I tried to watch the first episode of Season 7 after a three-year break and was reminded in the first two minutes why I had quit in the first place: the showrunner’s preoccupation with fecal matter and mangled human bodies. All that poo before the opening credits invaded my senses and put me right off my food. The autopsy scene that followed was just the icing on the cake.
The fact that three scenes in took me right back to where I’d left off three years ago (with
a reference to the red wedding) told me that not much had happened on Thrones during my hiatus and that the show moved slower than Harry Potter’s battle with Lord Voldemort.
Glacial pacing notwithstanding, how much longer will Queen Cersei hang in there? She has a new do and her stylist is fabulous, but all those scowls and scene chews wore thin by S7 E2 at just past the 30 minute mark. At least I didn’t have to suffer another randy legover between the siblings in front of a dead son’s casket (that one was over the top and too cloying even to shock).
I had to eventually skip to S7 E7 and fast forwarded a couple of times before the wall
came tumbling down. Winter has finally come and the zombies are on the march.
Slowly.
Very, very slowly.
Like this show. In its last gasps.
Someone win the game, already. I’m worn out.
stand leaving us at The Yammer to wonder how he endured the flies and stink brought about by the dead elephant.
walked through the doors of the Toronto Congress Centre with a wobbly uncertainty. I felt goddamned ashamed. After decades of self-improvement, I still felt like that kid on the playground, the one that doesn’t look right and probably never will.
I mopped my sloppy brow. Now measuring in at 5’11,” I remembered that I’d forgotten to take my hormone pill before I left the house. I dreaded the shvitz that would surely come.
depending on who you asked, this campaign would lead off strong with busy hands in every sphere.
For American readers, let me tell you that Doug Ford is not new to the scene. He has had his fingers in politics and business for years, not unlike his predecessor, who was very ceremoniously dumped for social and possible financial wrong-doing just weeks ago.
pale-faced. And he’s a dude. Who in their right mind outside of the faithful would vote for him? And wouldn’t the faithful look exactly like him?
I’m on the floor now, my heels telling me that it is time. From this vantage, I can only see shoes—Dockers, Skechers, Vans, Steve Madden, Nine West—and some stroller wheels. What I don’t see are a rush of youthful feet, what we used to call (and what is probably still called) the Wedge, young Progressive Conservative Youth rushing the stage enthusiastically with lollipop signs. About the youngest I see here are late twenties but mostly early thirties, the new twenty. They cheer, they clap, but they are also composed and earnest.
they only appear on-line or do they reserve their right to free speech for those in power? I guess I’ll find out when I visit the Preem, who’s currently busy answering questions about the Throne Speech.
A. B. Funkhauser, Author 