2007-11-28
Deadwood. It Had to Come to This.
Oh Deadwood.
It was only a matter of time before this show and I found each other and it is good for the laws of the universe that we only met after the show had been cancelled.
Filthy language?
Check.
A ridiculous amount of dust and dirt?
Check.
Constant drinking, fucking, and fighting?
Check, Check, and a very hearty Check!!
Now, I love watching shows that I rent in DVD form. I've seen them all, too... The Sopranos, Weeds, Six Feet Under, Big Love, Entourage and others I'm leaving out, I'm certain.
I like to rent the entire season of a show and watch it as straight through as I can. It's like the biggest mini-series on TV except you pay a lot for it, unless you rent 'em up on two-fer-one nights at Casa Video.
Like I do.
And then I become immersed in them.
While I was into Weeds, I was convinced that everyone I knew smoked pot and that it was totally normal in the suburbs. I was also pretty sure that I should just give up the ghost of eternal and abiding love because apparently, everyone who lives in a wealthy and lovely suburb looks like the people on that show.
That fact does not bode well for me.
The Sopranos?
That show is in a league of its own, my friends.
When I watch it though, I really feel like I need to start stashing cash in weird places and I think that I need more fancy sweat-suits.
I also want to wear a lot of gold jewelry and get acrylics when I immerse in that show, and I start thinking about things like how nice it would be if everyone had a mafia level of trust in extended family.
Six Feet Under?
Actually, I can't go too far at a time with that one. It's fantastical, I know, but it's also real. The Fishers were relatively normal and so the emotional parts were too close to home sometimes.
Brenda was too close to home sometimes, with her fear of commitment and her rose-colored but strangely reality-based glasses.
Deadwood.
Oh god.
I want, more than anything, to have some cock-suckers over for a fucking get together where I will serve peaches and whiskey.
I want to have entire conversations with my eyebrows and then fight the people who misunderstand me until we are both beaten within an foot of the ever-loving shit of our shitty lives.
I want to solve problems with murder and have an entire "town" be grateful to me for it.
I want to be offered a shot of whiskey IN ANY BUILDING I ENTER and take laudanum for cramps and eat breakfast at a hotel or a Saloon every morning.
I want to speak formally and offer my insincerest apologies for any past rebuke.
I want to remind people that if we don't get started on projects fast enough, then those whom I've hired to help will take to drink and pussy and we'll have to do all the work ourselves.
Deadwood is a dangerous show. It will suck you in and make you want to become a whore.
Literally.
Or a widow.
I mean, this is a show where the soft part, the break in the cussing and the fighting is a drug-addicted widow who is sleeping with a married man.
This show is my imagination's crack and I am firmly in the midst of The Most Dangerous Game of Pretend, I have ever had.
You know the game children play, 'Let's play pretend!"
"Okay. Pretend you're a pioneer.
It's muddy and I'm wearing skins and I don't have anything to feed my pigs!!"
"Well, here's a couple of guys I killed and robbed for gold out on the road to camp - feed them to your hogs."
"Okay, thanks! Now, where-ever have I lost my hat? I must have left it at the saloon when I was paid in solid emeralds for my work as a whore. Well, I guess I'll have to go back there to get it. Give me my gun, cocksucker!"
Omigod, they've all been damaged by the Civil War and they are all pioneer control-freaks who have struck out with the intention of going someplace that does not have laws and that does have a phenomenal amount of precious gold to rape form the land that has recently been stolen from the dirt-worshipping Red Man.
Sweet.
I'd take my dog, my foul mouth, my taste for whiskey, and forget about bathing for a few weeks in a heartbeat.
Wouldn't you?
Watch this show!
This is the penultimate in television for people like me who can appreciate the organized chaos of the Wild West in a portrait space that is wilder than you have ever, ever seen.
I wish I could rewind time.
I fuckin' love this cocksucker of a show that much.
arizonasarah at 3:35 p.m.