Damages: Trust me
It's the season finale of Damages, and all mysteries will be revealed...
We finally learn who shot J.R.! (It was ELLEN, in the broom closet, with the revolver.)
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It's the season finale of Damages, and all mysteries will be revealed...
We finally learn who shot J.R.! (It was ELLEN, in the broom closet, with the revolver.)
Lots and lots of screaming in this second-to-last episode of Damages, plus some questions get answered, some loyalties are tested, and one all-purpose remote control joins Uncle Pete in that big living room couch cushion in the sky.
At least Pete can change the channel now.

That's right - No. 1 movie in the country, bitches. My days on cable are numbered. I'm flying out of this show on the glorious back of one Mr. Nick Cage.
Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum - I smell the scent of a backstabbing Dum...In further news, Patty nearly made me wet myself from fear (again)

Goodbye, Van Peebles (code name Dee). We hardly knew ye. Tell Uncle Pete we said "hey."
Mystery, intrigue and long-awaited for make-out sessions. Plus karaoke, Damages-style!
Won't be anything left!
Patty reminisces about her girlhood days, Frobisher's newly formed conscience retracts into his brain, and Uncle Pete makes his final farewell, for realz this time.
Well there goes the only sex symbol on this show.
Coke busts and dirty tradings and hookers, oh my! Plus, lots and lots of Uncle Pete until, well, you know...
Back off, senile. Becker wasn't nominated.
Frobisher's baaaaack!!
And he's more of a wuss than ever!
Patty gets suspicious of Ellen, Uncle Pete gets his hands dirty, Phil gets kind of dirty all over, and Wes gets even stalkier, this time with more guns. It's Damages - episode 5!
So where do vengeful master she-lawyers and their young, novice FBI informants go to get a little R&R? No, not a $59-a-night Super 8 Motel next to a toxic run-off in West Virginia. That was last week. They go to the spa, of course.

"I don't think there's enough rum in my relaxing protein shake. Luckily I've got a flask hidden in my bathrobe."
Close-up on Purcell, your favorite presumed wife slayer and mine, as he stands at a kitchen sink innocently washing dishes. Boy, this is the nicest jail sentence ever. Purcell looks so peaceful and happy and I know what you're thinking...wouldn't it be the best thing ever if "Ain't Too Proud to Beg" suddenly came on the radio and he just ...coudn't...stop from...singing for some reason, and then Glenn Close waltzes in and starts doing the happy booty side-bump dance with him and then the door opens again and its...Jeff Goldblum! And...okay, sorry. Come on, you know I've been waiting like four episodes for a 'William Hurt in the kitchen scene.'
Ironically, now they are too proud to beg