Santa Clarita Diet – The Dark Comedy

A/N: Spoiler Alert


Let me start out by saying that I don’t get horror.

Why would you pay someone to scare you? Why spend your (more or less) hard-earned pay-check to be utterly disgusted by what’s in front of you?

If you’re like me, you might even close your eyes, and now you’re effectively paying money for looking at the inside of your own eyelid. Crazy, right? I don’t care for blood. I don’t care for gore. I don’t care for cannibalism, or being grossed out, or men and women being made into a human centipede. Ugh.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I know that a lot of people adore horror. Otherwise, the statement on Stephen King’s bank account would have looked a lot different. Horror just isn’t for me. At least not when it’s found on the screen.

And yet I love Santa Clarita Diet. Why? I mean it’s got blood, it’s got gore, it’s got cannibalism. Hell, it’s even got a severed, talking head.

So why do I love it?

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