The end of the Game..of Thrones.

Ramblings Post #368
My previous post got so many things wrong it wasn't even funny. A whole bunch folks I had written off not only survived, but came out the other shining. Wow. But now it's over and all that's left is the finger pointing. Sophie Turner who played Sansa feels that people dissatisfied with the ending are being disrespectful to the people - the artists, camera people, stunt folk, etc., - for all the effort they put into trying to make it the best show. But I think of it like going to a restaurant: I don't care how much effort the chef, the wait staff, the decorator put into all of it, if you serve me crap then it's bad restaurant. That's not disrespect, that's just real.

This whole thing is just loaded with Spoilers, so watch the episode first....

Great shot. I mean, the cinematographer and effects dudes worked this one. 

It's interesting how many folks found the image of Daenerys framed by wings of her dragon Drogon as she strode into speak to her victorious troops so iconic completely missed the fact that the scenes that followed invoked a rally in Munich in 1942. I mean, the shot wasn't particularly subtle either, nor was her speech about keeping the victory train rolling. As much as storytelling has created the idea in us that the hero is following their destiny, the idea that the villains motivation is also their belief in destiny shouldn't be lost. But then truth be told, the only satisfying ending for many viewers was for Daenerys to be crowned Queen, for her to then be completely supportive and understanding of the North's concerns and have the formidable Sansa also be crowned Queen of the North, Arya to do something majestic and all the male characters to just admit the women were better rulers than them and be accepting and ultra-supportive of their new futures as well. 

I'm starting to realize most of the commentary I have read on Game of Thrones has a particular viewpoint.

 We waited almost two years for this ending, which at best lackluster. It was not as horrible as How I Met Your Mother or Seinfeld, but it was only satisfying in the way that a jelly sandwich is when you were expecting well crafted pizza or a perfectly cook steak; you're not hungry anymore, which is was the point, but not really. To me, the whole season felt like the producers just started checking off boxes to get the ending they had been assigned. HBO offered them a full season, and probably would have given them two more just to keep it going a little farther. But they said nope, we can get it all in. They were wrong.

And the last episode has so many holes though it's hard to square up. So Jon kills Daenerys, and Gray Worm doesn't just kill him? They were cutting necks in the streets just minutes ago, now there is a call for justice. And after Daenerys goes down, her followers didn't immediately go crazy? After all, they were just cutting necks in the streets minutes ago. Wait, seeing as how they literally arrested and executed Varsys in five minutes for betrayal, why wasn't Tyrion ashed up immediately? What happened to Arya's prophecy about the eyes? Was that the whole Prince that was Promised thing? Was the whole point of Jon's heritage just to unhinge Daenerys? They didn't do a damn thing else with it. Why was everyone cool with Sansa saying the North would go it alone? I mean, damn, Yara was right there already mad and spitting fire! And finally, hold everything else - since nobody saw Jon hilt up the tyrant to be, how did they know? Did noble ass Jon confess? It should have been: Daenerys? Oh, she just left on Drogon. She's the Queen, she doesn't answer to me, I don't know where they went. Anyway, I'm headed back to Winterfell, toodles ...

She looks like she'll be a warm, benevolent ruler, doesn't she? Shot via HBO

I may have to sign the petition to request HBO redo the whole last season. And this time make it 15 episodes, so we can see how this all is really supposed to play out.

Apparently, according to this and so many other great series, endings are hard. Very hard. It has been clearly evident to the readers of the novels that Daenerys was going to go mad at some point. She not only bought the whole destiny to rule thing, she'd got the matching loveseat and ottoman. And to be honest, while she is good at the conquer part - what with her dragon cheat code - she's never demonstrated an aptitude for the actual ruling part. She'd "liberated" Slaver's Bay and Meereen only to muck them up and abandon them for more conquest, something she was about to continue in Westeros. She'd just destroyed the capital and had no real plans to rebuild, or feed, or even manage her new subjects. Just more conquest. But her fanbase however really loved her story arc and all it's triumphs, weeee!

For all the moaning about how uninteresting Jon Snow was as a hero, apparently most viewers don't realize he was (is) the author's avatar. But I never expected him to get the throne but he was a just dude who valued life in an age where killing was Tuesday afternoon. I had a theory that Arya would house Daenerys, then Jon would have to defend her and when Drogon goes to ash him it in front of everyone still living turns out he's fireproof as well, confirming his heritage for whatever. Then he'd reject the throne and head back up north, where he'd become a lumberjack and...no, wait, wrong story. Stop at the head back up north part.

I personally found the ending ho-um. Neat, maybe a little too much for something that was so sprawling and gory. You just kind of expecting one last subversion, one last surprise, but I think the producers were already on to the next project in the mind. Or at least it felt that way. When they say that the book was better than the movie (or visual interpretation) this is what they're talking about. I think a lot of folks are going to read the books - should they ever get finished - just so they can sleep at night.

But here we are. It's over. done.  

So who really won the Game of Thrones? Did Bran have it rigged from the start? No, the winner clearly was Bronn. Because while Brienne got knighted, Grey Worm lived to the end, Samwell got to have a kid and Sansa got a kingdom all her own, good ole' Bronn went from busted ass Sell-Sword to owning the fabulous estates at HighGarden and a seat on the Small Council as Master of Coin, without having to fight the dead at the Battle of Winterfell or face Drogon at the Sack of Kings Landing. Pretty damn sweet if you ask me.

Barkeep. Some Dornish wine. What? Seriously, no one has cashed in on that yet? Wow. Okay, then whiskey and some water. Make it ice from the Wall. Seriously, no one? Slackers.

Let me hear it one last time..

"We Out. Hey Joe, I know this spot got fish fresh off the grease..."

"My President is black, my Lambo is blue..."

It is a sad day.

As Sporty said, don't forget to set your clock back 350 years tonight.

It's always hard going back after a long vacation. You'd gotten used to silly things, things like a movement towards justice, concern about the environment, healthcare and human rights. Then back comes the UGH. In one fell swoop, it's like the world just went gray after you've gotten used to sunshine and hope and compassion. True it wasn't all great, there was always that undercurrent of problems you'd thought you'd left behind - of bad rhetoric and opposition, but you were on vacation. It didn't seem to matter as much. You even dreamed that the vacation might get extended. That you could potentially move and be on vacation forever.

But alas no. The UGH is back, and it seems like everything you left on your desk is still there, but now with all the stuff you missed while you were away. And it even seems like more stuff since they now realize you take vacations. The UGH. You'd almost thought it was going to be a distant memory.

That just means we need to start planning for our next vacation.

Thank you, President Barack Hussein Obama.

This is the part where somebody screams "TAKE ME WITH YOU"      

Gawker ye shall be missed.

Ramblings Post #319
You never really miss something until it's gone. Because usually, and quite mistakenly, we all have a tendency to believe that those things we care about, or at least like, or have gotten familiar with will be around until we come back to it. It's that sinking feeling when you get a taste for something, then ride over to get it only to find that the place that served that certain something is now a Starbucks. Unless you wanted Starbucks, in which case I'm ashamed for you. 

Gawker. Good Media. Gone too soon.

I used to read Gawker a lot. It was kind of what I like to call Buddy Media, and by that I mean that it's selection seemed more like things a guy you actually know would chose than an actual media outlet. A smart guy, but a guy you know, like from school or the bar. Sometimes it was insightful and meaningful stories that made you think. Other times it was dumb or silly reporting that made you wonder if people actually got paid for that crap. But, it was always interesting. And now, out of spite, it's gone.

Online media has always been an odd play for real news. Professional organizations like CBS and NBC seemingly just edited their regular news stories down and stuck them on the web. Other professional groups, like Slate, takes serious questions and cuts them down into a mix of short articles, bite sized chunks and blurbs. So how to differentiate yourself? That would have been Gawker, whose slightly opinionated occasionally off kilter and sometimes oddly refreshing and informative news articles kept you coming back. Important journalism, with things you didn't even know you needed to know, mixed with stories you knew you didn't need to know, but read anyway. Then they branched out, covering sports, video games, women's issues and more. It was good journalism, but a few times  a week you knew they'd just posted something and left the office early, maybe for margaritas.

Now, I understand most of it survived. Jezebel, Kokatu, Deadspin and the others will live on. But the linchpin, the hub, Gawker itself, is too toxic a brand to be viable. And so the digital fourth estate loses its class clown, leaving behind a void of much needed slightly reckless reporting that keeps the news fresh and from appearing to be what most of it is now....PR work. Tough shoes to fill.

Hey, I'll give'em five dollars for the address. Let those who will be offended sue me.

Barkeep, first article, how to get free drinks at the bar. What? What did I say? I have cash! 

Ah, but we will miss the sound of the Caged Bird

Maya Angelou - The becoming

Maya Angelou: Poet Laureate, Pulitzer nominee, Tony Award winner, best selling author, poetess, winner of more than 50 honorary degrees, mother, sister, daughter, wife, National Medal of Arts winner, Presidential Medal of Freedom winner, consummate and powerful woman.

And the world is a little less bright.

Maya Angelou - The blessing

Breaking Bad (as required by Internet Rule # 47854b)

Ramblings Post #240

There are certain Rules. You don’t put pineapple on a pizza. Chocolate is the best flavor. You don't buy beer, your rent. Reading is fundamental. You don't hit a girl. Two plus two equals five for large values of two. You don't talk about fight club. And if it is a hot topic, your blog must comment on it...if only in passing. So, today, we discuss a television show I never really saw.

He was the danger - (pic from Huffington Post via AMC)

I have watched a few clips and maybe one and half episodes of Breaking Bad. Well, the second half of one episode and then the episode that followed it in the marathon I stumbled into. As it happened, the whole episode I did happen to see was the where they killed off Gus Fring, and had I completely understood what was going on - I did to read the Wiki later -  I would have been much more impressed than I was just piecing things together.

I think it was because I missed the beginning of the series that I was never really able to get into it, but there were still other things I was kinda irked about. The original premise - Schoolteacher with cancer turns crime to provide for his family after death - just smelled wrong. I'd already seen the lead character with cancer trope go wrong for Showtime, because if the show becomes popular and you need more seasons, the quick fix is the cancer goes into remission, whoosh! It's a way too easy writer out, and wrecks the motivation aspect. But then most television writing has to be so conditional...the afore mentioned ratings, character popularity, who agreed to come back next season, etc...that a writers room can churn out something worth watching nothing short of extraordinary.  Still, I don't appreciate "trapdoors" like that. I expect more creativity.

The continuing theme of "anti-hero" is starting to get less than enjoyable as well. We've starting celebrating killers and thieves in our popular culture. Not "bad" people, like we did in the 70s, but people who are actually bad. There is a book series that I like, but I cannot read, because the bad guy gets away with too often. This show reminds of that - not characters who live their lives and do things because that's how they have always done them, but people who actively chose to do these "bad" things when other possibilities existed. But then fans never really talk about his motivations, and the clips of him with is family never seem to have the right flavor.  

But, the episodes I did see I liked. They were gritty not flashy, the characters seemed very grounded. That the drug lord ran an actual business and drove a station wagon I found refreshing, instead of the the usual nightclub. Ultimately however, the story was in my mind far too sprawling at the point I entered it. The Wiki just kept going and going. Maybe in the future, when I have extra money to go with some time, I'll get the whole box set (or rent the whole box set) and watch it all in one mindless torrent. Maybe.

"Like, literally the best work of art that television has ever produced.” That's the quote I keep hearing, comparing it to things like the Wire and the Sopranos. To that I have to ask... um, how long have you owned a television? How many channels do you get? Do premium channels not count?

Maybe I need to watch another couple of episodes. 

Thoughts of things past

Relapse Post #1
This is Sporty's birthday weekend. First time in a long time we didn't hang out. Journey of a thousand miles starts somewhere. And me with no frequent flier miles.

I still think of her daily. It's sad that I still do that, but I can't help it. Why can't you just let it go you ask? It's over, it's done, why are you still here is the question? If you can toss away a relationship like a napkin without a look back, then it it says at lot about you and how you think of people. I like to think I'm more than that, better than that. And since I've tried living my life on other peoples terms and having found that my opinion does really mean something, this is how it is. I'm not gonna apologize for who I am or how I feel.

It will fade eventually...hopefully. Until then I see her face and imagine her in scenes in my mind and as I trod the path of daily life, both fantastic and mundane, the simple and the exciting.

A black sweater dress from a magazine ad drapes over her body.

A hoodie and jeans, her head tilted to the side just slightly. Her face shines out.

Profiling in the back of the Bentley, shades on.

Just a towel, her skin slick and wet.

On a motorcycle, red and black with her number on the side, a devilish grin on her face.

In a sleeveless deep purple evening gown holding a champagne flute.

In a tank top and long shorts, sweaty with her hands wrapped fresh from a boxing workout.

In a mini skirt and halter top, leaned against the bar taking shots of tequila.

In a man's t-shirt and boy shorts, on the couch curled up and comfy.

Laughing as the jeep gets airborne as we race over the dunes.

Grocery shopping.

Stockings. Garter. Bustier.

On the beach in Greece, in a bikini top and a wrap, watching the sunset.

She is far too much to classify with a single image of imagination, to much to see as anything but whatever it is she wants to be. That's why the vision varies. Strong, sexy, elegant, fun, cool, comfortable. Sporty.

The last one is a memory.

Her elbows on the table, hands on her chin cupping her face, her eyes kinda looking up.

She would do it occasionally during our conversations after a dinner, as we sat soaking up the ambiance and alcohol. It was the only time I ever heard her little girl voice. It was the only time I ever liked hearing any woman's little girl voice.

Absolutely beautiful.

It's so hard to let go.

A couple of errant thoughts

Mental Rehab Post #17
This one is kinda stream of consciousness talking half to myself and half to nobody in particular, and I'm hardest on myself. As we all know hindsight is 20/20, it's always what I should have done, what I should have said, what I meant to do. And it never changes. I've been looking for a long time and it hasn't yet.

I wonder how long will it be..

How long before my soul won't be able to recover from the many wounds I've inflicted upon it?
How long before my mind is unable to cope with stress of yet another unrequited love?
How long before my heart just stops...

I look into the mirror and see lonely. I see that special kind of lonely that happens in a crowded room, surrounded by attentive listeners. A lonely that comes when you reach out for a real connection and find nothing, only a collection of empty comments and commercialized dreams. It's tragic and funny, as the you die in a room full of people watching as you pretend not to go, as the whole world pretends it didn't happen because it would mess up their plans. Moment by moment all your hopes and dreams slip away and on the other side of then it will be as though you never existed, that it all has been a fever dream.

I want to cry, but nobody likes a sad clown. And it feels like nobody would care.

Will I be able to put it on again? To hide the me hoping for a real connection and become that character I created to get me through all those lonely hours. Will I be able to make it believable again? It was hard to play before and will be harder now that I've seen the alternative.

I argue with myself, as to why I've stayed silent, why I can't voice what I feel and lay my cards on the table like a grown up. I want to say I've taken the noble way, to spare anyone else ill feelings or disagreeable moments, but the reality it's the cowards turn in hopes that the emotional doomsday ending on the horizon will leave me with something to start over with. A shred of hope that I can imagine into something I can live with while I pretend my reality isn't going to be what it is.

And maybe God has something else for me. But I doubt it.

2008 been 'berry 'berry bad to me

I cried.

Last night I lay down on my bed and cried.


So hard my head hurt, curled up in a fetal position wishing the world would go away. Just like that day in Ms. Gordon's English class when I was thirteen. So hard that I had to fight the emotion back down and put it back inside it's proverbial box, to I guess, let it eat away me until I can afford good therapy. Really really good therapy.

The show is over. Sporty and I talked and... dreamtime is no more.

At work I can feel it behind my eyes when an errant memory flashes, a visceral emotion that threatens to cause a torrent of tears, which would then lead to a need for explanations. I suddenly would like the Lacuna treatment from that Jim Carrey movie I only half watched. I'm having dangerous thoughts. I feel like I only imagined the whole thing.

Sometime in the next few months, I'll open the door to that mental dressing room in the back of my mind and put on the makeup again. And pretend to be that someone else. Maybe forever.

I really hoped it wouldn't come to this. Playing at being someone that someone will like. I just wanted to be that someone that they did like. Really like.

I really really did.

Then karma hits me square in the mouth

Sometimes, the hints you get in life are subtle, and we miss them in the hustle and bustle only realize later that this was a clue that maybe, just maybe you'd missed an opportunity or let something get past you. You realize later that if you had done X or said Y the whole outcome would have shifted.

And then there are moments like this.

When the clue is obvious, so blatant, it's like God grabbed to top of your head, twisted it around to where he wants you look and says "here stupid", like you're Curley in a Three Stooges movie or trying to shove the dog's nose in it's mess to show it's mistake.

Short version - Sporty and I were still doing whatever it is we do. She texted that she misses me, and she'll be in town on x-day, etc. So we're now dancing around a new concept, trading I miss you's and I love you's when her "man" proposes to her...on my birthday.

Well.

There are 364 other days in a year and he picked this one?

Thinking maybe I missed something? Think God is saying for wasting all this time...take that? I'm getting that feeling.

Her message says "I was presented with an engagement ring". It ends with "luv u."

I've always been a little slow. But damn. Shit. Why can't she just say it? I'm gonna get up and do something, been in bed since I got home. Lifequakes and aftershocks.

Poetry

I awake every morning
each day fresh
numbly yawning at the dawning
another daylong session of control
as struggle to keep
the tightest grip on my soul
I can feel the pressure behind my eyes
tapping on the windows
as I contain the all feelings inside
it takes a moment to become the facade
the one I've constructed
crafted and worked on so hard
the smiling face and understanding grin
Mr. No I'm good
one more time I become him
a quiet voice in the face of rage
with the coming of the sun
he steps out onto life's stage
and no one knows the inner me
shrouded well
where no one can accidentally see

I keep close at heart the secret truth
the loneliness, failures
the days and nights of wasted youth
support given and not to be returned
opportunities missed
romance spurned

because sad is lonely
and nobody I know wants to be alone

And the band played on...

In the grand tradition of all short timers...I was leaving in a week, well damnit I'm going today.

Instead of Friday, yesterday was Sporty's last day at our job. She's moving away (I might not have mentioned that) to get her new business started, and I'm left here to pick up the pieces of my soul and figure where to go from here.

We spent a last few minutes in the office as she set up my new blackberry to make sure we can IM each other, and that I had all her information.

In typical fashion, a day late and dollar short, I sent her this missive last night:

My time grows short.

Not my lifetime, for with the genes fate has granted me and with miracles of modern technology barring my own reckless stupidity I'm going to see the other side of ancient. That time is long in coming and promises long periods of the mundane punctuated by frequent bouts of adventure by accident and excitement in short intense binges.

No, something more important grows close to it's end. The end of a dream.

I don't think I have ever clicked better with any woman I have ever met. She's smart, she's funny, she's passionate and she gets me on so many levels. I have seen myself spending years with her. She is the first woman I have ever seriously considered asking to marry me. We became a term I used in describing things. She shared herself with me. She counted on me and expected things from me. And despite my previous hedonistic nature, that feeling of being needed felt nice.

And now that is coming to an end.

She says I didn't do anything wrong, but I believe I was born a few years too early, or wasn't expressive enough or a shade less aggressive than the next man, and as such this great experience that I used to thank god for in the dark of the night is now fast approaching a conclusion I thought might not come for forty or more years. I want to say I wish I had done this or said that, but that might have changed that delicious flavor of what we were. Sometimes the two ships passing in the night actually do pass.

But I still love her. And I always will.

I never learned how to stop caring for someone. I've seen it as a neat trick in others, how they are able to care for people one day and then have a argument or disagreement and suddenly somehow discard those feelings as though they no longer fit or have become toxic. I have never been able to do that. I don't know if I would be better or worse if I could, but for this last of the romantics love is forever. Come what may. I eventually mentally come to a working understanding of how things are when the feelings I want to share are unrequited, but it will only be that I've figured out how to suppressed my emotion. They'll still be there, shifting and breathing underneath a calm carefully constructed countenance.

And the world will go on.

I mean, I have notes and scribbles of half though ideas I haven't looked at in years that I can't bring myself to get rid of, so a living breathing person whom I adore and care for, sometimes more than I cared for myself, and who shows concern for me, well her moving on to the next part of their life wasn't going to devolve me into a "who's next" or a "just let it go situation." She is not replaceable. I am her friend because I was her friend, because it was the only way to really love someone is to like them first. And thus we existed as more than friends but less than lovers.

I'll still feel the same even if... even if her future plays out without me, to put in a way I can write with getting emotional.

Soon I will awake from this wondrous dream I called my life for the past few years. I could no more ask her to not go than I could stop being concerned for her. As long as she is happy I will figure something out. A selfless concern that borders on the silly I realize, but that is me. As for what awaits me in the world I know not, but it will be returning to the shadows from the sunshine. The solo hedonism that I return to has lost it's appeal. She changed me.

It's something I probably should have sent or should have said years ago. But the old lack of communication skills in this field do not serve me well.

Her reply is that she's speechless, but that we're friends to the end.

Exactly. She had no idea.

And the band....played on.

The End of the World as We Know it

It only took six months for my hopes and dreams to unravel. From November 2007 to May 2008 I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the words that mean the end has come from Sporty. It's been a wonderful ride. I had hoped it would last forever, but then nothing ever does.

It's moments like this that I wonder what God has in store for me, what my purpose is. Sometimes it feels like my existence is a doodle in the margins of his creation, and I'm not connected and never will be.

I feel empty and drained. Last night over the three hours Sporty and I hung out, dinner downtown and then dessert in Buckhead I wanted to tell her so much and say so many things and magically change reality, And then the movie would end with tears and promises and all that we'd live happily ever after. But this isn't a movie, the popcorn isn't fresh and gas is almost $4 a gallon. What I was ... was all cryptic and stoic and basically trying to not start crying, because apparently I'm even bad comedy relief in the film that is my life. I could have thrown it all there, pour my feelings and my heart out to her, but for what? It's not going to change anything. I'm still going to be alone again.

But then I'm not sure I ever stopped being alone.

You know....I could have sworn this blog was supposed to be funny. As it is it's turned into a online therapy session and restaurant review with the occasional odd quote and weird blog entry thrown in for variety's sake. Where are the funny stories? Where the tales of snaking through clubs and mornings spent coercing young misses to get naked hours after meeting them? The alcohol soaked memoirs of college nights and coed days? Witty political dialogue? Funny observations about life? Where is the fun? What happened?

I think I got old.
I think it's all getting old.
I think I just don't want to play anymore.

I mean If I'm so great, how come nobody I want to be with wants to be with me?

Barkeep. Can we just talk for a while?

Somebody Turned on the Lights!

They're closing Disco Kroger.

Okay, they took Buckhead and all the seedy clubs that gave Atlanta a nightlife and made it more of the international city it claims to be (note: International cities don't close at midnight). And then they came for midtown, with Trump this and Tower that, gentrifying the hell out of what gave the city it's character. Then the projects... okay, I'm kinda glad for that one. and now they come for the Disco. It is a sad three am in Atlanta.

When I first moved to Atlanta, Disco Kroger was my nearest grocery store, just off the corner of Piedmont and Peachtree. I was working for an internet startup and my hours were my own, so I could end up trolling the aisles at 3pm just as well as 3am any night of the week. It was interesting what you could see at Kroger at 4am. A lady in a evening gown getting cheese and eggs. Two punk rockers with Captain Crunch and milk. Two slacker looking dudes with a stack of frozen meals and juice. Three party girls - two of whom were drunk - with a passel of snack food. And a roast chicken.

Disco Kroger was the great equalizer. It didn't matter which club you had started at, you all ended up at Disco Kroger. Or Backstreet. I loved that store.

Reportedly they're going to be opening a new high end grocery there, kinda like Harry's used to be (if you don't remember Harry's it's complicated). Which is cool. Or would be if it didn't mean excising Disco Kroger.

Does this mean that Bones is in jeopardy? Or Buckhead Backlot? Where are my memories going? Sometimes I think the city needs to slow down and appreciate what makes Atlanta the city it is, and it's not the location, and occasionally it ain't the people, but the semi pseudo institutions that have lived and thrived here despite. There should have been a special dispensation for Atlanta's twenty four hour nightspots. Closing a Waffle House should take an act of the State Senate.

Who in Atlanta doesn't have a Kroger card?

Barkeep - Give me some of the that Big K soda.

Bad Day

They say God doesn't give you more than you can handle. I really hope that's true.

I really wish I could just want things. Things are simple. You work for them, save, plan and you get them. I really wish I could be happy having things. My life would be simple with things.

But my happiness depends on other people. I need relationships and experiences. And other people always seem to have other plans.

I really just want to go home, to my mother's house, go to sleep and wake up and be five years old. 1974. I really really wish I could. I'm not feeling very well. I don't want to play anymore.

Barkeep...I'm just gonna sit here for a while.

The Crunchy Cheez Doodle Affair

As a kid, I never really liked cheese. If the family went out for pizza, we would have to stop at McDonald's (a whole other story, whoo boy) and get me a burger. Cheese looked nasty and I wanted no parts of it. It messed up the taste of hamburger, made a pizza look like someone with a cold had blew their nose on it, and on cracker did something to my mouth that made swallowing it impossible. And I love Ritz.

But sometime in high school, I discovered of all things - a cheese flavored snack I liked. Don't ask me how.

I ate Cheetos on Friday nights when my brother I watched the Dukes of Hazzard (which is another amazing story in retrospect) and we'd go through a whole bag in an hour. It's one of those moments you look back on think how great childhood was, forgetting now that bedtime was 9:30pm, dinner was what was put in front of you and your mother picked your clothes. Let's just say my mother and I don't share the same style.

Then sometime either in high school or right when I got to college, I switched to Wise brand Crunchy Cheez Doodle. An air puffed crunchy confection that saw me through the best and worst of times.

If I only had five dollars with which to buy groceries for the week, I would waste a buck and change on a bag.
If I only had two dollars for lunch, they sold a snack bag for fifty cents at the union.
If I had more than few dollars, I'd buy two or three bags.

After I graduated, I kept up the habit. And when I moved to Atlanta I can say I honestly based my shopping habits around if the store carried them or not. Kroger didn't carry them but Publix did. I became a Publix shopper. There were days I'd pop in after work and in an aisle chock full of chips and dip, pretzels and the like, that blue bagged cheez-like crack would be the only thing they would sell out of. I had discussions with management over why they didn't keep more on hand. That and why Publix doesn't sell Orange kool-aid, which is still a mystery (I can however, order it according the manager.)

When the Internet start up only paid me in their tissue paper like stock, I ate the CCD.
When I was on a diet and could eat no carbs, I snuck the CCD.
When I had no other snack food in my house, a bowl of CCD and tall glass of koolaid were enough.

Then, somebody real bright decided to change the forumla. Make it MORE cheezy.

Look, if I wanted a real cheese flavor, I would I dunno...eat cheese?

So I tried it. And for the first time in my life, I wrote a company to complain about their product. Okay, I wrote them on the internet, but I still wrote. I expressed digust and dismay. I told them this story (not verbatim, but close) and they sent me back a lovely thank you for writing email. In other words, they brushed me off.

I would wander up the chip aisle at the grocery store, hungry for a chip...but nothing caught my eye.

Or rather, something did catch my eye. Wise brand Crunchy Cheez Doodles. Where I used to have to search for a bag, hoping for one last one in among the potato chips, there now were ten or twelve bags of the new stuff just sitting there. In the past they sold out regularly, now... apparently I wasn't the only one! There was hope!

So I waited, checking periodically, hoping somebody's brain would finally kick in and say "Hey, the new stuff isn't selling, let's go back to old stuff before we run off our market!" But apparently they need to hire someone with a MBA in common sense at whoever owns the Wise Brand...I forget who it is. This maybe two years ago.

Last week I went in Publix and there were NO Crunchy Cheez Doodles of any kind. It looked like there wasn't even a space for them in the chip racks. It made me sad. Oh what I would give to taste that semi cheezy like flavor once again...alas.

Barkeep...Orange koolaid. To keep the memory fresh.

The last few seconds...

Like many, I thought at 10:03pm Sunday night that my cable had went out.

As I nearly leaned off the couch waiting for a)Meadow to get hit a car b) Meadow to walk in on her father getting shot c) Tony to follow and kill the guy in the bathroom d) Tony to get clipped by the guy coming out of the bathroom e) I don't know, anything...my screen and yours went black on some of the best televsion since Fox's Profit or Action. Or the first season of Sheriff Lobo. (Hey, I like what I like)

Instead I got wrap up. Phil's boys get antsy and like people do in real life realize that making money is preferable to killing so they cut a deal. Tony goes to see Sil and feels bad. Tony goes to see Uncle June and feels okay about it. One of his guys turns and Tony might get indicted. Paulie acts superstitious. AJ wants to join the army then finally stops moping around when somebody mentions Hollywood. Meadow is getting married and is on track to a good job.

For this I sat glued to my seat for 62 minutes?

Okay when they capped Phil in front of the wife and grandkids, now that was cool. And Tony dancing with the Feds. If nobody had died you would have sworn this was a badly written if not boring soap opera and not the freaking Sopranos. And I'm still not sure it was. Are we absolutely sure that they won't sneak the real last episode on next Sunday when nobody's watching?

Tony should burned down Flatbush Wax Removal or whatever that place was. Paulie should have shown up some where with three machine gun toting mugs and flap blasted someobody. Instead Carmella comments on the mail and Janice sits on the back porch trying to figure out how to steal her uncle's money. This is supposed to be well crafted drama? Really?

I've heard that Mr. Chase is oblique kinda guy, but this is ridiculous. Over the past two days I've heard it cursed and praised. There was even a rumor that the guy at the counter in the final scene is listed in the credits as Phil's newphew and the black screeen is meant indicate Tony's life ended. Or that the real ending will only be available on the DVD. Both are lies. This is quite frankly a piss poor attempt at suspenseful ending that leaves the audience empty. Okay, those intellectuals who feel the director was trying to say something subtle feel okay, but the rest of us feel a little cheated.

Compared to their last culturally significant show the always interesting Sex in the City (yeah, I watched) we saw at the end that Carrie got back with Big. We don't know if it lasted or anything, I mean they'd been off and on forever so it could have been temporary, but we had some sembelance of closure. This was supposed to be a smarter show and loose ends are understandable. Sil's still in the hospital. Tony might be going to trial. Meadow might find herself picking between her husband and her father. Those are loose ends. The last few seconds was cheap melodrama worthy of a egostic Oklahoma City Tech School film school student.

I'm not very happy with these HBO folks right now. And no, I really wasn't interested in watching surfers in John from Cinncinati, either.

Barkeep...Knob Creek. No ice.