Houston Astros (38-78) vs Chicago Cubs (44-69)

August 13-15, 2012
Wrigley Field

CHICAGO (SnS) – Just another road series for the 2012 Houston Astros, in their season-long day’s journey into night. The only notable thing about this one is that it is in Chicago, specifically on the north side.

I hate to say I’ll miss the FTCubs after this year; but I will, in a way. The Astros have other spirited and even bitter rivalries, but the FTCubs were always reserved a special place in hell by some of us, I think because of the unique combination of a mostly bullshit, lackluster franchise, and a spectacularly offensive and dumbass fan base.

SCHEDULE
Monday – 7:05 CDT (FSH)
Tuesday – 7:05 CDT (FSH)
Wednesday – 1:20 CDT (FSH, WGN)

One of the greatest eruptions ever of SnS anti-Cub bile came from Rebel Jew (nee Joey Trum) several seasons ago.  It was beautiful and very intricate. Me describing it would not do justice, so here’s an excerpt:

… loveable losers loveable losers loveable losers. there’s a certain personality flaw in certain people that just happens to be manifested in the concept of cub fan. it’s analogous to a recent article in the SF weekly about how retarted people are drawn to Huey Lewis and the News. there’s just something comforting about the cubs to certain personality-challenged individuals across our great nation. it’s not unlike the congregation of a joel osteen or that weird lady with the big hair, the cubs give the weak-willed among us a sense of empowerment. the cubs offer an excuse for the helpless idiocy demonstrated in the dumbfuck daily lives of so many. the cubs give an identity (even an outfit) to these people, a way of life through which they can feel special. the cubs offer an endlessly comforting message to its followers, “it’s okay if you’re an idiot. it’s alright if you’re a poser. we’re here to help you celebrate your meaninglessness. you may be a loser, but you’re loveable too.”

Go do a tour of the 2006 TZ Hall of Fame to read the rest of this masterpiece.

PROBABLE PITCHERS
Monday – Armondo Galarraga (0-2, 4.70) vs. Jeff “The Mullet” Samardzija (7-10, 4.21)
Tuesday – Lucas Harrell (9-8, 3.97) vs. Chris Volstad (0-8, 6.94)
Wednesday – Bud Norris (5-9, 4.93) vs. Justin Germano (1-2, 4.26)

Cubs series previews are always great place to find anti-Cubs venom, just about anytime.  Here are a few several selected poisonous posts:

Ron Brand (May 21, 2012)

I hate the Cubs.

I should clarify that. I hate what the Cubs represent, the personification of the culture that celebrates losing. You can see the result anytime you scan the stands of a Cub home game – the men, bald, flabby, weak, most of them drunk and boorishly stupid; their women are ugly, demihuman breeding stock for a legion of ineffectual fools whose purpose in life is to throw all their available money at a towering god who eternally mewls and coughs for more sacrifice with no hope of reward.

I hate the Cubs, and their insipid fans. The people who aren’t strong enough to want to win, who have abandoned all hope and entered the domain of Suck for Suck’s sake. Those who applaud at the barest hint of mediocrity, who celebrate the nearness of victory but would spit out its sweetness at first taste for the familiar bitterness of Loss and the comforting blanket of darkness it provides.

Craig

(September 16, 2011) But these guys are still the Astros and I’ll still root for them to bitch-slap the stupid fucking Cubs. Because no matter where you are in the pecking order, there are some constant truths. Number One being … Fuck the Cubs.

(June 4, 2010) Which brings me to my main point, which is fuck the Cubs. They’re five games under .500 and won’t be going anywhere this year.

(September 14, 2008) Of all the idiotic bullshit moves dreamed up by Bud Selig, this one takes the urinal cake. The fucking pussified Cubs, who were so stoically brave during a tornado and lightning storm when they were behind in a game, wouldn’t get on a goddamn plane to Houston. So Selig tells Drayton McLane, “Hey I know, let’s you and him fight. At my house. I’ll sell tickets.”

Now Cecil Cooper and the Astros, many of whom are still without electricity at their own homes, where, you know, they might be needed, have to travel to Bud’s shitty suburb of Chicago and play a crucial “home” series in front of two fanbases that have a huge interest in seeing the Astros lose.

Jane Doe (April 11, 2011)

What is the difference between Wrigley Field and a cactus?
With a cactus, all the pricks are on the outside.

GreatBagwellsBeard (July 27, 2009)

I haven’t been this torn about a subject since realizing the Scarlett isn’t a good actress as much as she is a good whisperer.  I love the city of Chicago almost as much as I hate the Cubs.  The fucking Cubs.  If they resided in a city that I despised (like Jacksonville), my hate would multiply and increase in power like motherfucking Voltron.  As is, I’ve spent plenty of time in Chicago (even visiting Wrigley once), and I find the people to be friendly, the weather pleasantly brisk, the restaurants fantastic, and it tops the list of cities to which I’d move if Harris County is finally swept out to sea by a God angry at us for tolerating Joel Osteen’s pseudo-Christian pap.  Still, I haven’t come to praise Chicago, but to bury the Cubs.

MRaup (June 8, 2009)

The Astros are starting to play some decent baseball. They’ve won a few series in a row, things are starting to look up as a few of the important bullpen parts are close to returning fairly soon, and there might just be a small light at the end of this early season tunnel… Or that light might just be the oncoming train full of drunken, shirtless cocksucker Cub fans on their way to Minute Maid to out-cheer, out-drunk, out-obnoxious, and out-asshole the Houston fans. It could be either one.

(July 18, 2008) … Hordes of Goddamn Cub fans all over Minute Maid Park, and me doing battle with every single one of the pasty faced douchebags that I hear chanting “Lets Go Cubbies” while slopping smuggled Old Style in a flask all over themselves …

(April 3, 2008) The Astros and Cubs are both slopping around at the bottom of the Central standings. Hopefully not a sign of things to come… Well, at least for the Astros. I hope the Cubs lose the rest of their games this year.

(September 11, 2007) The moral of this preview is… Fuck the Cubs.

Dark Star (May 18, 2008)

The Shit-head Cubbies – the favorite team of such luminaries as Warren Buffet, Bill Murray, Jim Belushi, Pat Sajak (I must say), and John Cusack, as well as George Will, Hillary Clinton, Dick Cheney, and many, many other similar nitwits, drunks, deluded freaks, and just plain losers …

(April 8, 2007) On Tuesday, the Puppies of North Chicago are giving away their version of a magnet schedule to the Wrigley faithful.  I’m not sure why.  The hard core Cub fans – which is to say the drunkest louts of all the drunken louts in the stands – don’t need a schedule.  They are pulled to the park, rain or shine, win or lose, by a force they cannot understand or explain; a primal force, the same sort of thing that sends salmon backwards up a spillway, brings the swallows back to Capistrano each spring, and compels the lemmings to go ahead and jump headfirst off the cliff, en masse.  All CubFan really needs is a big, square magnet he can stick on the ice box that says, “Every Fuckin’ Day!!”

Or, to quote the gifted soliloquist (and former Cub manager) Lee Elia, “Fuck those fuckin’ fans who come out here and say they’re Cub fans that are supposed to be behind you rippin’ every fuckin’ thing you do. . . The motherfuckers don’t even work. That’s why they’re out at the fuckin’ game. They oughta go out and get a fuckin’ job and find out what it’s like to go out and earn a fuckin’ living. Eighty-five percent of the fuckin’ world is working. The other fifteen percent come out here. A fuckin’ playground for the cocksuckers. . . ”

:sigh:  Greatness like that just doesn’t come along every day, folks.

Taras Bulba (August 31, 2007)

Chicago is a mediocre 5-5 over their last ten games but appear to be feeling their oats and spouting off a lot of cocky drivel about being in a pennant race, etc.  Perfect timing for the annual summer rite whereby the hopes and dreams of pathetic Cubs fans everywhere are brutally eviscerated by that mean ass son of a bitch, the God of Baseball, in the guise in the next three days of your Houston Astros.  It’s coming a little late in the season, but nevertheless, it’s here.  Allah, akhbar!

INJURIES
Houston
Chicago

One of my proudest achievements ever at AC/OWA/SnS was inspired by the FTCubs, back when the whole Fuck The Cubs thing was in its fullest flower.  I wrote a take off of T.S. Eliot’s Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, sometime late in the 2004 season.  I called it the The Love Song of John Q. Cubfan and, though it is highly topical, I still have a fondness for it.

This was the season after the Cubs (and Steve Bartman) folded up against the Marlins in the NLCS.  In 2004, the Cards had taken over 1^st place in the Central in early June, and led the rest of the way. The Astros and Cubs battled neck and neck for 2^nd place and what would be the Wild Card slot. Then there was an infamous 4-game series in late August at Wrigley.  By that time, the FTCubs were still in 2^nd, but fading (and panicking), while the Astros, among others, were making a charge at them. The Cubs won the first game of the series without incident, but the Astros came back and stomped the Cubs 15-7 the next day. The Astros hit 5 HRs that game, and Lance Berkman and Roy Oswalt were hit by pitches, in retalition. The Astros won a close one on Saturday (Clemens beating Zambrano), more or less without incident. They won again on Sunday, 10-3 … by then the Cubs’ and manager Dusty Baker’s frustrations were showing, and a beanball war of sorts ensued.  The highlights were Astros rookie reliever Dan Wheeler dotting the Cubs Derek Lee, and Cub reliever Mike Remlinger throwing at Berkman’s head, which emptied the benches. And so on. The Astros eventually left the Cubs in the dust that year, and won the Wild Card.

Anyway, it was against this backdrop that I composed the poem/parody.

The Love Song of John Q. Cubfan

Vous pouvez connerie le boulanger
Et obtenir les brioches
Que vous pouvez soutenir de chaque affaire
Excepté une

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a Cub fan drunk and passed out in his seat;
Let us go, through certain Wrigleyville streets,
The muttering retreats
Of idiots who believe they’re cursed by goats
Who drink old fashioned beer that tastes like oats:
Streets that follow like a tedious interview
Of a whiny manager with a fucked-up world-view
That leads to an overwhelming question. . .
Oh, do not ask, “What the hell?”
Let us head for Wrigley on the El.

In the stands the vendors come and go
Selling their swill for six bucks a go.

The yellow journalists who just can’t rant enough
The yellow piss that makes the hands so tough
Get mixed together on some lost afternoon
When Sammy the rightfielder, who is a buffoon
Hops around like a bunny at the sight of a long, lazy drive
And gets gunned down at second by four feet or five,
And sensing another sign of the gods’ disdain
We order up another nasty brew to drain.

And indeed there will be time
For the wild card lead to disappear,
Onrushing giants and spacemen getting near;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare to face the nagging fear;
There will be time to whine and moan,
For the umpires to conspire, the announcers to berate
As after another loss we head for home;
Time for beanballs and ejections,
Time for the sunshine to wear out the whiteys,
And time for Steve Stone to call us un-mighty,
As pointless as a lonely, Viagra-fueled erection.

In the stands the vendors come and go
They sell that shit for six bucks, you know?

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “What the fuck?” and “What the fuck?”
Is it The Curse? Is it lousy luck?
Or just that our bullpen really sucks?
[They will say, “Your bullpen blows.”]
Borowski’s hurt, so the one we chose
LaTroy, to come in late and close
[They will say, “You cut off your face to spite your nose!”]
Do we dare
Take the Almighty’s name in vain?
In a minute there is time
To curse a blue streak, and go down in flames.

For we have known them all, already, known them all: —
Have known the games pissed away by errors, wind-borne flies, blown saves,
We have measured out our lives by the games we gave away;
We have lost must-win games to chumps, and have been appalled.
From the second deck falls a chunk of concrete, about half a ton
Should I try and run under one?

And we have known the indignities, already, know them all —
Beat out by a team in McDonald’s uniforms back in ’84,
Or ’89 Will Clark went all Babe Ruth on us (“It’s gone! It’s gone!”)
And how could we forget Brant Brown (Brant Brown?!) dropping that fly ball?
What the hell is going on?
Cincinnati (Cincinnati?!) beats us three of four
Should I go and get a gun?

And we know how this ends, already; we must remember –
Confident in a solid lead held almost up to the end,
[“Oh, don’t be silly!” they say, as the inevitable descends]
How will it be this time? Like the ’69 Mets?
Another incredible mind-fuck we will never forget?
Our hopes as dead as the ivy in November.
Could I sneak a knife in, nice and neat
Commit Harry Caray right in my seat?
. . . . .

When Ruth stood pointing out to Waveland Ave., was he really calling his shot?
Or just showing us the way to the exits, saying,
“This thing’s all over, boys; why’n’t you just head on home?”

I should have been a ragged old glove
Scuttling across the floors of silent dugouts
. . . . .

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
As smoothed by several rounds
Asleep…tired…slowing down,
Stretched out on the bar next to my ratty blue cap with the “C”.
Should I, after another shot ‘n’ a beer
Have the strength to walk on out of here?
But though I have wept and fasted, blown up balls and genuflected,
Though I have longed to see Dusty’s head [the stupid toothpick in its mouth] brought in upon a platter,
Truth is, I can’t do shit—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of our greatness flicker,
And I have seen the Base Ball Gods shake their heads, and snicker,
And in short, I’ve seen my own impotence reflected.

And was it all worth it, after all,
After elimination, the acrimony, the accusations,
Bitter doubt entering our conversations?
Was it worth raising the payroll to $100 million
Just to bring the types of players with the skills in
When one skill is not holding onto the fucking ball?
The skill to wear sunglasses and still not see,
The can of corn come wafting out,
While our pitcher grins on the mound with glee,
Saying, “I know you’ll catch that ball.”
“I know you’ll catch that fucking ball!”

And was it all worth it, after all,
Worth all the money, care, and time spent,
Putting together a team which only wasted all its promise?
Which would rather initiate, and then retaliate, than win the game –
Rather kick a wall and get a knee sprain –
And get 15 days on the DL,
While the whole season goes to hell.
Was it worth it, all the discontent?
When, with our backs up against the wall,
Against the lowly Redlegs and the Braves,
They say, “You lost them all.”
“You lost them all!”
. . . . .

No, we are not championship material, nor were meant to be,
We are lovable losers, lots of fun,
Someone to get well against, if you’ve been on a bad run,
Come to the ballpark, the ‘Taj Mahal’, and get drunk out in the sun.
We’ve got great starters, but our bullpen sucks,
Our offense has its moments, but is full of holes,
And just when you think they give a fuck,
They blow a lead and lose control,
And the whole damn season comes undone.

We can’t take it. . . we can’t take it. . .
When our Sammy starts to jake it,

Shall we keep our hopes alive? Shall we go into the breech?
We shall play the Reds at home, and watch their offense be unleashed.
I have heard the fat ladies singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing for me.

We have seen them at night wearing too-tight slacks
Stumbling out of the bars in Lincoln Park
Looking for their SUV’s double-parked.

We have lingered in the dream world of fantasy
Sustained by our collective hysteria, and a whole lot of booze
‘Til reality sets in, and we lose and lose

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Astros lose the series, 0-3.

Follow the action in the Game Zone

(August 6 -9, 2012)

by Foghorn

NOTICE–Persons attempting to find a motive in this Series Preview will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.

Introductory Nonsense
Longtime Houstonians may remember this.  Back in the late 70’s and early-to-mid 80’s, Houston had 2 rock stations on the radio—KLOL 101.1 and KSRR 97 Rock FM.  The #1 morning show was Moby and Matthews on 97 Rock.  This would have been from about 81-85, if a quick internet search is to be believed. Moby either moved to Dallas when the station became top 40, or he moved to Dallas, the ratings tanked, and the station switched formats.  I don’t recall.  Anyway, Houston was down to 1 rock station by 1988 when KLOL announced that Moby was coming back to Houston radio, this time in the afternoon.  KLOL had Stevens & Pruitt in the morning, with Dana Steele in the mid day, leading up to Moby coming back at 3:00.  16 year old Foghorn was stoked!!!

They had a contest before he came back.  Guess what song he would play first and you could win a trip to Hawaii.  Hell, that easy.  I recalled he was a fan of Aerosmith and what better song than “Back in the Saddle”.  So I submitted an entry and eagerly awaited his first day back.  Sure enough, he played “Back in the Saddle”.  Visions of Hawaii danced in my head (hot hula chicks in grass skirts!!!  16-year old Foghorn had wild imaginations about what would happen in the islands).  Turned out, about 1500 people submitted “Back in the Saddle” and I didn’t get dick.

Well, now its my turn to make a triumphant (ha!) return to the Series Preview and to Spikes and Stars in general.  It only seems fitting that we crank up a little “Back in the Saddle” to get things going.  Actually, scratch that.  Seems that over the past 10 years or so I have lost all affinity for anything Steven Tyler or Aerosmith related.  Can’t stand any of their songs.  Wouldn’t waste a squirt of piss if they were on fire standing next to me.  Actually find myself feeling that way with a lot of the old KSRR and KLOL bands.  Van Halen….fuck ‘em.  Hagar.  Roth.  Cherone.  Fuck every one of them.  Only song I can half way stomach from them is Unchained.  Ozzy? Wish the bat he chewed on had rabies and killed the fucker at the height of his popularity.  He and his worthless family helped usher in this reality tv crap.  His last good CD was Diary of a Mad Man.  That was 30 years ago.  Rush…respect the musicianship but hate the music.  I’d rather listen to the sound of my testicles getting punctured than hear Geddy Lee try to hit the high notes in Closer to the Heart.

However, there is one late 70’s/early 80’s rock band I still like and still listen to.  And wouldn’t you know, one of there songs is appropriate for this Series Preview.  So…let’s begin.  {Cue to the muffled rhythmic guitar intro…6 times, then pause for 2 beats….then start the famous intro…}

Back in black
I hit the sack
I’ve been gone too long I’m glad to be back
Yes I’m, let loose
From the noose
That’s kept me hanging about
I keep looking at the sky
Cause its getting me high
Forget the hearse cause I never die
I got…9 lives
Cat’s eys
Using every one cause I’m running wild

And I’m back (x4)
Back in Black
Yes I’m Back in Black

What’s up Astros Fans?  How does a 2nd straight year of sucking feel?  Actually, it feels damn sweet.  I love this year.  I’ve enjoyed this season more than just about any season in a long time.  Why?  Because Drayton McNeck is gone.  Jesus H Christ, praise the lord!!!!

Now that The Grocer is long gone, things can start turning around.  Though he did manage to stick it in up our back side one last time, leaving us with a shitty team, a shitty farm system, and a move to the fuckin’ AL.  What a cock suck.  Worse than John McMullen!!!  Yeah, I said it.  Lemme say it again.

WORSE THAN JOHN MCMULLEN!!!!!

Someone had to say it.  Don’t care about the record or any of the playoff successes.  Fuck that.  Someone else did the hard work…he got the glory.  He rode the coat tails of work done prior to his buying the team.  Astros acquired Bagwell and Biggio before his time, and they were the heart of our championship teams.  The cock sucker didn’t want to spend the money to sign Berkman outta Rice.  The Hun had to talk him into it.  Venezuela Academy…started before McNeck.  Harris County voters built him a stadium and gave him a sweetheart lease.

So as a brief parting shot to Drayton McLane, let me just say this (channeling the great David Naughton from Hot Dog…the Movie):

“Hey Drayton!  You can kiss my ass.  Not on zis side, or on zhat side, but right in zee middle!”

Now that we’re done with the pleasantries, let’s make our way to….

What’s on tap?
Coming off a weekend trip in Atlanta, where apparently the video board guy got a little jab in on the Astros (per a Levine tweet, something about “can’t spell Disastrous without Astro” or something).  The boys may be thirsty in Atlanta, and there is beer in Texarkana, but those chodes can drink fuckin’ Billy Beer for all I care.  Not going to miss playing those assholes on a yearly basis.  Will really miss the loser Brave fans who used to show up at the Dome/MMPUS.  I’ll miss those fuckers like I’d miss jock itch, my first kidney stone, and Mama’s Family.  Unfortunately, they’ll be replaced with Yankee and Red Sox fans.  Guido, the Mooch, Sully and Murph.  Not even a better class of asshole.  Can’t.  Fuckin’.  Wait.

The NL East leading Nationals are in town for 4 games.  As always, Astros.com has all the news you need to know.  Here’s the link

Astros.com Series Preview

What intrigues me about he Nationals is how lucky they’ve been.  They managed to have the worst teams at the exact right time.  They suck real bad and they get the #1 overall pick.  Just so happens the greatest college pitcher since…forever…was available.  Stephen Strausburg…come on down.  Suck ass again, and get the #1 overall pick for a second time.  Just so happens the greatest high school hitter since…forever…was available.  Bryce Harper…come on down.

Compare that to the Astros.  Carlos Correa and (presumably) Mark Appel.  Its not just sucking really bad, its sucking really bad at the exact right time.  When/if the Nationals ever do something worth a shit, remember that luck had as much to do with it than anything else.  Taking nothing away from the other good players they’ve developed (Zimmerman and Zimmerman) or traded for (Gio Gonzales) but when in about 10 years when we look back at the Nationals, Harper and Strausburg are going to be their version of Bagwell/Biggio.

Hey, Houston area fans.  School is about to start up.  Football season is about to start up.  Attendance is only going to get worse from here on in.  Let’s all try to get to at least one more game this year.  Not as a group, just you and your friends/family.  Let’s get our asses in the stadium, buy a couple of beers, and let Jim Crane know we understand the situation.  We’ll take our lumps.  We’ll take the move to the AL.  Because one day, our youngsters will hit their prime, and when we’re one player away and need Crane to open his checkbook, I want him to remember we supported him when we had a middle of the road AAA team for 2 years.  MMPUS is still a fine place to watch a game, even though they have something against silence.  Do we really need some noise and stupid tom foolery between every innings or pitching changes?  Sometimes, less is more.  Let us enjoy the sounds of the ball park.

How Foghorn spent the 2012 Season
Absolutely love www.milb.com.  Can’t live without it.  Before going to bed each night, I do a quick check of how the kids in the minors are doing.  Check out Corpus to see what Singleton is up to.  Lancaster has George Springer and (as I was pleasantly surprised to see) Domingo Santana who is having a great season.  Lexington?  Can probably count on seeing Delino DeShields Jr. stealing a base or two.  He’s having a strong season.  Love, love, love it.  And once he signed, I have enjoyed looking at Nolan Fontana’s progression.  Anytime you are rocking an OBP near .500, you got my attention.

I never had a clear understanding of Short Season A Ball or the Rookie Leagues, until this year.  Tri City has been awesome, with likely League MVP Andrew Alpin leading the league in both OPS and SBs.  Several pitchers there have crazy K/BB ratios to go along with solid ERA and WHIP numbers.  Greenville has been the D’andre Toney watch for me.  Was hoping to see a bit more from him in 2012, but given that we only gave up Quintero and Burgois, how good could he be?  And the GCL Astros with McCuellars (now at Greenville), Ruiz, and Correa?  Am always excited to check out those box scores.  Question for the group—I take in the GCL doesn’t play games on Sundays?  Why not?

Anyway, I became a more knowledgeable fan this year.  Had to bone up on the rules of the draft.  Had to learn the minor leagues.  Had to put in some time on the ‘net searching things out.  But I’m a better fan for it.

All in all….I had a pretty fun year in 2012.

What’s on Foggy’s mind
(1)  So, have you heard about the porn stars in Miami giving away free blow jobs?  A couple of Miami-based valtrex-laced skanks said that if the Heat win the NBA title, they’d give away a ton of free hummers to anyone who would show up (provided they bring along an STD test, wear a condom, and agree to be filmed for the DVD that is soon to be released).  #TeamBJ for you folks on Twitter.  Seriously.  Un-freaking-believable.

There are a couple of pole dancers who will do the same thing here in Houston if the Astros win 5 more road games this season.

(2)  We are living in the golden age of television right now.  In particular, television drama.  Mad Men, Breaking Bad, Justified, Game of Thrones, Boardwalk Empire, Homeland.  All kick much, much ass.  I can’t put into words how much I love Mad Men.  The writing on that show is stunning.  Matthew Weiner is up there with Aaron Sorkin (loved the Social Network script, and Sports Night and early West Wing were awesome) and the Davids (Milch, Simon, and Chase) as the best television writers of all time.

In fact, I would argue that for the most part, television is better than film these days.  Yes, I am excited to see Daniel Day Lewis in Spielberg’s Abraham Lincoln and Paul Thomas Anderson’s The Master looks awesome.  But the amount of depth that the tv shows can go into that the movies can’t.  I loved the Battle of Helm’s Deep in The Two Towers but the Battle of Blackwater in Game of Thrones was just as much to watch.

For the record, I’ve done my best not to litter Game of Thrones quotes throughout this entire review.  No “Winter is Coming”.  No “I will take my crown.  I will pay the iron price”.  No “stick them with the pointy end”.  Not even “a Lannister pays his debts”.

Have to say that while Tyrion has most of the best lines, my favorite character is probably Arya (Arry/Weasel/Cat/whatever 50 other names she goes by).  SPOILER FOR THOSE WHO HAVE ONLY SEEN THE TV SHOW AND NOT READ THE BOOKS.  I am trying to figure out how she rejoins the main narrative.  I’m assuming she will be sent to assassinate someone.  I also imagine she’ll meet up again with Jaquen H’ghar at some point.  Have always felt that she is the one who needs to kill Littlefinger, as he is one of the main instigators of the entire war(s).  Arya kills Littlefinger and reconciles with Sansa before returning to the House of Black and White awaiting her next job.

(3)  The Olympics are on.  I’ll watch swimming.  I’ll watch Usain Bolt.  But I have no desire to watch the Dream Team 2012.  No desire to watch the gymnastics.  Can’t say I would watch a round of boxing, though it would be interesting to watch a guy get knocked down 6 times in a fight and still be declared the winner.  Amateur athletics is rotten to the core.

Well, that’s about it for me.  Thanks to Dark Star for reaching out to me.  This Series Preview isn’t coming together as I had hoped, but its been fun for me to write.  Hope you enjoyed it as well.  I held back on the f bombs, and I don’t think I called anyone a Mother Fucker.  I reckon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because they are going to try an sivilize me and I can’t stand it.  I been there before.