This week’s episode of Game of Thrones featured many of the good citizens of Westeros attempting to obtain pardons for their sins (and the sins of others) with highly variable rates of success. Some of these apologies were verbal in nature, like Olenna’s and Tommen’s “I’m sorry Margaery and Loras offended your creepy hypocrite cult” speeches.
Other apologies were more action-oriented, like Jamie’s “I’m sorry you’re an incest baby, whose ass I dumped in Dorne, and completely forgot about for a decade,” trip to rescue Myrcella, the Sand Snakes’ “sorry TV viewers for that craptastic fight scene last week,” boobie shot, Jorah’s “sorry I betrayed your trust, Dany” ass kicking of many, and Gilly’s “sorry you got the sh*t kicked out of you” screw of Sam Tarley.
Still others were not so much apologies at all, like Ramsey’s “sorry, not sorry I raped you on your wedding night,” artistic display for Sansa, Cersei’s “sorry, not sorry, I ruined your and your brother’s life” gift of Bambi’s mom leftovers to Margaery, and Littlefinger’s “sorry, not sorry I revealed your gross incest sexcapades to all your enemies” middle finger to Cersei.
Let’s repent, shall we? Er, I mean, review . . .
In which Sam Tarley loses all his friends (and his virginity!)
On the Wall, Samwell Tarley is having a no good/ very bad day. First, Jon Snow, Sam’s only male friend under the age of 100, abandons Sam to head off on his much maligned by all on the water “Friends with Wildlings World Peace Tour,” taking Sam’s only remaining piece of creepy baby zombie-killing dragon glass as a parting gift.
Then, Sam’s other male friend, Maester Aemon Targaryen, croaks from being really, really ridiculously old. “He was the fire of the dragon, and now his fire has gone out. And now his watch has ended,” Sam eulogizes, as him and the Watchmen take turns burning Maester Aemon’s body to crispy bacon, so he doesn’t turn into a creepy baby zombie. (Though, to be fair, it’s kind of hard to picture Maester Aemon being a “baby” anything at this point.)
“You are losing all of your friends,” Allisar Thorne says helpfully to Sam, making me wonder if, in a past life, the grumpy ginger watchman was a motivational speaker, or Captain Obvious from those Hotels.com commercials.
Then, two of Sam’s fellow watchmen try to sexually assault Gilly, because after last week, another controversial sexual assault is precisely what this show needs.
Sam gallantly (if not particularly effectively) tries to fight them off, and winds up getting the stuffing beat out of him for his trouble. But then, at the very last minute, Ghost pops by to intimidate the douchebags and save the day . . . thus proving that, while Jon Snow may know nothing, his pet direwolf knows friggin everything!
Gilly is so grateful to Sam for all he’s done for her, that she names her baby after him! Then, she gets on top of his more or less immobile body, and slowly rides him away from his pesky virginity, while the pleasantly plump young watchman repeatedly utters, “Oh my,” like he’s auditioning to play Robin William’s character in the remake of Mrs. Doubtfire.
Sexy, it’s most certainly not, but sweet it most definitely is. And why shouldn’t Gilly and Sam get a little R-rated happiness? After all they are two of the few people who aren’t total assholes left alive in Westeros, which makes them nearly as rare Dany’s dragons, but perhaps not quite as rare as Tyrion’s huge magical dong . . .
The benefits of being a bastard . . . and a psychotic douchebag
Over in Kings Landing, Sansa, locked in her room like a prisoner, her body covered in bruises, begs Theon / Reek to find his balls wherever Ramsey left them, reattach them to his body, and help her get out of this mess, by lighting a candle in the tower that will alert Brienne that she’s in need of rescue.
The next morning, Creepy Ramsey decides to let Sansa out of her cell for a little walk in the snow. While out and about, they casually discuss the laws of primogeniture.
“If I defeat Stannis’ army, I will be Warden of the North,” explains Ramsey.
“Unless your dad has a legitimate baby boy first. Then, that baby will be Warden of the North,” corrects Sansa. “And you will be The Guy Who Changes the Warden of the North’s Doody Diapers.”
“I’m no longer a bastard, because my claim to the Bolton name was legitimized by King Tommen Baratheon the Prepubescent Pussy Cat Lover who is a product of incest,” Ramsey argues.
“If a bastard is legitimized by another bastard, the legitimacy erases itself, and he’s still a bastard,” offers Sansa smugly.
“But bastards can still be cool! Your half-brother Jon Snow is a bastard and he’s the Master and Commander of the Night’s Watch, who has hot sex with ginger wildlings, and has a massively large direwolf do his bidding for him, while he’s on vacation,” retorts Ramsey.
“I’m going to pocket this important piece of information, and eventually use it to get out of this hellhole of a marriage, and hopefully have you brutally murdered,” says Sansa.
“Wait . . . what?” Asks Ramsey.
“Oh nothing,” replies Sansa, with a wink at the camera, as she stealthily pockets a sharp pointy object she will hopefully later use to separate Ramsey from his shriveled rotten excuse for manhood.
“Hey, remember your adorable sweet washer lady friend, who wanted to help you escape? Check it out, I had her flayed, after Theon / Reek sold you out for trying to escape the nightmare that is your life right now.
If Sansa Stark had a cell phone right now, she would be texting Brienne, rows upon rows of the frowny tear-faced emoticons. Also the emoticon that looks like a triangular mound of poo with eyes, because that’s pretty much what Theon/Reek smells and acts like these days . . .
Will sing for boobies and poison antidotes
Over in Dorne, Bronn is in jail serenading his next door cell mates, the Sand Snakes, and it sounds a bit like this. . .
(Only without the dancing, unfortunately.)
Youngest Sand Snake Tyene is so impressed with the serenade that she inexplicably shows her boobies to Bronn, once again proving that the Dorne portion of this show is pretty much a remake of Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers movie. All that’s missing is a gold-toothed James Franco, and a Skillrex soundtrack.
While Bronn is busy mind-tripping on boobies, Tyene lets slip the fact that her knife blade has poisoned him, and he’s about to croak.
“But if I will die, who will save the weakest storyline of the season from deteriorating into a boring montage of poorly choreographed fight scenes that look like line dance’s you do at your cousin’s wedding, with endless snark, sexual innuendo, and the occasional musical interlude,” argues a suddenly moments from death Bronn.
“You are absolutely right,” agrees Tyene. “Here, have a vial of poison antidote I carry around in my bra for plot convenient moments like this.”
And that, my friends is how Bronn lived to sing (and hopefully dance) another day . . .
The Things We Do for Love
Experiencing less gratuitous lady mounds, but more familial angst is Jamie Lannister, who is having a bit of trouble getting Myrcella to return to smells like sh*t Kings Landing with him.
“I’m not going back to Kings Landing with you. And you can’t make me. You are not my father,” argues Myrcella.
*Jamie whistles uncomfortably.*
“Dorne rules. Kings Landing drools. Spring Break forever,” insists Myrcella, as she fist pumps for the camera.
The Things We Do for Power
When Melissandre is not busy killing prospective kings with the shadow baby between her legs, and seducing the entire cast of Game of Thrones, she often occupies herself with her third favorite pastime of Being the Absolute Worst.
Case in point, Melissandre tells Stannis that if he wants to win the Iron Throne he has murder his own young daughter Shireen. Why?
“Because the Fire told me so,” explains Melissandre matter-of-factly . . . which, if you think about it, is pretty much the Westeros equivalent of “I read hidden messages about it in J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye,” and “Jodie Foster made me do it.”
Stannis tells the Red Lady to take her kid murdering plans and shove them up her ass along with her evil shadow baby. Let’s hope he stays on message, because Shireen is an awesome little kid (way more awesome than snoozy Bran and wussy Tommen, that’s for sure). Also, because Melissandre sucks.
Tyrion Lannister – The Gift That Keeps on Giving
On the slaver’s auction block, Jorah fibs that her murdered Khal Drogo to win a spot in Dany’s newly reopened Mereneese fighting pits. Not wanting to be separated from his new bestie, Jorah, Tyrion gets himself auctioned as well, by amusing everyone with his wise cracks, and also by beating the crap out of the guy who chained him up in the first place.
Magical Cock – FOR THE WIN!
Meanwhile, Dany is celebrating her engagement to boring poopy pants Hizdahr by boning the super sexy Daario, naturally. After all, Dany is a modern woman, and monogamy is so 100 B.C.!
At the fighting pits, Dany is visibly horrified when one dude starts brutally murdering everyone in the pit. Then Jorah rushes onto the field, and quickly knocks that guy, and everyone else, unconscious, seemingly by just running past them really fast, Tazmanian Devil style. When Jorah reveals himself as Dany’s champion, she is SUPER PISSED.
“Get that traitor out of my sight,” exclaims Dany, who is no stranger to holding a grudge.
Jorah is visibly crushed. Fortunately, Tyrion rushes out to his rescue. “Would the ownership of a magical dwarf cock, change your feelings about this studly old man?” Tyrion inquires.
“Have we met before?” Dany asks, noting to her chagrin that she’s been much too busy having sex with Daario to get caught up on Seasons 1 through 4 of Game of Thrones.
“My name is Tyrion Lannister,” explains the wily imp. “And I am extremely important to the plot of this story. Also my massively large weiner grants people wishes . . . and can make balloon animals on request.”
Magical Cock = THE MVP OF THIS EPISODE . . . well, almost . . .
Littlefinger – The STD That Keeps on Spreading
Unlike Samwell Tarley, Cersei Lannister starts off the episode having the best day ever. After an invigorating morning of mutilating adorable puppies and devil worshipping, she visits her son Tommen, and tells him, “not to worry, I’ll totally make sure your girlfriend doesn’t get murdered by the religious nutsos I put in power.” Then, she proceeds to smugly offer an imprisoned, smelly and ratty-haired, Margery, her rotten Bambi’s mother leftovers (which she probably killed herself) in prison.
Elsewhere, Queen of Thorns Olenna is making little headway on her quest to free her grandkids from the High Sparrow’s clutches. “I’m not going to help you, because you are a 1 percenter,” explains that Old Dirty Poop Smelling New Pope, High Sparrow. “The Tyrells are pretty much the Romney’s of Westeros, only less Mormon.”
But then Olenna’s luck changes, when she gets a valuable piece of information from Mister Finger in Every Plot in the Series himself, Littlefinger. “In case you forgot, I used to own a brothel, which means I know who everyone in this town used to pork,” explains Littlefinger.
In an absolutely fabulous scene we’ve been waiting to see since Season 1, High Sparrow totally calls Cersei out on having sex with her cousin, the now thoroughly cult-brain washed, Lancel Lannister, who, of course confessed everything. In the final scenes of the episode, Cersei gets tossed into a cell, right alongside Margaery, and those stinky leftovers she dropped off for her mere moments earlier.
Karma . . . Glorious Karma, that’s the real MVP of this episode. (But Tyrion’s Magical Cock is a close second.)
Until next time . . .