This week, Ian McShane becomes Drew Barrymore’s character from Scream. Arya learns to develop a healthy fear of old people. The High Sparrow gets pervy. Everyone’s favorite “canine” character returns to make up for all those dead direwolves. And I choose a new favorite candidate for the Iron Throne. (Hint: She’s pictured above.)
Let’s get on with it, shall we?
[As always, special thanks to my good pal Andre for providing screencaps that are the photographic equivalent of Dany Targaryen’s inflammable boobies, and Arya’s magical ab muscles. In other words, they are awesomeness incarnate.]
You Ain’t Nothing But a Hound Dog, Dying All the Time . . .
You could be excused from attempting to adjust your television set, or thinking you stumbled on the wrong channel, when the same show that never met an adorable direwolf or plucky young child it didn’t want to torture, rape, and murder, featured a cold-open (it never does that), filled with happy smiling people, working to the tune of cheery music (it definitely never does that).
Crap! Did someone forget to tell me that GOT was being preempted this week for that live action version of Snow White starring Kristen Stewart and Thor?
Ian McShane is there. And he’s kind of a big deal, British actor wise. So, his character definitely won’t be dead in forty minutes . . .
Ooh, and there’s another familiar face! It’s The Hound! Remember him? He’s the guy who Brienne of Tarth “stabbed a whole bunch” and Arya left to bleed out on a slab.
Ian McShane tells the Hound that he used to play a lot of gangsters, pirates and evil Santa Clauses, until he learned to make love not war and stuff like that . . .
Ian McShane suggests that Hound let go of his anger and do the same thing. But the Hound is just super into chopping wood and hating people to death. So he’s just going to keep right on doing that, thank you very much!
When the Brotherhood Without Banners stops by and no so subtly threatens Ian McShane and his people, Ian doesn’t take it too seriously, until this happens . . .
There is nothing like having your entire community brutally murdered, and getting hung from rafters that you built with your own hands, to make you question your new nonviolent life philosophies . . .
As for our friend the Hound, would you believe he was so busy chopping wood that he missed the presumably loud and brutal massacre of a village happening just two feet away? (That must be some really good wood.)
Logic and existence of ears aside, The Hound is back on the road again. And he’s brought his trusty axe with him. But something tells me that he’ll be chopping up wood of an entirely different sort, this time around . . .
Be afraid Brotherhood without Banners. Be very afraid!
And You Thought Having The Sex Talk with Your Parents Was Bad . . .
Back in Kings Landing, High Sparrow is wondering why Margaery isn’t boning her prepubescent hubby Tommen anymore. “Don’t you find little boys sexy, anymore?” High Sparrow wonders out loud.
“You are absolutely right, High Sparrow,” responds Margaery obediently. “I will most certainly start working harder to make babies with Tommen, as soon as his mother finishes breast feeding him . . . which should happen in another five to seven years.”
Placated by Margaery’s agreement to play Pin the Tail on the Pussy with Tommen more frequently, High Sparrow changes the subject to equally pressing issues, like the fact that Margaery’s grandmother, Lady Olenna, hasn’t drank the cult Kool Aid yet. And if she doesn’t do it soon, she might just be forced to do the Naked Poopy Walk of Shame. And NO ONE wants to see an eighty something year old woman naked!
What follows is a cool scene where Margaery meets with her grandmother under the watchful eyes of the “Shame, Shame Nun,” and though the new queen’s mouth is saying, “lots of super religious culty bull crap,” her eyes are saying, “Leave Kings Landing and save yourself, while you still have your dignity, and your clothing!”
Then, just in case Lady Olenna (and the viewers) are still wondering where Margaery’s loyalties truly lie, the Queen spells it out for us in adorable cartoon drawing . . .
Just kidding! Here’s the real picture . . .
Get it? It’s a rose! The emblem for the Tyrell house! Queen Margaery is not a scientologist after all! Hooray! She’s still probably going to have sex with Baby Tommen though . . .
Both secure in the knowledge that her granddaughter hasn’t actually lost her damn mind (She just plays someone who lost her damn mind in front of the Shame, Shame Nun!), and really, really, not wanting to have to get naked in front of millions of Game of Thrones fans, Lady Olenna decides to take Margaery’s advice and leave Kings Landing. Oddly enough, it’s Cersei, of all people, who entreats her to stay and fight the High Sparrow with her. But Olenna isn’t really buying her erstwhile nemesis’ sudden change of heart though . . .
Aww, come on now, Lady Olenna. Is Cersei really the worst person you ever met? If so, clearly, you haven’t met this guy . . .
In Which Yara Greyjoy Gets Laid More Than You . . .
So, Yara Greyjoy is a lesbian. Who knew? Apparently, the brothel girl whose “tits she wanted to f*&k off” had some idea. (Though, I’m not entirely sure one woman can actually f*&k the tits off another woman, anatomically speaking. But that’s neither here nor there.)
Meanwhile, Yara’s brother, Theon, is kind of depressed. And it’s all Yara’s fault. Because taking a guy with no penis to a brothel, is like taking a person on a diet to Kentucky Fried Chicken. It’s just mean and wrong.
Nonetheless, Theon’s mopey-ness is harshing Yara’s buzz. And without a buzz, Yara can’t f*&k the tits off someone . . . though, as I’ve mentioned, she might not be able to do that anyway. So, like the good sister that Yara is, she forces her brother to drink massive quantities of liquor, while telling him to either man up, or kill himself. It’s pretty inspiring stuff!
Hey Zoloft, I just found the new spokespeople for your next antidepressant commercial!
One Fish, Two Fish, Blackfish, Blue Fish
Not sure why everyone cares so much about getting control of Riverrun, which size wise, looks to be about the equivalent of four ranch style homes sitting next to one another in a modern-day suburban development. Nonetheless, the Frey army seems super serious about it, because they are willing to kill this guy, Ed Tully, to get it. And Blackfish, who is related to Ed Tully, is willing to let the poor guy die to keep it.
Fortunately, Jamie and Bronn ride to Ed Tully’s rescue, because . . . wait for it . . . THEY WANT itty bitty Riverrun too!
Aww! I missed the charming buddy cop comedy that was the Jamie and Bronn show! How could Blackfish possibly say no to these two handsome studs?
Apparently, pretty easily. Sorry Jamie! For what it’s worth, I think your cool blue armor really brings out the color in your eyes . . .
Little Bear Don’t Care
Meanwhile, over in the North, Sansa and Jon are attempting to build their army with mixed success. Sure, things start off OK, when they procure everybody’s favorite giant, Wun-Wun, for their cause . . .
. . . along with everybody’s favorite ginger, Tormund . . .
But my new favorite Queen Lyanna of Mormont is a bit tougher to sway. Though her house has always been loyal to the Stark family . . . one might argue that Jon (who is a Snow) and Sansa (who is arguably a Lannister or Bolton, by marriage, depending on which season of GOT you are Warg DVR-ing with Bran) are not actually Starks. When neither Sansa’s attempts to flatter, nor Jon’s attempts to impress the ten-year old sassy Queen succeed, Ser Davos chimes in with some serious truth talking. “Giiiiirllll,” he begins conspiratorially. “The Nights King is coming. So you can either fight with us, and be part of the Game of Thrones, with at least recurring character status. Or you can not join us, and become the little girl zombie that got her face blown off in the first few minutes of the pilot of The Walking Dead.”
As with most children and sassy queens, honesty turns out to be the best policy. Queen Lyanna ultimately ends up offering up all her men to the Stark cause . . . all 62 of them.
Ferocious, sassy, adorable, and Wun-Wun though they might be, Sansa is not particularly impressed with Jon Snow’s current army collection. And it’s because of this that the eldest Stark daughter feels forced to reach out to a former friend for help. . .
And though its tough to tell from the blurry snip-it we got to see on screen, I’m willing to bet that Sansa’s “friend’s” name rhymes with Diddle Dinger . . .
Arya Stark: No Face, Excellent Abs
With her former coworker from Burgerless White Castle out for her blood, Arya knows she needs to leave Braavos and fast. She quickly manages to secure passage on a ship to parts unknown, which leaves at dawn. Unfortunately, that turns out to be a few hours too late, because mere minutes after the transaction is completed, this happens . . .
Aren’t really, really ridiculously old people, the scariest? In fact, if there was a horror movie entitled, Oldies, I probably wouldn’t see it, because it would give me too many nightmares. In fairness, the woman stabbing Arya to death in this scene isn’t really an Oldie, it’s just the evil ginger pretending to be one for murdery purposes.
After being stabbed about 85,000 times (enough times to at least temporarily murder Jon Stark) Arya falls into the water, and is presumed dead by Evil Ginger Chick, who has clearly never watched a horror movie in her life . . . otherwise she’d know that the dead always come back for one final Jump Scare in the last five minutes of the film.
But Evil Ginger Chick’s being a moron with poor knowledge of horror film cliches isn’t the only thing Arya Stark has going for her. Apparently, she also has magical abdominal muscles that are immune to massive internal bleeding from multiple stab wounds! Isn’t that awesome? That’s almost as cool as having boobies that are immune to fire like Dany Targaryen!
I’m still waiting to meet a character with a magical penis . . .
Arya’s perfectly fine, y’all! She’ll just need a little stain stick for all the blood on her dress. Maybe she can buy some at the gift shop that’s on the boat . . .
Until next time, Westeros!
(Buy my book, please!)