I’m humiliated that I still can’t figure how to permanently disable messages from a child’s phone while semi-permanently disabling other apps. If you know, don’t tell me. That’s how royally my own ego cannot handle it right now. I cannot handle how much time I spend right now doing things I don’t want to be doing. I want to be reading a book about resilient pastors. Not being resilient myself. But not getting what you want is the grist of any good story—or can be, at least, if your ego will let it—in life and t.v. finales. And in that regard it’s been a good week. Light spoilers ahead.
The Succession gang was satisfyingly thwarted. (As a joke now, Rush and I limply clasp hands the way Shiv and Tom do at the end.) Honestly, it took a while to stomach this show’s darkness. I stopped watching early on after declaring “I do not need this in my life,” only to pick it up later with new appreciation for its dark humor. (If you’re mourning the loss of this humor, too, I highly recommend the memoir My Mess Is a Bit of Life: Adventures in Anxiety by show writer Georgia Pritchett.)
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