I’ve been on a little bit of a David Lynch kick past couple days. I am, in fact, 93.33% of the way through the original run of Twin Peaks, which I had previously abandoned during episode 26 (that’s right about when they start in on the whole beauty pageant subplot and someone fucks an old man to death). I am told that David Lynch started giving a shit about Twin Peaks again right when the network decided that things were not going to get better, so I am looking forward to finally seeing the last episode for the very first time.
When I was kicked back and ready to watch an episode before bed last night I got sidetracked, because I read the following line from Mr. Lynch’s Wikipedia page:
That drops a brick on the brake pedal, don’t it? I sat in bed, frowning, trying to parse that sentence. I failed. Mental processes fractured and jagged and looped back unto themselves. My analytic faculties broke down under an onslaught of endlessly recursive halting problems. I could not, for the life of me, imagine what a David Lynch sitcom starring anthropoid rabbits would be possibly be like.
Turns out, it’s like this:
I think I get the basic joke. I can only imagine that watching an un-dubbed taping of Two and a Half Men must also have been an enormously disconcerting experience, with Charley Sheen entering a room and freeze-framing with a lunatic grin deforming his face while the imaginary audience gets it’s shit under control.
So that much makes sense. The rest of it is a whole other kind of a thing.