Ian McShane knew what he was talking about when he made that quote about GOT – though we’ve yet to see a topless Khaleesi actually riding a dragon – but one can always hope. But as all of us fans without a life know, Westeros is so much more than boobs and beasts, especially in Season 6. Here are my ramblings so far on the penultimate season…
They seriously need to stop killing Dire Wolves. I mean, come on! Every three episodes, another Dire Wolf is butchered by some villainous asshole. Rickon Stark – who is barely a character, and whose accent sounds like they found him in a Guy Ritchie movie – is onscreen for about twenty seconds before Ramsey Bolton announces he killed Shaggy Dog. Which makes no sense! Ramsey loves dogs! And wolves are bad-ass dogs, and Dire Wolves are the kings of badass. He NEVER would have just killed a Dire Wolf. The nut job’s whole MO is to break things. Train them to kill for him. And a Dire Wolf can pretty much take down anything. Ramsey’d feed half of Winterfell to Shaggy Dog. Ramsey’s #4 hobby after Wednesday night mahjong is feeding people to his hounds. But no. The writers just can’t stop killing the wolves. They must be cat people. Jon Snow needs to get some serious life insurance for Ghost.
Bran time/dream traveling with Max Von Sidow is getting seriously creepy. And you do understand that we’re only seeing a glimpse of who they spy on. Think about it. A teenage boy and a dirty old man – able to go and see anything, without being seen. You know they’ve visited Khaleesi on the toilet. A lot. At least that’s what I’d do.
The High Sparrow doesn’t wear underwear. I get the vow of poverty, Mr. High Sparrow, but nobody wants to see your old man balls. I feel terrible for poor Queen Margaery. It’s bad enough she was married to a gay guy, and now a wimpy kid – but spending every day with a 75 year old man wearing a blanket is asking too much of the literally ageless actress. And yes, I’m implying that Natalie Dormer is a vampire. Or Natalie Dormer’s daughter, piggybacking on Mom’s career. Think about it.
I know it’s not manly, but I’m a big fan of Sansa’s fur mantles. Nobody rocks the winter look better than newly freed Sansa Stark/Lannister/Bolton. Blue and silver are definitely her goto fur mantle colors, given the ginger hair, but she also does good jet black, as we saw when she was playing Lady Macbeth with Little Finger up in the Aerie. I think Sansa could do white fur mantle as well, but given the daily bloodshed in her schedule, probably not the smartest choice. She should avoid orange fur mantles, but that’s just common sense.
We’ve seen the Night King before. In lots of movies and shows. Pretty sure he was a blue alien on Star Trek: The Next Generation. I definitely saw him in the Lord of the Rings, playing a cold Orc. Also did a stint on Shannara as an ice Demon. For those of you wondering, the Night King is played by Dame Judy Dench. And it’s not a mask.
The Onion Knight is a terrible Advisor. Let’s go through his CV. Advised King Stannis. Result: beheaded by giant blonde woman. Advised Princess Shireen Baratheon. Result: leading role in a bonfire. Advised Jon Stark: murdered by own men. Advised Jeb Bush. Result: Trump. Take your stinky onions and get the hell out of here, Sir Davros!
I’m relieved that Theon Greyjoy is drinking again. The poor bastard lost his dignity, his name and his ding dong. When I found out he’d also kicked the booze, I was very upset. Drinking is precisely what you do when the chips are down. I’ve never encountered a problem that couldn’t be erased from my mind with vodka. So, pour yourself some grog, Theon, and watch your big Sister scissor some whores. You’ve earned it!
The Red Woman has fantastic breasts for her age. I know there was the initial “EWW” factor when Melisandre took off her necklace, and suddenly turned into a pale 200 year-old naked hag. But… the boobs. They were firm. Even perky. You saw it. I saw it. We liked. Meow.
Tyrion needs a dragon. He’s earned it. His whole life, looked down on by everyone. Mocked by friends, family, even worthless peasants. But put Dinklage on the back of a fire breathing Wyrm, and look out haters. That’s right. You be dealing with a Dwarf on a Dragon, bitches. And yes, the dragon can be a large hawk. Or even a Rooster. Though I don’t think Rooster’s really can fly. They sorta fly/hop, though I have no clue, as I detest farms.
A girl has no storyline. As cool as the Jaqen H’guar’s song is, this plot-line of Arya endlessly trying to join an assassin cult where they give dead people bathes is as tedious as Jeb Bush explaining to Barbara Bush why Hamilton is a hit. “It’s Alexander Hamilton from the Revolution, but he’s black and raps. No, for the fifth time, he’s not a slave, Mother!” Can we please stop wasting a third of every episode with Arya and her bad hair in Bravos. Arya, just tell the weirdo you have no name and move on. We know you’re gonna kill Cersei and Walder with your tiny sword. The girl will get revenge!
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