It’s been a surprisingly long time since the last Revengecast, especially since we recorded this one before Graz went away to Colorado, but what can you do? We ain’t in the army and we don’t get up at reveille.
(that being said, we are always striving to be more punctual and we apologize for the delay in Your Content)
ANYWAY. In this episode of Revenge, everyone’s prepping for an October Surprise, which is not as fun as it sounds and is probably not a delicious, refreshing traditional English dessert (the jury’s still out). All over New York, fall, the election, and the masquerade ball are in full swing! While we dither about what is/is not Page 6, Conrad struggles to get his Town Hall (in Jack’s Bar) Meeting to the perfect pitch of down-home, working-class charm. Don’t worry Conrad, the casual, relatable way you remove your blazer is sure to (working )class the PANTS OF those filthy Vox Populi (vote Grayson). But it would sure be helpful if Ashley stopped interrupting our practice debate to run intermediary because back at the house, mysterious notes are being dropped off re: one suspiciously Long Lost Son. Who could it be!
Well it’s probably not Padma, who has vanished, not that you’d know from Aiden’s completely cavalier attitude about the whole thing, considering how Nolan’s gone full Dollhouse and is writing conspiracy grids all over his corner office mirrors in his quest to FIND THE NUMBERS. It’s like Aiden can’t be bothered to care about how Nolan’s so depressed that it’s all he can do to pick up the phone and order expensive delivery sushi whenever he’s feeling slightly peckish. Apparently, all AIDEN cares about is tying red string around an increasingly muddled collage of low-DPI black and white printouts of Manhattan’s manifold butts (and casually sliding his way out of the room when Hyper-Advanced 1920s Crime Robot Ethan(??) Trask shows up to complain about his investment portfolio (and also why the murders haven’t happened yet)). Also, also does Aiden seriously not have a secret identity and he’s just been going around with the same last name as the guy who blew up the plane THIS WHOLE SHOW IS ABOUT and nobody has noticed up until this point?? That seems like a strange oversight to me???
At some point we try to determine if any Pokemon can truly sum up the essence of Victoria (spoiler alert: Freiza???)
Look, let’s face it: whatever important stuff might or might not happen in this episode, the only thing worth caring about is the masquerade, and what a masquerade it’s been! While treachery abounds and disasters pop off like champagne corks all over the island (thanks a lot, Aiden!!) Victoria’s haunting by THE PAHST comes to a canonical head when the specters of her THE PAHST come back to haint her at the very masquerade party she worked so hard on all month to make sure it was spooky-HYPHEN-fun. The *fun* part was important, Ashley, didn’t you get the iMemo?? This masquerade ball isn’t spooky-HYPHEN-fun, it’s just spooky, and that’s not ANY kind of fun, hyphen or no! Also, who keeps playing Wagner or maybe Mozart everywhere it’s starting to piss me off and make me feel faint.
This is a worse masquerade than the one Danny’s impromptu incarceration canceled last year!!! >:| And all this after Victoria gots this close to inducting Charlotte into the Sisterhood of the Time Traveling Past Balcony until she gets bored and forgets she’s supposed to care about her daughter when–overcome by the eddying currents of the TIME BALCONY–she remembers she has not one, but two sons for which she bears a deep unrequited love about which she allows absolutely no introspection about the whats and/or whens of her actions that may’ve caused her maternal love to be unrequited in the first place (2x spoiler alert: don’t leave your baby on some doorstep if you don’t want him to send you ominous black roses thirty years later).
Topics for Consideration:
The Grasyon/Porter Secret Anime Code 4 Foolin’ The Vox Potpurri
How To Be A Big, Strong Man
The Dick Cerberus
Tequila Placenta: Not Real.
Tinctures Made From Tequila and Placenta: ALL TOO REAL.
Charlotte, Eat Your Saucy Pud.