If ever there was an occasion to bleach my eyeballs, it was last night.
Michael Ende created The Never-Ending Story. George R.R. Martin created The Never-Ending Poop Scene. My God, could last night’s premiere episode of HBO’s “Game of Thrones” been any more painful to watch?* After the first 15 comparisons between the bedpans filled with runny poop and the slop food, I felt that the viewer more than “got the message.” Beyond that, it felt like I had sprained an ankle and someone was pressing their boot down as hard as they could, for as long as they could, into my injury. Only the never-ending puke scene from Monty Python’s Meaning of Life approached that level of ad nauseam.
*I thought the rest of last night’s episode was really solid (unlike what was in those bedpans), especially the exchange between the redheaded wilding, who is my Groundskeeper Willie fantasy in human form, and Breanne.
I think it would be brilliant for the actor who plays Sam–who will surely be on the convention circuit signing autographs any moment–to wear this shirt commemorating last evening’s shit show: