Much like poor, stranded Adrian Veidt on his little wooden boat, I too pull theories out of the murky depths only to toss them back like discarded clone babies when they turn out to be mostly, if not completely wrong.
Four episodes down and Watchmen remains an impenetrable mystery box filled with deity dildos and mysterious lubed-up vigilantes where it’s kind’ve impossible to tell what’s a red herring and what’s true.
Or, you know, what’s Trieu.
“If You Don’t Like My Story, Write Your Own”—named after a line from Chinua Achebe’s …
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