Within the first 10 minutes of last night’s Empire Season 2 premiere, Cookie donned a gorilla suit to protest mass incarceration at a #FreeLucious rally that seemed like a send-up of Black Lives Matter...
For true detectives, heaven is a place called Venezuela. Our time together is over for now, but it is not the end, fellow detectives, not unless HBO fails to pick True Detective up for a third season. Venezuela, detectives. I’ll see you there in two weeks.
If anyone is still out there reading this website, we’ve got big news: Ballers episode six was one for the baller record books—to be remembered time and time again in moments of dark despair. While the world may be crumbling around us, and night begins to fall, it is important to remember that the ballers stop balling for no one. Not even you or I. Not even anyone else. Not even other ballers. The balling is forever.
From the Ballers fan mail inbox: “Am I crazy, or is there no article for episode 5 of Ballers? How the hell am I supposed to know how HARD they BALLED?” Readers, did you really believe we’d leave you—our most loyal and dedicated ballers—stranded without a ball? What kind of operation do you think we’re running here? Time to ball out!
I play along with the charade/That doesn’t seem to be a reason to change/I feel so dirty when they start talking clues/Wanna tell them I’m a detective but I just get the blues/‘Cause she’s solving it with those eyes/Investigating with that brain, I just know it/I’m the true detective/And I wish that I had Jessie’s girl!
“[Sharp exhale] Ah. No. Fuck, fuuuuuck, fuck. [Runs fingers through hair] C’mon, no. Fuck. Huh. [Runs fingers through hair] Uh-hyenh, fuck [sharp inhale] enh. Fuck. [Sharp inhale, exhale]. Fuck! Faaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!”
We know that in the game of thrones, you win or you die. And we know who’s dead. So...who’s winning? We’ve put together a comprehensive video tracking all five seasons of HBO’s grimly set jawline spectacular Game of Thrones, so that you can quickly and easily know who’s winning, and who’s dying.
Ray Velcoro is alive. God damnit.
The true detective is dead; long live the true detective. Spoilers ahead.
Happy Father’s Day. Collin Farrell is the true detective.
Where are Tyrion and Jorah, and who attacked him? Who is that guy Daenerys is marrying? And what the fuck is going on with Theon, again?
Broadcast networks are in the midst of casting the pilots from which they'll be picking their show lineups for the upcoming fall season, and Nellie Andreeva, Deadline's veteran TV writer, is worried. Why? Because, on the heels of minority-lead series seeing sky-high Nielsen ratings, television is in danger of becoming...too diverse.
Are you sitting down? Please do so if not because the bomb I'm about to aggregate on your ass just might knock you over. Ready?
Warning: Spoilers ahead.
Warning: spoilers ahead.
It is unquestionably insane to be angry at a television show. But check me into a padded room this week, I suppose. I am in a fight with Game of Thrones. (Beware to all who click here: I am about to seriously spoil anyone who hasn't read the books.)
What's a "trial by combat"? Where are Stannis and Davos? Who is Hizdahr zo Loraq?
What's the deal with the Bloody Gate? What's going on with Bran and Jojen's visions? And how long will it take for Brienne and Podrick to get to the Wall, exactly?
Everybody told me that New Yorkers were a bit harsh but I didn't really believe it, because I can't believe people really vary that much from place to place, that the differences between us are ever going to be as dramatic as the similarities. And of course, everybody was wrong. New Yorkers are great. In Texas we're nice because we don't know any better. But in New York, I found people everywhere who were kind, and helpful, and all the things everyone says they're not.
