so let’s stare at Idris Elba’s bare chest for a minute.
David Lynch is masterful at making ordinary household objects like ceiling fans, doorknobs, and electric outlets appear ominous or menacing. Ricky Whittle’s abs could be considered objects of menace, as we would cut a bitch for the chance to lick sweat off his gleaming torso.
Let’s pause for a moment and reflect on how we’d climb Jason Momoa like he’s a home gym and it’s New Year’s Resolution season.
Chris Pine, shut your pretty mouth while we talk about you while you’re still in the room like the dudes on Mad Men.
The cast of Spartacus, thank you for your service.
It seems fitting to end with a young Kyle MacLachlan from the sci fi film, Dune, his first collaboration with David Lynch. We’re hoping that we’ll see Dale Cooper regain his senses sometime soon this season, but if we don’t, we’ll console ourselves by fondly recalling our favorite FBI agent in his young, boyishly handsome days long before BOB got his evil hands on him.