When my husband and I went to see The Sixth Sense in the theater, we were prewarned that we should expect A GAME-CHANGING TWIST! While I sat down with my bag of popcorn that was bigger than my face and wondered about why the young Mischa Barton needed to vomit so much in the movie, my husband had been thinking about the game-changing twist. And around the time that Mischa Barton was vomiting, he turned to me and said this:

“Bruce Willis is dead.”

And, of course, if you have seen the Sixth Sense, you know that he was right. Bruce Willis was, in fact, one of the dead people that pre-puffy-faced Haley Joel Osment saw.

And, of course, if you haven’t seen the Sixth Sense, (SURPRISE! SPOILER ALERT!) you are about 13 years late to the party.

When I started reading the Harry Potter series in 2011, I went  in knowing things. Because I may own this Threadless t-shirt, I already knew that Snape kills Dumbledore. Because I watch the talk show circuit, I already knew that Ron and Hermione engage in some last-movie snogging. It’s kind of the nature of the beast.

And guess what?

I was okay with it. I swear, it didn’t take away from my love of the series. Not even a little bit. To be honest, I kind of assumed that Dumbledore was going to die and I kind of assumed that Ron and Hermione were going to get it on. I still wanted to see how it happened. Spoilers didn’t change that.

So, I guess I need to assume that because I started watching The Wire in 2011, I go in knowing things. And I do. I know that Omar dies. I know that season 2 is controversial—some people loved it, some people hated it. And Jesus, I know about D’Angelo Barksdale. And I’m almost as angry about that as I am about Wallace. WALLACE. I am still so angry about Wallace.

Best scene in television ever? Possibly.

D’Angelo: Where’s Wallace? Where the fuck is Wallace? Huh? Huh? String? String? Look at me! Where the fuck is Wallace? HUH!? I don’t want this Payless-wearing motherfucker representing me. I’ma get my own man. So just get back in your car and get the fuck back down south.
Stringer: A’ight, you stupid motherfucker, you made your decision.
D’Angelo: Yeah, I made my decision. Where’s Wallace at? Where the fuck is Wallace? Where’s Wallace, String? String! Where the fuck is Wallace? Huh? Stringer?!

But to be honest, I kind of assume that everyone on The Wire is going to die. And knowing certain things? It doesn’t change the experience. Even if you know certain things, you don’t know everything. You don’t know exactly when or how or why it’s coming. You don’t know certain circumstances. You don’t know that stupid D’Angelo Barksdale is going to make you cry giant crocodile tears while begging Stringer Bell to tell him what happened to Wallace.

And so, here is a newsflash for all of you; a spoiler, if you will.

Spoilers are everywhere.

They are unavoidable. Twitter, Facebook, blogs, Gawker.com. People are talking about pop culture. They are talking about movies, television shows, books. I mean, I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t get on Twitter at exactly one minute after A BIG REALITY SHOW ends and be all, “Can you believe that XXXX won? XXX totally got robbed, man!” because, well, I have respect for time zones and dvrs and I get that people don’t want to spoiled right away, especially if you are right about the watch the end of a season you have been following for many, many months. I’m not that much of a dick.

But, honestly, I really am not going to wait three months for you to catch up on on your DVR if you are behind.

People! PLEASE STOP GETTING SO ANGRY WHEN SOMETHING GETS SPOILED.

Get over it.

And start watching more quickly so I can have someone to talk to.

Because I really needed to talk about the season finale of Dexter. And Survivor.

And season 2 of The Wire.