Battle Scars – A Recap of Game of Thrones’ “Kill the Boy”

*wishes he invested in a better pair of gloves*

War wounds . . . we all have them. Even the luckiest among us, won’t make it to adulthood without earning a few. Some are visible, like childhood skinned knees that inevitably lead to lifelong scars, black eyes, bruised cheeks, that scaly makeup they’ve been putting on Shireen’s face, and, more recently, Jorah’s arm, not to mention whatever the f*&k happened to that poor dude in Mereen burned in half by Dany’s dragons this week . . .

Other wounds are less visible, but no less painful. They fester beneath the surface, subtly coloring our every word and gesture, preventing us from trusting and loving too easily, shielding us from a life lived to its fullest, out of fear that we might be hurt again . . .These are the kind of wounds that turn the once brazen and cocky Theon Greyjoy into the pitiful, stinky, silent and sexless Reek . . . and innocent sheltered Sansa Stark into Darth Sansa, the kind of girl who would willingly stick her tongue down middle aged creepy Littlefinger’s throat and like it.

This week on Game of Thrones, Dany feeds her dragon kids a gourmet lunch. Greyworm lives to be ball-less another day. Jon Snow grows a pair. Sansa comes to terms with just how badly her life sucks. Tyrion grudgingly acknowledges the perks of being held hostage.

And everyone gets covered in battle scars, some more visible than others . . .

Let’s review, shall we?

In which Dany’s Dragons Learn to Share, and Wish Their Mom a Happy Mother’s Day . . .

While a concerned, but relieved, Missandei hovers precariously over a wounded, but still living, Greyworm’s bedside, Dany and Daario stonily mourn Ser Barristan’s corpse, which, thankfully, doesn’t have those creepy googly eyes on top of it, like they put on all the dead bodies in Kings Landing. So tacky! But Dany doesn’t seem so much sad, as she does SUPER PISSED OFF!

“I will cut a bitch.”

“I feel like scaring the sh*t out of some rich people,” says Dany. “Round up all the heads of Mereen’s wealthiest familes, so I can dangle them in front of my dragon kid’s faces, and make them soil their golden tighty whities.”

“But I’m filthy rich, and have golden tighty whities,” whines Hizdahr, a.k.a the guy whose talked about nothing but reopening the fighting pits ad nauseum, since episode 1. BOO-RING!

“Then, I hope you didn’t eat a big lunch,” remarks Dany, blithely, as her guards seize his smug ass.

Shortly, thereafter, Dany’s collection of rich assholes is assembled around her in the dragon pits.

“A good mother never gives up on her children,” speechifies Dany, as the quivering, quaking mass of rich folk hover precariously near Dany’s patiently waiting sort-of progeny, wondering which one of them is about to become dragon kibble.

SPOILER ALERT: It’s the fat bald guy!

Extra cookies for all who called it.

Daario pushes the poor unfortunate soul into the pit, where Dany’s dragons promptly steam fry him, and expertly carve his body in half, so they each can get a meal. If you ignore the whole gross burning body thing, it’s actually kind of adorable.

“All men must die,” remarks Hizdahr, feigning bravery, despite the fact that he is now wearing poopy pants.

“Yeah, but not today,” offers Dany blithely. “My dragons have already had a large fat bald man for a meal. And I don’t want them to get chunky. Because nothing is worse than having chunky dragon kids. Maybe tomorrow.”

Message sent and received, Dany. Mess with the Queen, and end up the expertly carved-up Lean Cuisine for two svelte dragons . . .

In which we hear the episode title . . .

Back at the wall, Samwell is reading to Maester Aemon news of his relative Dany. It’s boring news that fails to mention her making rich men sh*t themselves by feeding a fat baldie to her dragon kids. Talk about burying the lead! Apparently, there is no TMZ in Westeros . . .

Jon pops by to get advice from the Maester on a decision he’s about to make, that’s going to make him super unpopular with the rest of the Knights Watch, who used to like him a lot, because he’s really ridiculously good looking.

“I also have spectacular hair.”

“Kill the boy, and let the man be born,” explains Maester, winking at the camera, in the way people do, when they’ve just given out a slogan they know will become popular, like “Trix are for kids,” “Campbell Soup is Mmm Mmm Good,” and “WHERE ARE MY DRAGONS?!”

Emboldened by having just murdered his inner Toys R’ Us Kid, Jon approaches Ginger Tormund about forming an alliance between the Watchers on the Wall and the Wildlings to fight against those creepy white walkers that zombify babies for sh*ts and giggles. “We can offer your Wildling Folk shelter for your women and children, a fleet for your travels, and the right not to end up a creepy baby zombie, if you fight by our side.”

“I’ll get my people to join forces with you,” relents Tormund, “But only if you travel with me to visit them, because you are so damn sexy.”

“Curse my good looks,” mutters Jon Snow, but he ultimately agrees.

At the Wall Watchers meeting, everyone thinks Jon’s idea of allying with those smelly wildlings sucks, except, of course, for Samwell, because Samwell likes everything Jon says and does. As everyone yells at Jon Snow, Stannis mutteringly corrects all the Wall Watchers’ bad grammar, proving himself to be the nerdiest contender for the Iron Throne ever!

Jon Snow has a harder time justifying his decision to his apprentice, young Olly, whose entire family has been butchered by Wildlings. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” says Olly, more or less. “Also, you suck and I hate you now.”

It’s always lonely at the top, isn’t it Jon Snow? Especially, when you’ve murdered your inner child, just because some old guy told you to do so . . .

And Jon Snow’s lonely days are about to get even lonelier, especially now that his surprise bromantic buddy Stannis Baratheon finally ships off with his men toward Winterfell . . .

With Friends Like These . . .

Speaking of Winterfell, Darth Sansa’s friendly wash basin lady reminds her that she still has friends in the North, and that if she lights a candle at the top of the highest tower, they will come and kick some Evil Bolton ass on her behalf.

Sorry ladies, he’s taken!

Speaking of Evil Bolton ass, Ramsey is naked and porking the kennelmaster’s daughter, Myranda, who is clearly psychotic JUST LIKE HIM! She whines that Ramsey will be marrying Darth Sansa and not her. When Ramsey accuses her of being jealous and boring, she attempts to prove that she isn’t either by biting a large chunk out of Ramsey’s lip. So sweet! Clearly, these two are a match made in smelly flayed body heaven.

Further wishing to metaphorically pee on Ramsey’s leg, so Darth Sansa knows that hot psycho piece of man meat is taken, whether or not she becomes his wife, Myranda finds Sansa on the grounds and passive aggressively Regina George’s her by complimenting her dress in a way that is clearly not sincere. Then, Myranda takes Sansa into her crazy Cujo dog kennel, it is there that Darth Sansa reunites with the artist formerly known as Theon Greyjoy, aka the guy she thinks killed her brothers Rickon and Bran.

Darth Sansa is understandably shocked by Theon (now Reek’s) disheveled appearance, obvious brain damage, nauseating scent, and the fact that he literally lies down with dogs. The look on her face when she sees him is one of pity and disgust, mixed in with anger.

“This is so not cute.”

Needless to say, Darth Sansa is having a really shitty day. And it’s about to get much worse. Because, she’s about to have dinner with her new family . . .

Meet the Boltons

You know it’s a bad dinner party when the happiest person at the table is the dead pig you are about to eat.

“It must be strange for you, being here,” Walda Frey, Roose Bolton’s wife offers conversationally to Darth Sansa as the new family sit down for dinner.

“It’s not strange, this is my home,” corrects Darth Sansa. “It’s the people that are strange.”

Bam! Touche! Sansa.

Ramsey, the guy who flays men and cuts off balls for a hobby, and considers getting his lip chewed off by a woman foreplay, really doesn’t like being called strange, so he brings Theon/Reek to stink up the table and traumatize poor Sansa. (Whoever thought Sansa would come to miss the days of being married to that Little Sh*t Joffrey.) Ramsey forces “Reek” to apologize to Sansa for “killing her brothers,” then invites the guy to give her away at the wedding as her “closest living relative.”

Because nothing says familial bonding like the fake flaying of your baby brothers.

Even for the detestable Roose Bolton, Ramsey’s treatment of Sansa seems a bit grotesque. So, the father lashes back out, announcing proudly that Walda is pregnant with his legitimate son. Ouch! First Ramsey got his lip chewed off, now there goes his balls. It’s a painful day for everyone involved.

Later, Roose waxes poetically to Ramsey about the fond memories he has of raping Ramsey’s peasant mother, after killing her husband. “When this woman came to my door with a baby, I was going to throw you in the river, because, let’s be honest, most babies are complete garbage, but I took one look at your Crazy Eyes and knew you were my son.”

Eat your heart out, Stannis and Shireen Baratheon! Two can play at the Father’s Day Hallmark card game.

Roose follows up this romantic and inspirational story with a confession to his son. He knows that Stannis is marching toward the Iron Throne and wishes to take the North on his way. “Help me keep the North, by brutally murdering as many people as possible, and hanging their flayed bodies around our house for decoration, and I promise to love you more than the new garbage baby,” Roose offers gallantly.

If I were Darth Sansa, I’d be lighting those “Help Me” candles at the watchtower right about now . . .

A Match Made in Poopy Pants

Having literally scared the rich people of Mereen shitless by feeding one of them to her kids, Dany begins to take steps to solidify her rule in a more reasoned way. She visits a truly petrified Hizdahr in the dungeons to inform him of the good news. It turns out, she’s decided to reopen the fighting pits after all, but only to “free men.” (Considering everybody in Mereen is technically free now, it isn’t really much of a compromise, but details . . .)

“Does this make me Father of Dragons? Is that even biologically possible?”

Also, she’s going to marry Hizdahr. Because nothing says romantic proposal like visiting someone in prison and saying “Marry me, or I’ll have your body torn apart limb from limb by a pair of dragons on a strict calorie restricted diet.”

Jorah Gets a Bitchin Tattoo

“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily, merrily merrily, life is but a disfiguring disease.”

Riding toward the lost city of Valyria, which admittedly pretty gorgeous, with its dazzling ruins, green grasses, and crystal clear waters, Jorah and Tyrion experience their first ever bonding moment post-kidnapping, despite the fact that Tyrion is woefully sober during it. They even recite a poem about Valyria together. Between this, Stannis’ grammatical corrections at the Wall meeting, and Samwell Tarley getting all hot and bothered over books earlier in the episode, this may very well be the nerdiest episode of GOT ever!

We interrupt this dramatic poetry reading and scenic tour of someplace pretty in New Zealand to bring you, DROGON THE DRAGON!

ALSO A GREYSCALE-AFFLICTED STONE MAN ZOMBIE!

Ladies and gentlemen, things have just taken a turn for the weird.

Jorah battles the Crazed Stone man, trying hard not to touch him, because, apparently, Greyscale gets transmitted like cooties. Meanwhile, Tyrion jumps off the side of the boat, his hands still tied together. Ultimately Jorah defeats Old Stoney and rescues Tyrion from drowning, YAY!

But he somehow manages to get Greyscale Cooties in the process. Boo!

“I was going to get an ‘I heart Dany’ tattoo, but I guess this works too.”

Poor Jorah! All the guy wants to do is win a date with the Mother of Dragons, and he gets a deadly, disfiguring, mind ravaging disease for his troubles. He should have stuck with Westeros Match.com . . .

And that was “Kill the Boy” in a nutshell. Until next time, my friends!

Population Control – A Recap of Game of Thrones’ “Sons of the Harpy”

The Game of Thrones is a bloody one. There are no elections in Westeros. So, if you want to hold office, there’s a good chance you are going to be holding it over someone’s dead body . . . multiple someones, more likely than not.

For those of you who complained, “This season of GOT is not nearly bloody enough. I mean, sure, we had the obligatory Big Death at the end of each episode, Burning Mance in episode 1, headless Dany follower in episode 2, headless Janus at the end of episode 3 . . . that old guy at White Castle the House of Black and White. But I want some serious carnage. The sound of swords searing through flesh . . . rotting, fetid corpses in other places apart from the Bolton’s house, where they are merely decoration . . . a mountain of dead red shirts and extras, whose names we will never learn,” this, my friends, was the episode for you.

Let’s begin the body count, shall we?

She’s Just Not That Into You

Poor Jorah. He truly believes that kidnapping Tyrion Lannister and hijacking a ship to Mereen is going to get him out of the dog house and into the pants of the Mother of Dragons. Clearly, he hasn’t been watching Game of Thrones this season, and, therefore has no clue about This Guy   . . .

Hate to break it to you, Jorah, but a dumpy boat, and a humorous dwarf have nothing on washboard abs and a smug hipster in his sexual prime . . .

Speaking of boats   . . .

It Has To Be Me . . .

If Bronn is to be believed, the Dornish people currently holding Cersei’s only female incestuous love child with Jamie, are a bunch of nymphomaniacs with anger management issues and spectacular tans.

“No offense, but sailing to Dorne on a merchant ship and rescuing your “niece” doesn’t really seem like a suitable job for a one armed pretty boy like yourself,” Bronn muses. “Why don’t you, I don’t know, pay for an army with your ridiculous wealth and power or something.”

“I’ve conceived three abominations with Cersei, and only one turned out to be a total sociopath / possible spawn of Satan,” Jamie explains. “I am grateful to the gods for this stroke of luck, which I may deserve a little bit, because I’m occasionally nice to Brienne and Tyrion. The least I can do is rescue my illegitimate, incestuous, but fortunately not three-headed, child from a life of beach blanket whoredom in Dorne, a.k.a. the Cancun of Westeros.”

“Spring BREEEEEAAAAK,” exclaims Bronn triumphantly, in a voice that sounds suspiciously like James Franco in that Harmony Korine movie with all the naked Disney stars . . .

Religious Cults are the Worst

After sending any potential dissenters in young King Tommen’s council on paid vacation, Cersei visits the kindly old poo-smelling man she made pope in last week’s episode, and gives him an army to beat the sh*t out of everybody basically.   The new High Sparrow’s “Faith Militant,” i.e. crazy cultists with creepy head tattoos like Charles Manson, led by Cersei’s cousin and former bedmate, dumb-but-hot Lancel,promptly proceed to break into Littlefinger’s brothel, assault and murder a few sex starved old guys and prostitutes, and later imprison, Sir Loras a.k.a the Knight of Flowers, a.k.a Renly’s former adoring boy toy, a.k.a. Queen Margaery’s scamp brother, for being a homosexual.

Lovely Pedophile Margaery promptly appeals to her prepubescent husband to ameliorate her brother’s dire situation. “Tell your bitch of a mother to let my brother out of sex prison,” she demands. “Or you won’t get laid again until you are old enough to get a driver’s license in America.”

“But that’s seven years away,” whines Baby King Tommen. “17 is so old! Almost legal!”

“Well, you better get to work then, Little Blue Balls,” demands Margaery.”

“Mother,” Tommen later demands. “I insist that you release Gay Loras from prison, so that I can continue to be regularly statutorily raped by my wife, Lovely Pedophile Margaery.”

“No can do,” relents Cersei. “But maybe our new Smells Like Poo Pope can save your disturbing sex life for you. Why don’t you ask him yourself? You are king, after all, even if you still suck your thumb and occasionally wet the bed.”

Tommen obediently attempts to visit new Smells Like Poo Pope, but is blocked by his creepy cultists, who insist he is praying and cannot be disturbed.   “You could kill his minions and take Smells Like Poo Pope by force,” offers one of Tommen’s guards. “It’s WTLSDJWD”,

“Huh?” Tommen asks incredulously.

“It’s What that Little Shit Dead Joffrey Would Do,” the guard answers matter-of-factly.

King Tommen considers this briefly, but quickly finds himself distracted by all the townspeople calling him an incest baby, and has to leave quickly. “I’d totally murder you, but I’m long overdue for a breastfeeding by mommy, TTYL,” offers Tommen politely, as he excuses himself.

“Sex denied,” Margaery proclaims later that night, when Tommen gives her the bad news about Loras’ indefinite incarceration. “You can use your hand tonight.”

Tommen sighs sadly, then quickly extends his arm to pet and fondle all the furry pussies in his life that don’ t belong to his inappropriately-aged wife. It’s still a lot of pussy, just saying . . .

In Which Everybody Loves Jon Snow (Except, perhaps, for the guy he decapitated last week)

Back on the wall, Jon Snow is teaching his men, how to fight, and Stannis is watching him adoringly from above. (Methinks someone has a Man Crush!)

Apparently, Stannis’ wife thinks so too, because she pops by to passive aggressively gripe and complain to Stannis about his thinly concealed warm fuzzies for Ned Stark’s bastard kiddie. “Gee Stannis, I’m so sorry I birthed you a girl with scar makeup on her face, instead of a strapping young hunk of man meat, like Jon, or an evil shadow baby that murdered your awesome brother like Melisandrei.”

Hey, did you guys ever notice that Stannis’ wife is kind of the worst? I mean, I’m not one to at all condone adultery, and certainly not with creepy Melisandrei, who may very well be Satan in disguise. But if anyone has the right to feel a wee bit dissatisfied with his marriage, it’s this guy.

Speaking of Evil Melisandrei, she magically appears to remind Stannis to take her into battle at Winterfell with him, because, one never knows when they might need a woman who produces black shadows from inside her lady parts to vanquish one’s enemies.

Later on in the day, Jon Snow learns that, while the best part of being a commander is being able to sit at the big kids table at meetings, and occasionally decapitate rude baldies, the worst part is most definitely the paper work. Fortunately, Samwell Tarley is a kickass executive assistant. He puts the papers in front of Jon, and all the latter has to do is sign them.

“What is all this crap?” Jon inquires, as his signing hand starts to cramp up.

“You see Jon, over the past few seasons, we’ve murdered a lot of red shirt wall watchers in various battles,” explains Sam. “And just last week, you cut off the head of a bald one. And most people can’t fight without a head. So, these letters beg all the folks from the neighboring towns to send us more extras, who we can then murder and decapitate as we wish! It’s like an open casting call!”

“I hate that you are making me send a letter to Roose Bolton. He murdered my entire family, and his kid is a psychotic. Clearly, any extras he sends me will be demons from hell,” Jon grouses.

“Does this mean you want me to remove the ‘Hugs and Kisses, Jon’ from the signature block on his letter?” Sam asks nervously.

Enter Melisandrei, who is so evil and creepy, she should come with her own soundtrack, so you know she’s coming, like perhaps, the theme song from the Halloween movies, or the one they play whenever the Wicked Witch appears in the Wizard of Oz . . .

Game of Boners

No scene in GOT has felt more like a porn parody of itself than the one in which Melisandrei attempts to seduce Jon Snow into riding to Winterfell with her and Stannis. “The Watchers on the Wall don’t take part in the Wars of the Seven Kingdoms,” insists Jon Snow.

“There’s only one war, the war of life and death,” Melisandrei explains. “Here I’ll show you.”

“What are you going to show me,” scoffs Jon, “a vision in the fire?”

“Not unless fire is what you crazy kids are calling the vajayjay these days,” Melisandrei notes, as she disrobes for Jon, and places his hand on her tit.

WHAT? WHY? WHAT THE HECK AM I WATCHING?

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like sex scenes as much as the next cable subscriber. But this one just seems out of place. Maybe I was wrong about Melisandrei being accompanied by the Halloween soundtrack, when she enters a room. Perhaps, a 70s porn track would be more appropriate.

“Do you feel my heart beating?” Melisandrei asks Jon, because apparently they are playing doctor now.

“Um, I would, maybe, but your massive breast is in the way,” Jon muses.

“That’s cool, because I don’t have a heart anyway. Let’s screw and make a legion of evil shadow babies together that will conquer the world,” Melisandrei entreats, as she straddles Jon, and starts grinding against his leg like it’s a hobby horse.

“I don’t think Stannis, a.k.a the guy whose already cheating on his awful wife with you, would like that,” Jon argues.

“He would if we let him watch,” responds Melisandrei.

(Actually, she didn’t say that. But something tells me that watching his mistress go at it with the adorable object of his man crush, Jon Snow, would not be the most awful experience Stannis could imagine. He also strikes me as a guy who really digs period piece porn, if you catch my drift.)

“I’m sorry. I can’t f*ck you today, because I’m in love with another ginger,” Jon insists. “Dead Ygritte.”

Melisandrei reluctantly relents, “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she says before exiting.

“Dammit! Why are women always saying that to me?” Jon grumbles, as he returns to his paperwork.

“Rats, foiled again,” whines Stannis, as he turns off HBO, in search of some real porn with actual payoff   . . .

In which Stannis and Shireen get their Hallmark moment . . .

Upstairs and completely unable to find good porn on Wall Watcher TV, Stannis finds a welcome distraction in his daughter’s presence . “The Wall is no place for a child,” he says apologetically, despite the fact that in the book, most of the Watchers on the Wall are actually prepubescent boys.

“It’s OK, I like it here. I’ve started my own business called ‘Shireen’s School for Westerosians Who Can’t Read Good.’ It’s been a great success. We’ll be publicly traded on NASDAQ next week,” Shireen answers. “Mom told me she didn’t want to take me.”

“Your mother is the worst,” Stannis replies, thus proving that Stannis and I agree on something.

“Are you ashamed of me?” Shireen asks boldly.

It’s something many fans have undoubtedly wondered about Stannis, who seemingly has kept his cute daughter with the scar makeup on her face locked in tower for most of the series’ run. His terrible wife is certainly ashamed of Shireen.

Stannis pauses a bit long before speaking. And, in that moment, fans undoubtedly share Shireen’s nervousness as to what he’s going to respond. He tells his daughter the story of how she got greyscale. As it turns out, she wasn’t born with it, as many, myself included, might have thought, rather she was infected with it by a poisoned doll that Stannis himself had purchased from a Dornish trader and put in her crib, when she was a baby.

According to Stannis, once Shireen became infected, everyone thought she would die, and begged Stannis to send his daughter to live with the Stone Men far away. But Stannis refused to abandon his daughter, and eventually found a Maester to cure her. “Because you didn’t belong with the Stone Men,” Stannis explains.

The look on Shireen’s face, upon hearing these words is resplendent. And when the father and daughter hug for the first time on camera, you’d have to have no heart in your big boob like evil Melisandrei not to get a wee bit choked up at the Hallmark card-iness of it all . . .

Wardeness of the North

On the much less Hallmark card end of the spectrum is Littlefinger’s continued dalliances and occasional open mouth kisses with the now fully reborn to the dark side, at least for now, Darth Sansa. Westeros’ second favorite pedophile (Marg is still winning) finds Sansa in the crypt lighting a candle for an aunt she never knew. There, Littlefinger breaks the news to Sansa that he’s leaving for Kings Landing. Thus, Sansa will be alone with gross Ramsey to live amongst all those fetid corpse chandeliers he loves so much.

“Worry not, Darth Sansa,” Littlefinger insists. “Stannis and his Creepy Wife with the army of evil shadow babies between her legs are coming to kill the Boltons. And once they do, they will name you Wardeness of the North, since you are the only surviving Stark child, apart from Bran and Rickon, who nobody cares about, and Arya, who is stuck in hamburgerless White Castle for the foreseeable future.”

“But what if Stannis and his Creepy Wife with the army of evil shadow babies between her legs lose the battle?” Sansa wonders.

“Then, you will become Mrs. Darth Sansa Stark nee Gross Rotting Fetid Corpse Bolton, and after about a year or so, you will stop noticing the smell of all the dead bodies your creepo husband will make you use as a comforter.”

Then, Littlefinger and Darth Sansa make out.

“I suppose, the next time you see me, I’ll be a married woman,” Sansa muses half-flirtatiously.

“Never stopped me before,” winks Littlefinger.

In Which Bronn Gets his Very Own Dornish Stallion . . .

While traveling in Dorne and munching on a yummy rattlesnake dinner, Jamie and Bronn come upon four men on horseback, who quickly suss them out as outsiders, and wish to murder them. “How many do you think you could take?” Bronn asks his new one-armed buddy.

“One, if he’s slow,” Jamie muses.

So, Bronn easily dispatches of three of the four men, steals the horse of one, and murders the horse of the fourth. “This one should be slow enough for you,” Bronn offers.

And he IS slow enough! Jamie kills him! Hooray! Kingslayer’s still got the swagger!

Then, Jamie makes Bronn bury all the dead bodies himself, because he’s a pimp . . . also because it’s really hard to dig with only one hand . . .

Sistahs Sand Snakes are doing it for themselves . . .

When we last saw Ellaria Sand, she was busy being disappointed that Doran Martell wasn’t cool with mutilating little Lannister girls to avenge Oberyn Martell’s death. Ellaria has a hunch that Oberyn’s illegitimate daughters , who appear to live under a sheet held up by three poles, will be less discriminatory about who they mutilate. “Do you choose peace or war?” Ellaria asks the three women.

In response, Obara, the oldest, throws a spear into the head of the guy who brought Jamie Lannister into town, just because she can. Clearly, this is not the kind of girl you sing Kumbaya with around a campfire, while eating s’mores.

Making the Best of a Bad Situation

While on a boat bound for Mereen, the captive Tyrion entertains his captor Jorah by singing with a gag in his mouth. When Jorah removes the gag, Tyrion admits that he was going to see Dany anyway, and that the two of them, captor and captive, share a mutual disdain for the awful Cersei.

Tyrion is smart enough to surmise that Jorah’s kidnapping of him is nothing more than a desperate attempt of the latter to get back into Dany’s good graces and possibly her bed, after she banished him for trading her secrets to Kings Landing (probably because he accidentally deleted all the Dany / Daario episodes of this show on his DVR, and doesn’t realize yet that he’s WAAAAY outmatched, and there isn’t a chance in hell he’s ever going to get to hit that).

Jorah responds to this revelation by punching Tyrion in the face, and knocking him unconscious.  Bad move, Jorah. Who is going to sing to you now?

Ser Barristan-Wan Kenobi and Grey Worm versus Those Creeps with the Weird Masks (a.k.a The Scene Where Everybody Gets Bludgeoned to Death)

Over in Mereen, Dany is having a warm conversation with loveable grandfather type Barristan about how her dad used to dress up like a minstrel and sing to the public because it was fun, also because he was a nutbar. She sends Barristan out for a walk amongst the people, while she attends her umpteenth council meeting about re-opening the fighting pits.

“Fighting pits unite the people, and give them something to live for. Reopening them will show you respect their traditions,” says Mereenite guy.  “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”

We interrupt this episode of CSPAN- Westeros Edition to bring you LOTS OF PEOPLE GETTING VIOLENTLY MURDERED!!!!

Apparently, the Sons of the Harpy, aka, the folks in the weird masks stolen from the orgy scene in the movie Eyes Wide Shut are super pissed at Dany about the whole “no more slaves” thing, so pissed in fact that they want to KILL EVERYONE (which sort of doesn’t make sense, seeing as, if everyone is dead, no one can be a slave).

The unsullied, led by Greyworm try to put down the Sons. But Greyworm seems to be the only one really having any luck with it. Then Barristan joins in, and he’s like the coolest fighting old man since Obi Wan Kenobi, just slicing through Mask Heads, like they are his morning bagels.

Then he dies . . . which sucks, and Greyworm dies too. . . I think, maybe.

The final shot of the hour is a really gross hallway filled with a pile of murdered rotting disgusting corpses, kind of like what you would imagine Ramsey’s childhood bedroom would look like, if he ever had a childhood . . .

And that was “Sons of the Harpy.” Until next time, my friends . . .

My Initial Thoughts on HBO’s New Series “How to Make it in America”

“What are you, twelve?  How many times are you going to say f*&k The Man?”

“Until we ARE The Man!”

The above-referenced lines are uttered by the two main protagonists in the Pilot episode of HBO’s new series How to Make it in America.  Just a few weeks ago, I poked a bit of fun at the promos for the show, claiming that its premise looked a bit familiar.  And, yes, just like that other HBO show, How to Make it in America is about a group of enterprising, but hard-partying, New York native twenty-somethings, hoping to make a name for themselves in a less traditional manner — one that doesn’t involve an MBA and a corner office.  Oh, and did I mention that both shows are produced by this guy?

Yet, saying that How to Make it in America is literally a poor man’s Entourage, would be oversimplifying things a bit.  For starters, unlike Vinny Chase and Co., the show’s main characters, Ben Epstein (Bryan Greenberg . . . we’ll get to him in a bit) and Cam Calderone (Victor Rasuk) were not plucked out of obscurity and instantly granted unfettered access to the A-list lifestyle.  Rather, they are two average joes struggling to move up the social and economic ladder the long and hard way, hand over fist, while attempting to start a 70’s inspired denim line called Crisp.

As a twenty-something myself, working full time, while trying to establish myself as a novelist and Superblogger (or, at least, Adequateblogger), I can tell you firsthand that trying to “make it” in a non-traditional career path, without the necessary connections, is not always uplifting or glamorous.  Sometimes, for example, it requires doing things like staying up until 3 a.m. to type up a blog entry, when you have to get up for work at 6:30 a.m the next day.  I’m pretty sure Vinny Chase never did that.   (Adrien Grenier’s character, though pretty to look at, never struck me as particularly literary . . . or, even literate, for that matter).  

With the economy in its current state, it’s high time for a show that illustrates how the rest of us live.  Will How to Make it in America be that show?  I sure hope so . . .

Having watched the first two episodes of this new series, I am impressed by the authentic look of the show, which features as it’s main locale the often under used Lower East Side of NYC, in place of its more pristine and polished neighbors.  The show’s dialogue is sharp, and crackles with the same biting wit of Entourage, but with a bit less grand-standing and “aren’t I clever”-ness.

Along with Greenberg and Rasuk, How to Make it in America features an ecclectic and impressive cast of characters, including comic great Luis Guzman, up-and-coming rap star Kid Cudi, Lake Bell, of Boston Legal fame, 90’s icon Martha Plimpton, and Eddie Kaye Thomas (who you may remember as the dude who got it on with Stifler’s mom in the American Pie movies).

And, of course, we CAN’T forget to talk about HIM . . .

I’ve been a fan of Bryan Greenberg’s since his time as the loveable Jake on CW’s teen drama One Tree Hill.  Not only is he immensely talented, he is also pretty easy on the eyes.  Don’t you think? 

Greenberg has clearly been blessed with effortless good looks.  And yet, he carries them off in a relatable / non-intimidating “this guy might actually hang out with me” sort of way that makes him all the more appealing.  As if that wasn’t enough, he has a sexy gravely voice that makes me feel all tingly inside . . .

Admittedly, the first two episodes got off to a bit of a slow start, focusing mainly on scene -setting and character development.  However, given its unique premise, stellar setting, and sharp cast, I am very much looking forward to seeing this show really hit its stride in the episodes to come.

How to Make it in America airs Sunday nights at 10 p.m. (right after Big Love).

P.S.  Has the recession put a major cramp on your music-purchasing budget?  As a promotion for the show, HBO is offering viewers the ability to download a mixtape inspired by the series FOR FREE!!!!!  19 songs for less money than I find on the street each morning on my way to the subway . . .

When I first saw the promotion, I was skeptical, figuring that this would probably be nothing more than a lame extended commercial for the show in MP3 format.  However, the album was produced by Kid Cudi himself, and features an ecclectic array of music ranging from R&B and rap to funk to techo and even disco.  The songs feature transitions between one another, making the mixtape sound even better when played from beginning to end.  This album also offers some fun lines from the show and brief interviews with the cast.

And, hey, if it’s not your thing, at least you don’t have to pay for it, right?

You can preview and download the entire mixtape for the show here . . .

And now for something completely different (well . . . sort of)

        As I was preparing to watch the season premiere for Big Love (which I recapped for you here), I came across an HBO trailer for its four new “original” television series.  The trailer went something like this . . .

        From the people who brought you The Sopranos, a show about a present-day mafia family living in Northern New Jersey . . .

 . . .  here comes Boardwalk Empire, a show about a 1920s mafia family rising to power in Southern Jersey.

         From the people who brought you Entourage, a show about a twenty-something actor from Queens, New York, and his buddies, who relocate to Hollywood when the actor strikes it big on the silver screen . . .

 . . . here comes How to Make it in America, a show about a twenty-something fashion designer from Brooklyn, New York, and his buddies, who try to strike it rich in NYC.

          From the people who brought you The Wire, a realistic, often gritty, portrayal of urban life in Baltimore, Maryland . . .

 . . . here comes Treme, a realistic, often gritty portrayal of urban life in New Orleans, Louisianna.

           From the people who brought you Band of Brothers, a miniseries about World War II . . .

  . . .  here comes The Pacific, another miniseries about World War II.

           Now, don’t get me wrong, these all sound like really good shows.  And knowing me, I’ll probably watch every single one.  But am I the only one starting to notice a trend here? 

             Are we one day going to get to the point where all of the media we enjoy: our television shows, books, movies, and artwork, are nothing more than previously popular old concepts, dressed up in new and shiny packaging?  Has Hollywood just temporarily run out of new ideas?  Or are producers simply so primed against the possibility of failure that they are afraid to take a chance on something that is fresh and new?

            I guess only time will tell what types of programming will be reviewed ten years from now, on TV Recappers Anonymous: The Sequel.