I mean, really, it is totally joyless for me now. What a shame. But I'm not giving up yet. Especially after the Seven-style "What's in the f-ing box?" ending. Mike says it's Sara's head. If so, yuck. I hope she doesn't go out that way. Lame.
I'm sick of Lincoln's sweaty barrel chest. No shower in his hotel room? I'm sick of characters writing codes and speaking in codes. I don't think I could make up a code on the spot if I tried, let alone make up one someone else would be able to understand. I'm sick of Mahone being stuck on this show when he should have his own spin-off of just twitching and raging for 47 minutes each week.
The writers are about to strike in Hollywood, and this show might be the better for it.
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