Editor’s Note: “The Eye of Newb” contains spoilers from the episode listed. If you have not watched the episode written about, you have been warned. But as Matt has not read the books (as of yet), you do not have to worry about future spoilers.
Listen closely, Friends… hear that gentle shuffling scrape barely discernible above the pounding rage in yours ears? Yeah. That. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh… that would be the Newb’s forehead brushing the floor as he sways, repentant, nay penitent, groveling before Your kindness and gentle mercy. Before that oil-sheened blade of Yours meets the base of my medulla oblongata with a satisfying, yet coolly lethal crunch, I plead with you, Dear Readers… perhaps Reader by this point… hear my plea!
A paper intervened. A 20-page monster, in fact. Big, hairy monster. With fangs and talons, and a 50% impact on my final grade.
An old friend came in from out of town?
My suit was at the cleaners?
A terrible plague? Locusts?!
Crap. How about a heartfelt ‘I’m sorry’? Thank you, Sweet Intercessors! I will write for Thee, and in abundance…
All kidding and pretense firmly aside, the Newb extends his humble apologies for the substantial delay in posting the column. i had to dive into some obscure books and mount a case revolving around French anarchism and origins of a school of thought. it was immensely fun and enriching, but demanded substantially more time than i thought it would when i began. You, Good People suffered for that loss of time. but now I offer you my amends in the form of a three-episode super cobo pack of snakry derision, thorough confusion and other horrors too numerous to name. Get some tea, or perhaps something stronger. make sure you can reach the toilet paper, depending on where you choose to partake. You’ll be here a while.
The Eye of Newb: Game of Thrones (HBO) Season 2 Episode 3: “What is Dead May Never Die”
By: Matt Lynch
“Every man who has tasted my cooking has told me what a good whore I am.” – Shae
Part the First, wherein the Black is sent packing and Jon Snow finally proves he’s human – unless the undead bleed in Westeros.
- Old Craster seems a might peeved that his nighttime Yeti feeding was observed, and Lord Mormont equally so that Jon went and dropped his sword again.
- Oh, dear me… the moon-faced git has truly fallen hard for Gilly the Sister Wife. He’s handing out his dear Mum’s jewelry now. Those two might just make some ugly kids one day.
Part the Second, wherein incessant off-camera panting reigns, and Bran is informed that he’s not so special after all and may just need better drugs.
- What is it with Bran and freaky animist dreams? I really wish that these little vignettes would be, oh, I dunno, maybe explained somehow.
- The old Maester reminds very much of Terrence Stamp, which makes me think of The Limey. I liked that movie. A lot. Oh wait, the show’s still on…
- Apparently Westeros don’t need no stinkin’ magic, and Bran should just get the silly notion that any exists out of his head. Okay, sure. That explains the live dragons.
Part the Third, wherein we meet Brienne, the first truly interesting non-Imply character in months, and dueling redheads steal the show.
- Ser Loras got smoked. And not in the good, tender, loving way, either.
- Damn! That is a formidable and frightening woman. I like her already.
- So, now Renly’s got himself his own Dog, or Bitch, or something. Brienne is one hell of a bodyguard, that’s for sure.
- Cat can’t catch a break. Loras mocks her, the “queen” disdains her, and Renly treats her like a much dumber woman than she is.
- Oh Gawdamighty! Winter again?! Somebody put these people in touch with a decent meteorologist for the love of all that’s holy – well, that and for my sanity.
- On the upside, I like Brienne even more watching her scoff at any feminine title. She promises to be a storyline worth following.
Part the Fourth, wherein high and mighty Ego King gets insolent. and pissy…. again, and is given a commission worthy of his stature.
- I’m not kidding. That is one wicked-ass fireplace.
- Ah, the love of siblings long separated.
- But Daddy… but, but, you never loved me… you gave me away. Someone please slap Theon again, please? The flat smacking against his scruffy little cheek does my heart good.
Part the Fifth, wherein Impness finally lends some worth to the broadcast, and Shay brags about her domestic skills.
- Shae’s going a little stir crazy. Poor thing.
- Tyrion as a protective lover? Now that’s a new twist.
- That scene was way too short. I only hope for more Imp to come.
Part the Sixth, wherein Sansa projects that special desolate fealty of which only she is capable, and gets a new stylist in the bargain.
- I don’t know the actress who plays Sansa, but I’m pretty sure that if she keeps up this revealing emotion without words bit for the entire season, she may deserve an award as nice as Peter Dinklage’s.
- I’d lay a fair wager that Cersei is bereft of a conscience.
- Hmmm… Shae will be serving as Sansa’s handmaiden. Well played, Tyrion. Well played.
- Uh-oh, loads of suppressed rage pilling forth from poor Sansa, all with such a fragile edge of loneliness.
Part the Seventh, wherein the Imp hatches a bit of skulduggery, and we learn that even in Westeros, they still sell Milk of Magnesia.
- Tyrion is on a spy-hunt. What a glorious game of ‘Who’s the Rat?’ My money’s on Littllefinger.
- Can I also say that watching the interplay between between the Imp and Baelish is the most fun I’ve had all night? This means not only that both Aidan Gillen and Dinklage are superb actors, but also that there hasn’t been nearly enough killing going on.
- Baelish is beginning to see that he actually has a worthy adversary in the Imp. This does not bode well for Tyrion. That Baelish is a slippery bastard.
Part the Eighth, wherein we witness a heaping pile of uncomfortable man-love, and we learn that by the yardstick of royal bedchamber behavior, maybe the Lannisters aren’t the most twisted after all.
- Eeesh. I’m an enlightened, open-minded modern man of he world and all, but I really didn’t need, well, pretty much all of that.
- Apparently, Loras is a little pouty about the whole “Brienne of the Kingsguard” deal. Guess we know who the wife is.
- Things are looking up, based solely on the new boudoir companion and her choice in vestments, but this has got to be the most awkward love scene ever.
- Ha! Only a confirmed gay king would open the pillow talk to his fetching bride with “Love your gown.” Just saying’.
- Shut up and kiss her, Renly. That’s how this dance goes.
- Gah! Did she just say that it’s perfectly alright for her brother to come in and help? Okay, really, this scene is like the Ving Rhames basement scene in Pulp Fiction. It cannot end fast enough.
Part the Ninth, wherein Cersei (yes!) feels pain.
- Tyrion tries desperately to explain the world of entangling alliances to his cruel sister, and she just goes all “I’ll rip up your little piece of paper, too” on him. Stay classy, Cersei.
Part the Tenth, wherein Ego-boy finally picks a side, and another bizarre seaside ritual unfolds.
- Careful with that candle, Theon. You might singe your classic Shaggy van dyke.
- The Drowned God, now?! How many freakin’ gods are there in Westeros? By my count we’re somewhere around twelve now – in a landmass that seems to be roughly the size of Connecticut. I’m gonna need like a flowchart or something before all this is over, aren’t I?
Part the Eleventh, wherein someone finally gets away with calling Tyrion a dwarf, and the Imp unearths a mole.
- Bronn is awesome.
- Pycelle is a rat of high quality. He turned on Varys faster than Eagles fans turned on Ricky Watters.
- What’s with the beard? think I’m missing something again.
- Off to jail goes the Maester, as Tyrion shows the kind heart hiding beneath that small and deceitful chest of his.
Part the Twelfth, wherein a Spider and an Imp imbibe, and the runner-up line of the night is spoken.
- Yeah, yeah, Varys, a priest a rabbi and a sherpa walk into a pedicure joint… your point?
- “Power resides where men believe it resides.” So true, that. Varys is like an incessantly prattling Silent Bob.
Part the Ultimate: Alas poor Yoren. We knew him well. He was a crafty old bastard who was good with a blade.
- Wow, so a march to the wall feels a lot like a cub scout campout. Dead-tired boys snoring everywhere.
- Oh, no… I feel very bad about Yoren chances. My experience with this series is that a big, heart-warming and connective reveal like the speech about killing Willem is a sure harbinger of death.
- Yep. There it is. Dammit. I liked Yoren.
- Funny how poorly all these supposed gutter rats run from a fight and can’t seem to obey warnings, isn’t it? Just like their leader.
- That crossbow scene was flat-out awesome. More like that, please.
- Hmmm. So Arya saved Jaqen’s life. That feels significant somehow. We’re down a Yoren, but have gained a Jaqen. Fair trade.
- Oh, crap. Arya’s lot just keeps getting worse. Now she’s in Lannister hands. At least Gendry’s safe now. Poor blonde kid. The penalty for stealing the wrong helmet is death, fool.
Okay, so better than last week, and the introduction of at least two new characters with promise will keep me in for next.