The Wire Appreciation No. 6627 (4483)

Mr. Little, if I recall you made a promise to one Bunk Moreland that you wouldn't drop any more bodies. I, for one, believed you; because, to quote you in your own words, "A man gotta have a code," right? To your credit, you kept that promise for quite a while, almost two whole seasons -- though not always for a lack of trying. I realize that self preservation is what has gotten you this far, and I can't fault you for your survival instinct. I can't. If someone comes at me and tries to take my inhale-exhale, tries to spill my life liquid, I'm going to do my damnedest to reciprocate. Human nature.

But, see, you sir are a wounded animal, and predators can smell your weakness. It won't be long until the vultures start circling, waiting to feast upon your carrion, I expect. That's a safe bet from an anthropological perspective. What I'm more interested in, however, is the metaphysical side of things. "Promises are made to be broken," so the man said; but -- and I think you will agree -- promise breakers exist on a level far below that which we, the enlightened ones, inhabit. Karma, fidelity...hell, Catholic guilt: we have a sense of justice, however biased or inherently wrong it may be, that we adhere to. A code. And once you take those abject steps into temptation (first) and violating your own morality (next), your downfall is all but assured, especially when your series is coming to a close and the writers have exhausted every exploit of yours there is left to tell.

Omar Little, you just gave yourself the kiss of death.