For some unknown, godforsaken reason, I decided to rewatch Supernatural this year. Yes. All of it. I had only ever seen random episodes and maybe I watched seasons 1-5 during a depressive episode in college, but I dropped off around 2014, and by god, that show went until 2020 and I was going to watch it. So I did. Every single episode. It took six months of near-constant viewing but I am a goddamn trooper and I found ways to make it fun. From pointing out the outdated gay jokes to lamenting the point when the tasteless gay jokes stopped coming (darn you Supernatural writers, where is your courage?), I suffered, I laughed, I teared up a little. This show, at so many points, really says something about Americana, masculinity, power, cycles of abuse, and fandom. And at so many other points, it fails. Miserably. The ending? Whew. I could go into that one, but I’ll resist. Regardless, this year I watched every fucking moment of Super-fucking-natural—all 356 episodes—and I don’t regret it even for second. RIP Dean Winchester, you’ll always be famous. – Linda Codega
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