I have a question, when did Quentin ever work? 

No kidding. Quentin with a hammer in his hand, opening a crate. Seemed strange to me for some reason.

Dig it. That "painting" isn't even on canvas. Sam Evans, where is thy brush? Sam may not have been the greatest artist, but he knew what the hell he was doing.

Anyway, I loved Mr. Selby's performance in this episode. He plays a loony so well.

Hey, how do you do spoiler thing? I wanted to say something, but not wreck it for anybody else.

Nope. Never got around to drawing Magda.

Wicked nice bite shot there. Zowee!

"Write what I told you to write." Um, Barn, that's what bio writers do. And you ought to be quite familiar with this concept since you are an avid reader.

Ah, the familiar glass-throwing Quentin is back. I started a drawing once that has Quentin knealing before the fireplace, strewn with broken glasses that he had deposited in his fits of... well, his fits.

Mr. Frid is outstanding in this episode. How he remembered all the dialogue is beside me. But he's great! There's a little blip where he should have used "whom" instead of "who", but other than that (and nobody on the planet understands who and whom), he is great!
Actually, the secret in grammar land is if you can replace "him" with "whom", you're good to go. But who cares?

I am so in tune to the creepy music and the creepy seance business. Eenie meenie, chili beanie...the spirits are about to speak!!!

Thanks for making me pee, Holy Water! I got tears in my eyes!!

A: "Just before...my sister died, she felt a little prick at her neck."
Roger: "Oh I can explain that... little prick was me!"

Thanks. Kills me that Yaeger is always finding trays to see his magnificent self in when there's a mirror hanging on the wall in the lab.


JY: Silver tray within my hands, am I not the fairest in the land? Am I not...wait a minute. Is that a smudge on the tray or a smirch on my face?!

I'm in neurological hell and am humiliated by the fact that I have to mention it, but it's impossible to keep it in.   I'm begging whoever aloud just to let me sleep and if I can't it's not only hell for me, but I can't go out and do work I have to do to hold onto my shelter.    I can't talk on the phone to anyone who's supposed to be helping and make any sense.   The eye pressure is horrific.    I'd give everything for at least five hours of sleep right now.    No matter who says they'll help it's always me dealing with it all here in this apt. alone and it's destroying me.   I'll shut up now.

I am feeling your pain, Holy Water. I am just about in the same boat myself. Four, maybe five hours sleep per night the past three weeks. I am having a hard time functioning at work and have become a major bitch.

I had occasion last night to try "Hoffman House" tartar sauce again.   It's okay if you aren't all that obsessed with what things taste like.

Is the flavor of the sauce that bad or is it that it overpowers the seafood or both?

Is that the Rose Red house that Stephen King wrote about?

OK. I am still baffled as to how many men Angelique entertained and whether or not Quentin knew about these trysts.

The name Gladwell does not suit this man. Sorrypit would have been better. Ew, this man just gives me the heebie jeebies. I keep telling myself that this was an actor, he may have have children that loved him...

Maybe that concoction that Cyrus is drinking is cherry Coke mixed with baking soda. Maybe someone attending this year's Fest will ask him.

Hannah - the lipstick... it's sort of a shade of rusty Oldsmobile. Lose it, babe.

I am loving the creepy music in these eps. House on Haunted Hill creepy, Vincent Price stuff. Love it.

Ah, the 70's. Matching shirts and ties. No. Wait a minute. The color just came back. But I'm not sure what colors.

Question of the day for all you amateur med examiners out there - how long does it take for a body to become a skeleton? Just when did Angelique have Dameon Killed?