Episode Two

I'm actually anticipating watching Twin Peaks . . . this is a dark, dark day . . . Nah, not really. I have a feeling my wife will love me even more if I like this show, so I'm giving it my all!

Why yes, she DOES read this blog over my shoulder while we watch . . . how did you know?

One thing I do wonder is if the color of the show is a factor of my TV and dvd player, or if it's intentional. Because it totally looks old and 90s-ish, but maybe that's because it's old and 90s-ish . . .

Ok, I do have to say, Mr. Horn's passion for French cheese and bread is quite inspiring. He and his brother tear into their brie and butter baguettes like dingoes into a baby. And their sinister lusts for milk products seem to also extend to that which produces milk. Boobs, I mean. Because they waste no time turning their casein derived calories into hip propulsion at Blackie's house of ill repute . . .

Dale Cooper takes inordinate pride in his tooting. I do however take some umbrage with the fact that he immediately is suspicious of a man with one arm. Yeah, he was prowling around a morgue at the hospital, but SOMEONE has got to cut up those precious Douglas Firs, and occasionally accidents

Leo needs a new pair of shoes . . . he also needs to lose the slicked back look . . . he looks like he should be in the WWF circa 1998. It's slightly better than the be-mulleted jock though. But he does seem to have the corner on the local drug trade, and, much like Brett 'The Hit-man' Hart, strikes fear in the hearts of the unrighteous. Also the local school children.

He also strikes his wife a lot, which is TOTALLY wrong. Men who beat women are pretty low. No woman ever deserves to be hit. Especially a woman who can bend a rowing machine in half with her bare hands. I expect that's why she has an eye missing. She was plucking her eyebrows, and didn't know her own strength, and the next thing she knew, BAM! Eye patch.

Agent Cooper: Tibetan stone skipper, for great justice!

The Palmers are breaking down . . . mom's screaming (again), and dad's 'dancing' with Laura's picture to 'Pennsylvania 6-500', which, while a great song, isn't all that appropriate for dancing with with your dead daughter's picture. I mean, he should be playing "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" or something, you know?

Agent Dale Cooper: Dancing Dwarf Choreographer!

Ok, that's it for now.