The Wire Appreciation No. 2378 (8732)

To paraphrase Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes by way of Simply Red via KRS-ONE, "If you don't know me by now I doubt you'll ever know me," because, girl, I ain't hard to figure out. After a day's work

("work," work)

I enjoy unwinding with a cold beer or ten, a few

(dozen)

Dunhills, and some entertainment, whether it be passive (watching OnStyle on the teevee) or active (reading, writing, committing moral sins in the form of masturbating and considering ordering paperbacks from Amazon that have Oprah's Book Club's logo on their front covers). Since the beginning of June, as my most constant of Constant Retards -- Kmart, my mother -- know, I've been rewatching The Wire in its entirety, occasionally posting my praise (and one time my scorn) here on this hallowed blog,

(Write That on My Epitaph)

Psychedelic Kimchi. And I've been doing so -- as I live my life, as I sin against God when I tug my wiener -- for my own gratification. I'm not here to solicit fans of the show or to convert the ignorant/unaware. No; this is me, holding a cool glass, smoking a square, and praying to my god. Your god may be The Sopranos. Your god may be Lost. Hell, your god might even be Desperate Housewives. I won't try to sway you regardless. Won't try to take you into my fold.

I can, however, point out that while taste is a matter of personal opinion, it doesn't mean your opinion is correct. To quote Roger Ebert:

I am fond of the story I tell about Gene Siskel. When a so-called film critic defended a questionable review by saying, "after all, it's opinion," Gene told him: "There is a point when a personal opinion shades off into an error of fact. When you say 'The Valachi Papers' is a better film than 'The Godfather,' you are wrong."

Which is a roundabout way for me to say that no show is greater than The Wire.

Sure, your god may be righteous. Your god might speak to the people, a lot of people at best, some people at least. But you are worshiping a false prophet, sir or madam. Again, I'm not trying to convert you; I'm not trying to sound elitist. I'm just stating a fact. I do that from time to time.

"Late Editions," the penultimate episode of The Wire, is the best episode of the series. That is opinion, because, like naming your favorite eat after a night on the piss -- shawarma, a BK bacon-double cheeseburger, 감자탕 -- there are so many good treats to be had, so many memories of past and future delicacies, greasy or otherwise, to reminisce over or anticipate having again. But it's the context surrounding the sublimity that makes it superior. And The Wire is life.

Or a reasonable, hand-drawn facsimile thereof, at least.