(Part 1's on Best of the Fray. Suckers!)
So Alma's back on the junk, Leon has an extended conversation with his reflection in a mud puddle, Steve has an extended conversation with a horse and then proceeds, I can only guess, to get his brains kicked in by it, a horse belonging to Little Nigger General, no less, the same "black bastard" who has the misfortune of stumbling across Steve's body, Al has an extended conversation with, that's right, the dead indian's chopped off head-in-a-box, Dan yanks out Captain Turner's eyeball and then brains him with some firewood.
And Sheriff Bullock has the brilliant idea of leading Hearst out of the Belle Union by the ear like he's 7 years old for all to see from miles away when Captain Turner's body isn't even cold yet and leaves him in jail overnight with the corpse whose murder he's accused of authoring days before? He's quite the strategerist, a regular Karl Rove of the wild west there, Seth. Oh, good, Charlie. Antagonize him some more while you're over there separating the Wells Fargo and Sears catalogues. Very constructive.
My favorite line thus far has to be Al to Trixie: "Get the fuck out, you loopy cunt!"
Tolliver's scene with Hearst and Swearingen challenged the intestinal fortitude of my subwoofer.
Watching the fist fight on youtube's tiny little window with monaural audio did justice to neither the choreography, the brutality, nor the sound design. I feel like I really know just exactly what it sounds like to crush a man's skull with a faggot, or to have your face bitten into.
The number of times I need to see Jane naked I can count on no hands.
The irony of Steve getting killed (presumably) by the horse owned by a member of a race that he finds inferior all the while engaged in trying to trick that member of that race into staying and working at his newly acquired livery out of some twisted sense of affection since Hostetler played peekaboo with a sawed off cannon because he couldn't stand being called a liar is a bitter pill only Milch would make us swallow.
The number of times I need to see Jody naked I can count on one penis.
I think I've still got a few more episodes to go, but I'm still worried that after the last episode ends, I'm going to feel like I've just had sex but never achieved an orgasm. Wish me luck.
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8 comments:
Excellent, and welcome to the blogosphere. It won't know what hit it. Haven't made the leap yet, myself, time being linear, unidirectional, and relatively constant and all (I've got test blogs scattered hither and yon as monuments to my effort to learn the technologies involved, but nothing, y'know, real yet).
Deadwood is immaculate telivision. Major Dad is compelling as Hearst and consistently delivers a satisfying performance oozing malevolent misuse of power, even in his "tender" moments with his "personal staff". As I mentioned to you over in that other place, I'm distraught by the prospect of it ending here (here's hoping the rumors of a wrap-up movie or two pans out).
Hey, how come the comment button didn't take me to that nuponuq forum thing?
Please please please let them wrap it up. I'm not even sure I want to watch any more for fear of death by fatal disappointment.
Always great to see you.
I don't know how the link back thingie works. I think I'm supposed to tell Schad or Ender to do something.
I've much to tell you, but it'll have to wait. Hoping you and yours are well, m'boy.
Oh great. Make a liar out of me.
That's a way to keep a reader.
I'm sorry. Not my intention. It's just some men are man enough to "wear pink". I'm not one of them.
Please stay. I'll try to make it up to you. In fact...
Instructions and stuff located here (warning: some level of geekitude required... and a secret: I wrote all that technocrap, even though it has Schad's name on it!).
Alternatively, if you want to give me temp access to your blog management page (change your password now, put it back later kinda thing), then I can hook you up. Email me at skitchwa at hotmail dot com if you wanna go that route.
Awwwwwww....thanks, hon.
(You are now bookmarked.)
Do you think anyone would be interested in reading a Dispatch from the National Tractor Pulling Championship?
"Don't know why I didn't come." Only you could manage to combine Jeremy Piven, Norah Jones and Florence Nightengale. And no, I don't know what that means. Smooch.
I don't know about y'all, but I was thinking about baseball. Always makes me snooze.
What's a Deadwood?
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