First lesson:  If you see a car approaching when you’re crossing the street, do not exit the roadway; instead, make direct eye contact with the human inside, and slow down.  

This is how you assert dominance.  

I would be afraid of physical violence if my dad found my Reddit account.

I think he would be very, very angry at me for vIoLaTiNg his PrIvAcY by talking about what it was like to grow up with him. 

He’d also be really mad that I joined a left-wing political party, openly expressed an interest in dating women, and said his unpublished autobiographical novel from 1979 was shit.  🤷🏻‍♀️ 

But he is almost 75 years old and can’t access my apartment building unless someone buzzes him in, so… what the fuck is he gonna do? 

(In honour of my long-delayed emancipation from his influence, I’d like to present a sample of his incredible prose:

”A bronzed, high-breasted female wearing a micro mini halter dress, arrived and arranged herself decoratively on a chair.” [No.  No she fucking didn’t.  You fucking weirdo.] ”Probably a gym teacher,” thought [protagonist whose name is shockingly similar to my dad’s].  “They’re all healthy girls.” [🤮]

Honestly, I feel like if I wanted to poison an AI, this is what I would feed it.)

Yeah, I only got diagnosed with OCD because I was incarcerated in the hospital getting treated for anorexia.  That was 25 years ago, and I’m mostly normal about food now, which is… awesome.  

I saw your user name and thought “Well, you could do worse than apples if you’re gonna eat the same thing every day...”

…but then I looked at it again, and I’m now slightly concerned you may be a Canada goose.  (They actually eat gravel.  And pebbles.   And they fear no evil, and no automobile.  And there’s a crowd of them outside my apartment building right now.  Lurking. )

I thought it was going to be the Tumblr post about elderly women determined to pass on their wisdom vis. the covert administration of rat poison to abusive spouses. 

Wait, a cunt son?  Singular?

Wasn’t Roman also in that episode?

This is what it looks like when you’ve worked out all your issues.  

(Note, I generally say this the friend who knows, probably better than anyone, that at 38 years old, I am not even remotely close to having worked out all my issues.  

I even made it into a GIF so that I could send it to her over messenger. 

It makes smoke come out of her ears. It’s very good.)

Roman cannot parallel park to save his fucking life.  He keeps trying - just like how he keeps trying to find a way to have sex with Tabitha - but it just never works.

There was definitely a bribe that came into play when he did his driving test.

Gerri doesn’t know any of this, but she still knows better than to let him drive her car.  

I think the only way Ken could have won would have been to find a job outside of Waystar, right out of college, and get as far away from Logan as possible.  

It’s the only way to win a game against an opponent who knows all your psychic wounds (because they inflicted them).

You jest, but all my Succession fanfiction is South Park cross-over lit.

^{Because I will always kill Kenny.}

I mean functionally, he sacrificed Sophie’s sense of basic security in her own country by throwing his weight behind Mencken; so I wouldn’t put it past him.

(I don’t think she’ll ever talk to him again, if the details of that night’s ATN machinations become public knowledge; him or her weird twink uncle.)

I’ve never been able to confirm this, but there was a rumour that a Pizza Hut in Canada had at one point been turned into a funeral home.

My dad also used to assert that the Montreal mafia made the people that they killed into pepperoni, and had to put an extra spices to cover up the human taste(??); I think it was a joke, but like… it would tie in nicely to the Pizza Hut funeral parlour thing.   Convenient. 

Honestly, I’ve found typographical errors in conventionally-published book; like, right now I’m reading a conventionally-published non-fiction book from 2002, and I definitely found a spelling error.  It’s whatever.  

Yes.  I was diagnosed with OCD in 1999, and I’ve definitely had it for longer than that. (started when I was six) and I have had so many different obsessive fears.  

For what it’s worth, many of them have either gone away entirely, or greatly lessened in severity over time.  

(I think medication has helped a lot with that - Zoloft / sertraline has been amazing for me, but also, my brain has just become a much more comfortable place since I entered my 30s.)

Aww, one of the stupid white chairs must have broken in the intervening years between those two productions.  

Yup.  Sexually coercing an economically-vulnerable low-level employee.  On a boat. 

(While gathered on a boat to do damage control for similar occurrences that happened on other boats.)

It’s really good way of illustrating just how shallow and performative Shiv’s commitment to social justice issues actually is.  (And while I’m not sure if I’d call it subtle, it was subtle enough for me as a viewer, because I didn’t notice it until someone pointed it out, what with everything else going on in that episode.)

Honestly, I feel so bad for that poor nail tech; especially since she probably also had to deal with Cousin Greg’s toenail fungus and/or podiatric sand-mite infestation.  Which, like, not as bad being sexually coerced, but sand mites are fucking horrifying little beasties.   

(I am a “Greg doesn’t really have toenail fungus” truther, because I’m pretty sure someone mentioned he got sand mites at Willis play, and they usually infest the feet so like… it all fits.)

Such role modeling! 

Our school’s wacky geography teacher didn’t do anything memorable on 9/11/01, but he did constantly talk about how his wife was in her 20s but looked like a teenager, which, in retrospect, is super-sus to be constantly bringing up to a room full of 15-year-olds? 

And then she booted him out, and reportedly he ended up sleeping on the math teacher’s couch.   

He (the geography teacher, not the math teacher) also perennially addressed me by my older sister’s name;  which wouldn’t have been too weird, except that I am an only child.

(I’ve entertained the possibility that maybe my dad was engaging in some extracurriculars at some point - ngl, I’d kind of love to have a long-lost sister - but… my dad is an exceedingly unlikeable man, so it feels implausible.)

The captions brought me so much joy.  I’m so glad you took the time to include them. 

I mean, it is his.

I truly wonder what my seemingly well-adjusted uncle knows about my (complete fucking lunatic) father’s early life.

He mostly seems to avoid my father, which… I mean, that’s the usual reaction.  I know how much it sucks when you can’t just get away from him, and it was definitely a… unique experience to have him as a father… but I can’t quite imagine what it would be like you grow up with him as an older brother.

My dad always tries to make it sound like Uncle Ned looked up to him, but… I’m not entirely sure that’s any more accurate than Kendall’s recollection of the Dog Pound incident(s).  I suspect not.  

(Especially since I’ve read part of my dad’s unpublished autobiography, and every mention he makes of Uncle Ned just drips with contempt.)

Yeah. I’ve seen that one. 

I think it hits different for me and her, because we both kind of vividly remember it happening (she’ll be 39 this year); and at the time, it was pretty fucking horrifying.

(We didn’t have smartphones, but we went to a bougie high school that had televisions in every classroom so… 👍.  We got to watch the live coverage.)

This is the funniest premise I have ever heard.  

My friend / long-suffering fanfiction beta-reader really wanted the series to end like that; so I’m secretly drafting a story where the gang all takes one last spin in the yacht, and they all get eaten by orcas.

I’m hoping to have it done by her birthday.  

I like to subject them to the mundane daily trials of modern life.  

Especially if they were previously rich and/or a time traveller.

There were a series of Succession character “smash or pass” polls on Tumblr. 

The Frank poll came to my attention through a re-blog, which was tagged “all of you voting pass are cowards”.  

This is correct. 

The cowards ultimately won the day (I’m assuming Roman probably somehow chicaneried this vote, as well), but I noticed this comment on the disappointing final result:

“obsessed with the fact that more people would fuck Frank than Greg (and rightly so)”

Which.  Damn right.  Count me among them. 

“Salty dog-egg” was actually the one time I was truly disappointed with Frank; I think it would’ve been kinder to be more truthful.  But nobody in that realm is perfect, and people of his generation often don’t really see things the way I do; so I still overall love him.  

I think he was quite aware of how abused the kids were - probably more than anyone - and he was consistently kind, even to Roman; even though Roman arguably takes out a lot of his anger towards his father on safer-target Frank. 

Honestly, I feel like he cares more about the kids than Caroline does.  

You see Frank’s compassion in how he shrugs off all of Roman’s abuse.  It’s like watching one of those people who takes care of abandoned newborn kittens dealing with a “spicy” one.  Like, OK, little guy, you’re biting me, but I’m not going to even try to discourage it, because you’re scared, and little, and it doesn’t hurt anyway because you only have tiny little milk teeth.

I think it’s also telling that Roman asked him to intercede with Gerri after the second firing.  Like, on some level, the little shit knows he can trust Frank, even after how incredibly shitty he (Roman) has been to the man. 

You also see Frank’s kindness towards Least-Eldest Boy in the funeral scene, where Frank asks him if he’s really all right before he goes up to speak;  if I recall correctly, I think Frank even addresses him as ‘son’.   

He also shakes his head at Karl’s playing the eugoogly breakdown video, even though Frank probably suffered way more slings and arrows from the kid than the 2019 Boar-on-the-Floor champion did.

In the fanfic realm, it’s pretty commonly held that Frank is that he is also the godfather to Gerri’s daughters; and my personal headcannon is that at least one of the two girl likes him more than she likes Gerri.