When has Dexter Morgan passed the point of no return? When has the dude finally fucked up far too righteously to recover from? I ask, because if the dude hasn’t gotten there yet, he’s getting precariously close. If he hasn’t crossed the Rubicon, he’s certainly nuzzling up next to it.

Here’s a point for Would-Be savers of rape and homicide victims: when you’re trying to calm them down, don’t have them in a headlock. If you’re trying to assure them that they’re okay, don’t do it while administering a rear naked chokehold. Our boy Dexter misses that essential point in this episode, while trying to calm down the female he saved from Boyd’s writhing stache of prowess, Lumen.

“No no, seriously calm down! Everything is cool! Ignore the shed I’ve got you locked in, or the fast that I’m trying to give you the Boston Crab, or that I killed someone. Everything is fine. Dope. Solid even.”

Dexter spends the entire episode spiraling out of control. His life is in tatters, his existential status a tailspin of tremendous splendor. The dude just offed the coolest mustache in the state of Florida. Dang. His hot Irish baby sitter just quit. Double dang. And some uppity broad who isn’t cool with getting locked up in alligator country needs to be dealt with.

What’s a dude to do?

Why, consult Harry!

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