Dr. Bigelow Must Die

If I could bring a fictional character to life, it would be Dr. Bigelow from Louie. Look at some of the nonsense he spouts.

This is love — missing her because she’s gone, wanting to die. You’re so lucky. You’re like a walking poem. Would you rather be some kind of a fantasy? Some kind of a Disney ride? Is that what you want?

Don’t you see? This is the good part. This is what you’ve been digging for all this time.

Now you finally have it in your hand — this sweet nugget of love, sweet, sad love, and you want to throw it away. You’ve got it all wrong.

That’s strange. I don’t consider myself lucky and I certainly don’t consider this the “good” part. I also have no desire to be a lugubrious walking poem. What good is that?!?

My fondest wish is that I could be with the girl that I’ve been dreaming about for the past few months. That would be lucky. I really don’t see the upside to heartbreak and depression.

But wait, there’s more!

The bad part is when you forget her — when you don’t care about her, when you don’t care about anything.

The bad part is coming, so enjoy the heartbreak while you can, for God’s sakes.

Yes, because heartbreak is oh so enjoyable. I’m actually hoping to get to the “bad” part he’s referring to. Things would be exponentially easier if I didn’t care about anything or anyone. That’s what I’m striving to do.

So F*ck you Dr. Bigelow. If I had magical powers, I would bring you to life just so I could smash your skull with a baseball bat.

Since I lack the required conjuring skills, perhaps I should go after the writers instead. *sigh* This is why I try not to watch much television.

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