Wednesday is not only the greatest betrayal in television history but the most maddeningly trite, disturbingly vapid, and internally confused ideological train wreck I’ve ever had the deeply sorrowful displeasure of allowing to pass through my corneas. May God have mercy on Burton or whoever else was responsible while someone slapped his brand name on it, and on all of us who are fated to live in a world where something so culturally, socially, politically, and artistically noxious as this Mary-sue-lead, transparently TikTok-targeted, phone-worshipping, vaguely bigoted, backfired virtue-signaling, fake leftist capitalist “my immortal”-esque fan fiction earns a second season through what I can only be explained as manufactured consent. Something must be done about Netflix’s Wednesday. This thing is a condescending insult, especially to young people, the socially conscious, and members of marginalized and “outcast” groups who genuinely suffer from what this thing hollowly masturbates to while looking us dead in the eyes and saying “yeah, you like that, don’t you?” It is a Gatling gun of random buzzwords and empty references to social issues, grotesquely and impotently disguised and screaming “I’m commentary!” before pissing its pants, squealing like a pig, and at its most coherent offering nothing more than to demonize mental illness and make any marginalized identity out to be a mayonnaise-stained Hot Topic hoodie through Wiseau-ian dialogue, inappropriate “grittiness” for its source material and Harry Potter setting, and incessant hackery. I am shitting. I am pissing. I am standing over a warm bubble bath cradling a toaster and sobbing, chanting God’s secret name and praying that there is indeed a hell so I can be eternally punished for having given this moral abomination one fraction of a fraction of a cent.

Also it’s not a good Addams family adaptation.