Nothing important happens on the AD front.
Yes, I was foolish enough to hope that maybe, with one final season premiere to attempt, that PLL would somehow claw its way out of the swamp of bullshittery in which it has mired itself.
And again, it didn’t.
Sink ever lower, show.
And the truth is that since the soaring episode 2, this season has been coasting along.
I suspect we’re just going through a lot of place-setting to end in a textbook Bates bombshell climax to the season, but I bitched on Game of Thrones for overindulging on that. So I have to bitch on it here, too.
A bitch on you, Bates Motel.
I fucking told you.
Oh, get real. You know better than to trust anything PLL shows you.
If they can retcon Mona’s dead body, then a flimsy text isn’t out of the question.
Can you imagine, though?
Well who could have predicted it, but I might have to eat my words about PLL taking the inevitable plunge back into unwatchable, retarded shit territory.
Because damn, this ship is crooked, but I must concede, it’s yet to capsize.
Just hold on for two more episodes. Please.
Yes, not even Ella and Byron’s re-wedding, as officiated by fucking Aria, no less, can out-cheese the Suddenly Soulmates subplot of Alison and Doctor Dude.
As long as nobody is getting menaced by a ute in a parking lot, I’m happy.