I spent the last 40 minutes or so of last night's episode working myself up into a lather over the absurdity that we're supposed to believe that she's gone hunting with her dad a million times, that she makes trips to the Arctic Circle trio shoot caribou like the rest of us go to the store to buy socks, and yet she mysteriously had no idea whether or not her rifle had a kick. What the fuck?
But Sully nails how we're really supposed to be watching the show anyway, so I'm back to normal breathing.
After a while, the suspension of disbelief kinda works. Which is why this show is so like her political career: you just have to drop all desire to have it make any sense and it's relatively painless. If you relax, it hurts less.
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