Like a tweet sent at 4 a.m. by the president, American Horror Story usually leaves us with far more questions than answers. Each week, we’re going to take a deeper look into every question the anthology gore-a-palooza needs to A.

“Holes” was certainly an interesting episode, in that it took all that was intriguing about American Horror Story: Cult—Who are these clowns? What are they doing? Why are they doing it?—and just sort of...explained it all. Whim, wham, thanks for cumming all over the frozen vegetables, the cult is exactly what you thought it was. Namely: they are a few disenfranchised idiots led by a charismatic yet clearly insane millennial, who dress up like clowns to spread fear but then murder anyone who saw them dressed as clowns. Really, the only question left is if 13 nails to the head is actually the World Record. (All I could find is this guy who hammers nails with his head, which is both more entertaining and a better metaphor for America.) And, alright, I guess there’s a few more:

What’s with all the mentions of holes?

You can point to the episode title itself, yeah, but the dialogue and action within also had more “holes” than Courtney Love at a Shia Labeouf movie marathon. “There’s all sorts of holes in your story,” Bob Thompson tells news report by day, horrific clown murderer by night Beverly Hope. Very soon after, cut to Ally describing the bug-infested holes in her neck that haunt her dreams to her psychiatrist by day, harvester of dead parents by night, Rudy Vincent. “I’ve always been afraid of holes,” she says. As if to drive the point home, Ivy explains, in flashback, that the couple is digging themselves “into a hole, financially.”

If that sly doublespeak wasn’t enough, Harrison Wilton eventually sticks his wife Meadow into an actual hole, seemingly burying her alive.

So...what’s up? Maybe it’s foreshadowing, or sly reference to a plot-point we’re missing. Or maybe it’s symbolic of the massive hole currently in the center of America’s moral compass; a yawning maw of toxic nothingness in which we just toss our most vile opinions 24/7 along with the endlessly bleak news cycle, until, like the gimp hanging from Bob’s attic ceiling, we’re blind and deaf to what’s actually happening around us because, admit it or not, we like the torture, content just dangling around until the clowns secretly in charge end it all.

Or maybe holes are just scary. Dude, I don’t know.

How complicit is Dr. Rudy Vincent?

The big moment from “Holes”—besides the gruesome death of R.J., whoever in the blue hell R.J. was—was the reveal that Dr. Rudy Vincent is the third sibling of Kai and Winter Anderson. Now, on the hierarchy of horrific acts carried out in this episode ranked from worst to least-worst, it goes 1) Ruining Taco Tuesday, 2) Stabbing an innocent man and his equally-innocent gimp to death while wearing a clown mask, and 3) leaving your parents’ corpses in their bedroom to decompose so you can collect their disability checks. Which is to say, Dr. Rudy Vincent is confirmed sketchy as fuck, but not quite sketchy enough to join his younger brother’s fear cult. Not yet, at least.

But let’s look back on his history. In episode one, Ally is in his office rattling off her list of phobias—foremost clowns and the dark—and next thing you know her electricity is being cut off and clowns are breaking into the house. Episode three, a woman named Rosie describes her fear of being buried alive, next thing you know her and her husband Mark are being shoved into twin coffins. Here, Ally is back to explicitly talk about her fear of holes, and wouldn’t ya know it, she just happens to stumble upon Meadow, in a hole.

I’m not saying dude has drank the Kool-Aid, I’m just suggesting he’s supplying the packets.

So, Kai Anderson is just a weird idiot, right?

Oh yeah, big time. Something “Holes” made explicitly clear is that—like all cult leaders—Kai Anderson is vastly less impressive than his grandstanding and nail-gun wielding would have you believe. That’s not to say witnessing your parents’ murder-suicide isn’t horribly traumatic, but PTSD alone does not a homicidal cult leader make. What’s somehow more telling is that, on the night of his parents’ deaths, he was browsing the Reddit forum known as “The Red Pill,” arguably the most depressing page on the entire internet. I’d link to it but reader, I care for your mental well-being. All you need to know is that it’s practically a mini-cult all on its own, a cesspool of every dude ever fired for sexual harassment who didn’t understand why, discussing “sexual strategy in a culture increasingly lacking a positive identity for men.” World-changers and revolution-leaders don’t browse that place, but someone on your timeline who got unreasonably furious about Wonder Woman probably does.

Another example: Kai encourages his followers to chant Satanic slogans during their murders, “like that movie Paradise Lost I saw on HBO once.” To make a decades-long story short, Paradise Lost is a documentary about Damian Echols, Jessie Misskelley, Jr., and Jason Baldwin—the West Memphis Three—who were not only convicted and charged with life imprisonment in 1994 for a murder the community believed to be a Satanic ritual, but released from prison 18 years later due to new evidence. Kai Anderson saw that story and was like, “yes, that is a good and healthy situation that was beneficial for everyone involved.” Like every single person who has ever posted on The Red Pill, Kai Anderson saw a scenario, and then took the exact wrong lesson from that scenario.

Basically, if Kai’s origin story is legit—which is suspect, because Beverly did say he “told everyone a different story”—it plants him among every other cult leader in existence; an empty human being spouting nonsense disguised as gospel, who preys on a community’s fear to rise to a higher pedestal, from which they will continue to spew more nonsense. Luckily, Kai is limited to becoming a “goddamn city councilman,” and America is far too advanced a populace to elect someone like that to a position any higher. Nope. Nope, nope, nope.