Blech Ending

I’ve never loved the Sopranos as much as everybody else. Oh I liked it a lot, faithfully watched etc, but I was never convinced it was the greatest thing since ground chuck. It wasn’t even the best drama of the last ten years, I liked “The West Wing” more, even if it didn’t have strippers. Speaking of which, don’t get me started that in 86 episodes we saw NO titties from Meadow (tho apparently her entire role this season was to float through her parent’s room and say “AJ’s sad!” and leave, never to be seen again.) And as much as we were supposed to fear/revere these guys, mostly it was a bunch of kinda-idiots running around and into each other hoping Tony would throw them a card game to run. So I started resenting the last few months of being POUNDED with “Big finale!! It’s gonna change your life!!” Few weeks ago it dawned on me and I KNEW it was gonna end with basically nothing happening. I knew dude would out-clever himself and he did. Yes, I know I’m a knuckle-dragging troglodyte for wanting something to happen. Anything. Doesn’t have to be bloody even. I know, unlike my buddies who have already screamed at me, I just don’t “get it.” I have a nagging suspicion that anyone who is gonna claim this ending is "brilliant!" "genius!" is secretly disappointed/flummoxed but wants to be the one who "gets it" over the guy who wanted something to actually happen, since, you know, IT’S A TV SHOW. It was just a little too self-conscious for me. Too ironic, too perversely Chase being influenced by what the audience would not expect rather than anything else, leaving it to the show's apologists to scramble for meaning and defense. Like Elisabeth Hasselbeck whenever Bush does something stupid like choking on a pretzel, or desperately trying to hurl us to Armageddon so the Rapture will occur on his watch and he can sit at the Big Table Upstairs with God and the guy that came up with “Snakes on a Plane!”

And I know, I’m supposed to get up and applaud the non-ending as a symbol of life plodding on, as some sort of existentialism. Camon. It’s only a tv show. If its whole point was "life goes on, sometimes nothing happens" blah blah blah why not turn off the set and just stare into space? Or get a tub of Country Crock, rub it all over your naked body and then crawl under bed with the lights out? 90% of the people who watched it liked the show cause of the shit that happened; not for those long 5-episode stretches where nothing happened so they can conjure up hidden meanings in everything/applaud the irony of nothing happening. It’s like the song by Todd Snider about the band that got huge for refusing to play songs they hadn’t written. The fact is we stare at tv to be entertained; any thoughts of it being more in lieu of entertaining are silly. It’s only a tv show. If I need the television to give my brain a workout on the nothingness of the spheres, maybe I’m an idiot. Or, even worse, a Baptist.

And now thanks to the blank screen ending, we’re supposed to come up with what happened ourselves. Great. Why not just leave the screen black for an hour and say "screw it, you do your own episode in your mind"? They’ve already got me bagging my own groceries at the store, now I gotta fucking make up my own tv shows too? Next thing you know I’ll be forced to masturbate!

So a crappy ending to a pretty great yet still overrated show. I won’t really miss it. I won’t miss the offensively long waits between seasons, and I won’t miss listening to full-of-shit women mewl “gee, I don’t know what it is about Gandolfini, he’s just soooo SEXY!” ummmm...MAYBE it’s cause he’s, I dunno, rich and famous? Hmm. I promise you if an exact replica of him sidled up next to you at the bar and tried to chat you up, you’d say “take your caricatured child’s accent, and your sweat-stained man-titties and get the fuck outta here.”

Country Crock and man-titties. I’m back!!!!