I have to fine recipes for all the crow I’m about to eat. Torchwood managed to redeem itself in the end (mostly).
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I have to fine recipes for all the crow I’m about to eat. Torchwood managed to redeem itself in the end (mostly).
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I’m tired of ripping on this show, so I’m going to talk about the one thing that has consistently made me happy this season: Jilly Kitziinger’s wardrobe.
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We’re having a serious discussion at Pink Raygun Galactic Headquarters about which is worse: Starz’s Torchwood or Syfy’s Flash Gordon. It causes me great pain that it’s come to this.
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I think my DVR is looking out for me. The recording of last Friday’s Torchwood wouldn’t play past the Starz logo no matter what troubleshooting tricks I applied as if the DVR was saying, “Lisa, you really don’t want to go there.”
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Torchwood, how you’ve disappointed me. This must be what my mom felt like when I told her I was majoring in English. And planned to be a teacher.
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I think I’m the only one who finds Oswald Danes’ apotheosis to be feasible. It’s feasible because Americans are a bunch of infantile chumps.
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This episode is so full of WTF I want to shake Russell T. Davies and scream, “You know what you did!!!”
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Gwen Cooper, welcome to America. I hope you’ll stay a while. And maybe be my best friend.
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