So it's clearly not a good idea to go to Westworld as a couple, Groupons be damned. But even when leaving you're S.O. at home, you're still not in the clear. One month into the opening of Westworld, everyone will have figured out that it's basically the incognito browser of theme parks. And how would you ever know your spouse stuck to that laminated Do's and Don'ts list you agreed upon beforehand? Just be ready to return to a lifetime of plain ham sandwiches, because nothing will compare to that robotic orgy hoagie you indulged while Anthony Hopkins leered at you from the corner.

And we haven't even talked about all of the billions of hilariously incompatible genitals. Phalluses could be of any shape, vaginas could be magic midi-chlorian cloaca, and your nude partner's erogenous zone could be literal light years away (because it's a tree on a forest planet in another damn galaxy, or at least that's what they tell you). To sum things up, if you're not sleeping with one of those pig vikings who worked for Jabba the Hutt, you're doing it wrong.

Also, the paintings in Hogwarts Castle are all sentient beings you can hang up in your hall -- or your secret room with no windows. A wizard could cater to every bizarre fetish that popped into their fantastical head, pay some gnome or kobold or manticore to paint it, and have some magic doodles act out every single perversion on God's green earth. The fact that they get any non-smutty wizardry done is an absolute miracle.

When you look at the couples in TWD, they're all monogamous. Which would be fine if this was a bad soap opera about normal everyday life, but this is a bad soap opera in a world wherein a significant proportion of humankind is dead (and/or walking). What they need isn't a way back to the good ol' days of married life and picket fences, but a brave new world of key parties, because the only way to outlive hordes of walkers is with hordes of babies.

Yes, in order to maximize their chances at successfully repopulating the globe, everyone needs to be doing it with everyone. That's the only way they, as we previously noted, can overcome getting stuck in what we're terming "the incest valley." That means that all of the various factions in this world, from Rick's Gang to the Saviors to the Garbage People, need to let go of their weapons and join hands (and whatever else) to reboot the human race.

In The Truman Show, the live feed of his life cuts away right as the naughty stuff happens, and the entire audience knows this, along with every little thing that cooks Truman's butter. Upon leaving the dome at the film's end, you know Truman was immediately sent links to the millions of blogs that figured out the exact childhood cartoon characters who ushered in his sexual awakening.

But when Truman gets out, he now must ask himself: "Who did I have sex with my entire life?" After all, every person he ever knew turned out to be a card-carrying SAG/AFTRA member. Whenever he fell in love and/or had sex, it was in a script! It's pretty clear that his "wife" never had any romantic feelings for the guy, so this was nothing but a paid gig to her. That has to be tricky IMDb page to fill in.

Paramount PicturesDid she advertise sex toys and lube mid-act? We have to know.

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