Archer Hating Wife has been catching up on old shows, including an endless parade of Lena Dunham’s Girls. If you imagine this is not her revenge for my commandeering the TV on Thursday nights for Archer viewing (and reviewing as needed), I think your imagination needs new batteries.
Is this effective revenge? Well, the bits that leaked into my field of perception irritated me considerably. And now, like every other clown with a keyboard, I’m writing inessential commentary on the show. So she’s won this round on points.
I hate Girls, of course, because it’s a show about overwound people in their 20s and how their barely formed personalities grind against their environment. I don’t know who feels compelled to watch this show, besides people in their 20s who watch it in a froth of narcissism and people in their 40s who watch it cackling with schadenfreude.
I realize that because I am a fat snotbag who writes about TV, I’m supposed to loathe Lena Dunham because she’s overpraised and average looking. Then I’m supposed to mansplain how it’s OK that Sasha Grey has pubic hair sometimes and we should accept that chicks can be gross and this proves that I’m evolved and sensitive under my shell of ill temper. I’ll skip that bit and just assert that I’m allowed to be an asshole and hate a show I’ve barely watched because it’s a free country and you know what, Archer is on.
Tonight’s special guest voice is Tony Bourdain, who gets to make vicious fun of every preening sociopath celebrity chef ever and I’m guessing get punched in the throat by Lana in the first ten minutes of the show.
Nope, no throat punching, though so far Mallory has reduced Pam to tears, Tony has reduced Ray to tears, and wow, obscure reference for a throwaway on Ray’s codename. And Bumper.
Always Be Berating and Belittling. Thanks for the new management initialism, which I may actually get tattoo’d across my knuckles.
As an aside, I loved Gordon Ramsey’s first series because I’d always felt if I had a job where I could actually take my rage out on people, I’d sleep like a baby at night. Eventually I found out that Ramsey, who looks like a D-Day veteran, is actually younger than me and I re-thought a bunch of things about my life.
Our boy Sterling, on the other hand, had a worse childhood than me and is thriving in Bastard Kitchen. Unlike Cyril, who is not getting into the spirit of excoriating them sheep heads.
And the return of the Gun Librarian, as Pam looks for some resources to save her beloved Jermain. Gun Librarian’s taste in handjob administrators baffles me a bit, though I bet Tunt relents and spits on him once the groove gets going.
And I’m right. I hate being right sometimes. And I’m not going on a Google odyssey over the Spain in the 30s gag.
Back at 16, we’re rolling through all the chef show cliches about being in the weeds and angry patrons, and oops, dead Albanian Ambassador. ISIS has screwed the pooch again, and if we’re hearing the number 6 million, it must be…
Yep, Barry and Katya together again.
I’m going to stop calling these throwaway episodes, seeing as Katya and I are the only ones who care about “advancing the plot” and she’s clearly got a handle on things. SAID. YOUR. MOM.