Archive for 'game of thrones'



What Stace had to say on Monday, July 13th, 2015
GoT and stuff

The hubs’s work sometimes involves working with various charities, and last night we all headed down to Castle Drogo for the “Jazz at Drogo” event to support Cancer Research UK. It was a lovely event despite the weather (the music wasn’t my thing, but oh well) and the girls had lots of fun wandering around the gardens, which really are gorgeous, and getting a peek inside the castle during a reception at the beginning.

It turns out that the castle was named for its original owner, Julius Drewe, and the town it’s near/on the edge of, which is called Drewsteignton. It further turns out that Drewsteignton is named after its founder, a Norman baron named Drogo de Teigne, also known as Drewe de Teigne. So apparently “Drogo” means Drewe. Which immediately put me in mind of…

Hello. I'm King Drew.

Hello. I’m King Drew.

My friends call me Andy.

My friends call me Andy.

…which I know is kind of silly, but it made me giggle a bit anyway. (And really, any excuse to post pictures of this man is a good excuse, isn’t it?)

We enjoyed this latest season of Game of Thrones, though yeah, it wasn’t the best season there’s ever been. I’m kind of amused by all of the “new” theories popping up about Jon Snow, though, which aren’t new at all. I mean, I’ve (still, to my shame) never read the books and I figured this one out some time ago; that’s not meant as an insult to anyone who didn’t, but it’s ingenuous of a few TV reviewers to behave as if this is something they just invented.

For me (and for a lot of others, I think), reading the reviews and recaps is kind of an essential part of the whole viewing experience, which is amazing since ten or fifteen years ago we didn’t have anything like that. Now it’s a whole cottage industry, isn’t it, with written reviews and whole YouTube channels dedicated to discussions of TV shows. I’ve watched a few of those–I often watch movies or TV or listen to podcasts or whatever (look, I am SO modern and hip!) while washing dishes or cooking or puttering in the kitchen, as is my wont.

Anyway. I have an odd little theory of my own, which is probably utter crap. But here goes.

So this is the Night’s King:

Hiya. My name is not Drew.

Hiya. My name is not Drew.

There’s a whole little backstory to the Night’s King in the books, wherein (I’ll spare you from clicking, but this article on Vulture is interesting) he was the 13th Commander of the Night’s Watch (Jon is the 998th, so that’s a lot of years in between) and fell in love with a creepy white-skinned women and blah blah blah love turned him Eeevil and such. And his name isn’t recorded anywhere, and there are a few suspects, but some people think he was a Stark.

I think he was a Targaryen. Because dragonglass and fire. And dragons, which, see any resemblance?

Not the best angle for comparison, but it's hard to get imaginary creatures to pose for pictures.

Not the best angle for comparison, but it’s hard to get imaginary creatures to pose for pictures.

(By the way, in one of those recap shows, they were discussing the CGI of S5 Ep9. “He looked just like a real dragon!” one of the guys enthused, and while I knew what he meant, I had to pause it because I was giggling so hard at the idea that this gentleman thought dragons were real, and was pleased that the CGI guys had managed to recreate them so well on screen for those who had not yet made the journey to see one themselves. Presumably at the zoo in Valyria, or something.)

And maybe a dragon who “turns to the dark side,” or something, can be destroyed by the things that come from dragons, or, I dunno, I thought it was kind of a fun little idea, anyway. If I’m right I’ll be amazed. But half the fun of shows like this is having theories and imagining ways to predict where they’re going or what something means; not in a bizarre “The Shining is about the subjugation of Native Americans” way, but in a fun, “hey, this would be cool, wouldn’t it?” way.

Anyway. I’d intended to blog about something else today (actually it was supposed to go up last week), but I didn’t have it finished for today and I wanted to get something up, so here it is. I am still hard at work, oh me oh my.

Oh, here’s a rather dumb little gif.

nightskingapples

What Stace had to say on Monday, June 16th, 2014
Hiding

I’m hiding from the internet today.

See, last night all you lucky people in the US got to watch the GAME OF THRONES finale. Whereas the hubs and I–and everyone else in England–have to wait until 9 pm tonight. A WHOLE DAY LATER IT IS KILLING ME BLAAAH.

*******SPOILERS! SPOILERS UP TO THE PENULTIMATE EP OF SEASON 4!! HIGHLIGHT TO SEE SPOILERS!*******

What happens to Tyrion? Will Arya find Sansa? Does that psychopathic bastard Ramsey move his sadistic ass into the ruins of Winterfell to rebuild it and, I dunno, have a place where he can grin his evil grin while he drinks blood and tortures infants and conducts medical experiments that would shock Josef Mengele? What’s Stannis going to do? What about Sir Jorah–I love Sir Jorah and I’m so sad, even though really he did ruin everything and it’s his fault I don’t get to look at Khal Drogo anymore.

Some of the anticipation is gone now that Joffrey is dead and all; I mean, I was thrilled to see him die but it felt sort of anticlimactic. Mainly because I suspect most of us–or, okay, maybe just me–would only have been happy if the show had done a one-hour “Joffrey dies the hideous death he deserves” special, in which we saw clips of all of his worst acts–okay, it’d need to be, like, a four-hour miniseries event–and the people he’d wronged each got to come up, call him names, and slap him, and then stab him somewhere painful but non-deadly, like the Death of a Thousand You’re-A-Hideous-Shitbird Cuts, until finally Sansa and the ghost of Ned Stark finish him off by ass-fucking him with Ned’s sword Ice. And also, I’m disappointed that we found out so quickly who killed Joffrey, because Hubs and I were having a lot of fun imagining it like a game of GOT Clue: was it Sansa in the Observatory with the Poison Wine? Tyrion in the Tower of the Hand with the Valyrian Sword? Cersei in the Red Keep with the Crazy Malevolent Mother-Obsession? Margaery in the Garden with some sort of Magical Ingestible Torture Device? It was fun, but sadly, we now know Emma Peele did it, along with Littlefinger, who is just as sinister as the Red Death when the clock strikes twelve.

Feel free to comment on any of the above, but for the love of all that’s holy please don’t spoil me for the finale!! Because seriously, I will be very upset and will probably put you in a book suffering some sort of very undignified and stupid death. “We have a new case, Chess…there’s a woman who reported a ghost but then we found her dead. Apparently she was masturbating with a carrot and it broke, so she sent a mouse up there to eat it, and it died so she sat on the toilet to try to douche with bleach to clean it out but it hurt, so she stood up and tripped and drowned with her head in the bleach-filled toilet and a dead bleach-soaked mouse and a half-eaten carrot inside her ladybusiness there. Her name was _____ ____, and everyone hated her guts because she couldn’t keep her spoiling mouth shut. So I say we don’t need to investigate her ghost, because she got what she deserved for being stupid and horrible and spoiling GAME OF THRONES.”

Um…sorry, guys, that got sort of needlessly graphic and horrible, huh.

Anyway. I know there are spoilers out there, and so I must hide.

Not because I’m afraid of, say, being randomly attacked by a spoiler as I mind my own business walking down the internet street. No, I’m reasonably certain that most spoilers–not all, of course–mark themselves clearly as such, as they are respectable spoilers and do not wish to be mistaken for hints, previews, or mere theories. They’re proud to be spoilers and want the world to know it. Yes, there’s always that moron or dickhead who enjoys spoiling things for others, or dismisses complaints with, “It was on LAST NIGHT, man, if you haven’t seen it by now, that’s your fault,” but in general I’m not too afraid that I’ll be accosted by a spoiler while innocently researching the death penalty in Victorian England or reading humorous anecdotes on notalwaysright.com.

I just don’t trust myself. Right now I’m practically sweating, because I know there are spoilers out there and that I could find them. Easily. Five minutes from now I could know everything that happens; it’s the digital equivalent of knowing exactly where your parents hide the Christmas presents.

But you know, one year I found those presents, and realized that it really did ruin the run-up to the actual holiday and the holiday itself. It just wasn’t as much fun knowing exactly what was coming. Same with spoilers. (Plus, the hubs hates it when I know what’s coming and he doesn’t.) At least, not when I actually care what happens. I no longer particularly care what happens on MAD MEN, frex–watching Don Draper have a meltdown and turn into an insignificant sadsack, living in roach-infested filth and failing at everything he attempts, is not really what I signed up for when I got on board the MAD MEN train however many years ago (and don’t even get me started on splitting the final season in two, seriously. Because that story moves so fast it needs to give us time to breathe? uh-huh).

I watch MAD MEN to watch Don be clever and drink and get laid a lot while being impossibly smooth in nice suits. I don’t care if the point of the whole show is how men like that are secretly miserable or how that image is a miserable facade just like America in the early 60s or how the majority of men lead lives of quiet desperation in their gray flannel suits. That’s not a show I want to watch. I want Don to be awesome, and Roger to be awesome, and Peggy to not turn into a shrew right out of the pages of a 1950s True Confessions magazine (“I had it all, but I cried every night because without a husband it’s all meaningless, which is why I became a barfly and lost all my teeth and then had a hissybabyfit in the office because my secretary got flowers”), and Stan to be hilarious, and Joan to appear in every scene being cutting and gorgeous. (I can’t complain about what they did with Pete in the S7 episodes I watched, because he’s pretty much how he’s always been, only with louder pants.) That is why I watch.

To replace MAD MEN, we started watching HANNIBAL. I said on Twitter that if you’re not watching HANNIBAL, you are missing the fuck out, and that is entirely 100% true. More than that, even. It’s more true than even the craziest stereotypical football coach would feel comfortable expressing in a percentage (“That truth is giving 469%–oh, dammit, now I just sound like a moron, don’t I.”) so s/he would just go back to shouting “WIN! WIN! WIN!” (Remember, we’re discussing stereotypes here. Please do not get angry at me if you know and love a football coach, or are personally a football coach.) Seriously, you guys, HANNIBAL is SO GOOD. SO FUCKING GOOD. I thought it wouldn’t be good–it sounded sort of dumb and pointless to me–but I was wrong. It’s amazing. It’s so good that after the first couple of episodes I completely stopped noticing that Hugh Dancy’s earlobes are kind of hobbit-like.

But of course, it’s on summer hiatus. As GAME OF THRONES will be after tonight, and I honestly do not know what we’re going to do here–at least, what we’re going to do until JUSTIFIED’s fifth season comes out on DVD and we scrape together some money to buy it and have it shipped to us. But that’ll last us, like, a week and a half if we’re lucky. (Because JUSTIFIED? Also AWESOME, and you should watch it so we can all talk about it and trade little references like, “It was in your glass,” and dissolve into happy drooling sighs over Raylan and Boyd.

And we have some episodes of THE BLACKLIST still to watch, which is also a very good show and we like it a lot, although let’s be honest, compared to GAME OF THRONES it might as well be The Teletubbies. We have a couple of seasons of THE SOPRANOS that we never finished watching (I know, I know) and–shocking as I’m sure this will be–we have never actually seen THE WIRE, although we’ve both really wanted to.

So there will be things for me to watch on warm evenings as I sit on the couch and apply lotion to every exposed bit of skin I possess. (I realized last night that I do this every summer. It’s like I’m anointing myself for some sort of ritual, or I’m about to be placed on a very hot grill. You guys know I’m never far from a bottle of lotion anyway, because I’m constantly washing my hands, but in summer it gets sort of weirdly obsessive and at any given moment I’m contorting myself oddly on the couch rubbing coconut oil into my elbows, or something. I also put it in my hair. I’m like some sort of grooming machine.) I will somehow manage to be entertained throughout the summer, aside from the time I spend working, which will be plenty.

But what I’m watching won’t be new episodes of GAME OF THRONES, which is the saddest thing…well, the saddest thing I’ve said in this paragraph, because the stuff about the lotion is pretty pitiful, really.