An Open Letter to Mr. Robot: OMFG, Thank You!

Dear Mr. Robot, *R. Kelly’s “You Saved Me” plays in the background* I just…*hands over mouth* …damn it I told myself I wasn’t gonna ugly-cry over the joy of this… *thug tears free fall from eyes* …I just wanna say thank you. *6 god prayer hands in the air* Honestly, from the bottom of my Paypal account. Y’all saved the summer. You didn’t have to do it, but you did, and I appreciate that.

Like the rest of America I was hyped up for that True Detective Season 2. It didn’t matter the cast was ehhhhh, I was down for the cause… until the cause turned out to be more painful than cats that stop you on the street, clipboard in hand, trying to talk about the importance of glacier algae that’s going extinct and why you should care. Maybe I should care but I fucking don’t, man. I don’t, yo. I hate you, that clipboard you’re holding, and this conversation you’re forcing on me even though I had headphones on. That’s what True Detective season 2 was, a forced fuckin’ conversation that you had to finish. It was safe to say this summer was a goddamn bust. That is, until you glorious muthafuckas came on the scene out of nowhere, talkin’ bout “FIRST LEMME HOP OUT THE MF’N TV GUIDE.”

I ain’t even hear about y’all on Tumblr. You dropped on the scene like Beyonce’s secret album. I didn’t wanna try y’all at first, I’ma be honest. I was still waiting outside HBO everyday at midday when the sun was highest in the sky, harassing their staff for my time back, plus interest. Then I finally …