For Everyone Still Mourning "Pushing Daisies"
The TV gods took Hannibal away from us this week, and it's dredging up all sorts of memories. THIS WOUND WILL NEVER HEAL.
It's been six years since Pushing Daisies aired its last episode.
And yet still we grieve.
Remember this beautiful show?
That color scheme alone was like a balm to the soul.
Our garbage world has never looked so beautiful as it does through the lens of a Bryan Fuller show.
Nor will any other human male live up to the gawky beautifulness of Ned the Piemaker.
How can we not continue to long for a diner whose waitresses sing melancholy love songs while closing up?
And how can we not still lust after that flawless spinster life Chuck's aunts modeled for us?
And how can we not mourn the fact that we lost the ability to see what kind of perfect vintage concoction Chuck would wear next?
How are we supposed to feel joy without this cast smiling back at us?
Or even scowling back at us, for that matter?
WHAT CRUEL ABYSS IS THIS? LO, IF WE COULD ONLY HAVE NED'S POWER.
WHY MUST THE WORLD BE A THIEF OF JOY?
WATCHING THIS SHOW WAS LIKE BEING HUGGED BY SUNSHINE.
DOES ROMANCE EVEN EXIST ANYMORE WITHOUT NED AND CHUCK???
HAHAHAHA, I'M FINE, I SWEAR.
This show was just joy incarnate, that's all.
It's been six years and I still don't know what to do without it.
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