Raise your hand if you got a good, hard sucker-punch to the gut this week when you heard that David Lynch, master of the deliciously bent, had died. I know. Me too. Mr. Lynch gave us so much. He tickled our collective creepy bone, took us on journeys into souls (The Elephant Man) and space (Dune), tossed us some neo-noir (Mulholland Drive) and pulled us behind the bushes to gossip about sex, booze and suicide […]