The Game of Thrones is a bloody one. There are no elections in Westeros. So, if you want to hold office, there’s a good chance you are going to be holding it over someone’s dead body . . . multiple someones, more likely than not.
For those of you who complained, “This season of GOT is not nearly bloody enough. I mean, sure, we had the obligatory Big Death at the end of each episode, Burning Mance in episode 1, headless Dany follower in episode 2, headless Janus at the end of episode 3 . . . that old guy at White Castle the House of Black and White. But I want some serious carnage. The sound of swords searing through flesh . . . rotting, fetid corpses in other places apart from the Bolton’s house, where they are merely decoration . . . a mountain of dead red shirts and extras, whose names we will never learn.” This, my friends, was the episode for you.
Let’s begin the body count, shall we?
She’s Just Not That Into You
Poor Jorah. He truly believes that kidnapping Tyrion Lannister and hijacking a ship to Mereen is going to get him out of the doghouse and into the pants of the Mother of Dragons. Clearly, he hasn’t been watching Game of Thrones this season, and, therefore has no clue about This Guy . . .
Hate to break it to you, Jorah, but a dumpy boat and a humorous dwarf have nothing on washboard abs and a smug hipster in his sexual prime . . .
Speaking of boats . . .
It Has To Be Me . . .
If Bronn is to be believed, the Dornish people currently holding Cersei’s only female incestuous lovechild with Jamie are a bunch of nymphomaniacs with anger management issues and spectacular tans.
“No offense, but sailing to Dorne on a merchant ship and rescuing your ‘niece’ doesn’t really seem like a suitable job for a one-armed pretty boy like yourself,” Bronn muses. “Why don’t you, I don’t know, pay for an army with your ridiculous wealth and power or something.”
“I’ve conceived three abominations with Cersei, and only one turned out to be a total sociopath/possible spawn of Satan,” Jamie explains. “I am grateful to the gods for this stroke of luck, which I may deserve a little bit, because I’m occasionally nice to Brienne and Tyrion. The least I can do is rescue my illegitimate, incestuous, but fortunately not three-headed, child from a life of beach blanket whoredom in Dorne, a.k.a. the Cancun of Westeros.”
“Spring BREEEEEAAAAK,” exclaims Bronn triumphantly, in a voice that sounds suspiciously like James Franco in that Harmony Korine movie with all the naked Disney stars . . .
Religious Cults Are the Worst
After sending any potential dissenters in young King Tommen’s council on paid vacation, Cersei visits the kindly old poo-smelling man she made pope in last week’s episode and gives him an army to beat the sh*t out of everybody basically. The new High Sparrow’s “Faith Militant,” i.e. crazy cultists with creepy head tattoos like Charles Manson, led by Cersei’s cousin and former bedmate, dumb-but-hot Lancel, promptly proceed to break into Littlefinger’s brothel, assault and murder a few sex-starved old guys and prostitutes, and later imprison Sir Loras (a.k.a the Knight of Flowers, a.k.a. Renly’s former adoring boy toy, a.k.a. Queen Margaery’s scamp brother) for being a homosexual.
Lovely Pedophile Margaery promptly appeals to her prepubescent husband to ameliorate her brother’s dire situation. “Tell your bitch of a mother to let my brother out of sex prison,” she demands. “Or you won’t get laid again until you are old enough to get a driver’s license in America.”
“But that’s seven years away,” whines Baby King Tommen. “17 is so old! Almost legal!”
“Well, you better get to work then, Little Blue Balls,” demands Margaery.
“Mother,” Tommen later demands. “I insist that you release Gay Loras from prison so that I can continue to be regularly statutorily raped by my wife, Lovely Pedophile Margaery.”
“No can do,” says Cersei. “But maybe our new Smells Like Poo Pope can save your disturbing sex life for you. Why don’t you ask him yourself? You are king, after all, even if you still suck your thumb and occasionally wet the bed.”
Tommen obediently attempts to visit new Smells Like Poo Pope but is blocked by his creepy cultists, who insist he is praying and cannot be disturbed. “You could kill his minions and take Smells Like Poo Pope by force,” offers one of Tommen’s guards. “It’s WWTLSDJD”,
“Huh?” Tommen asks incredulously.
“What Would that Little Shit Dead Joffrey Do,” the guard answers matter-of-factly.
King Tommen considers this briefly–but quickly finds himself distracted by all the townspeople calling him an incest baby and has to leave quickly. “I’d totally murder you, but I’m long overdue for a breastfeeding by mommy, TTYL,” offers Tommen politely, as he excuses himself.
“Sex denied,” Margaery proclaims later that night, when Tommen gives her the bad news about Loras’ indefinite incarceration. “You can use your hand tonight.”
Tommen sighs sadly, then quickly extends his arm to pet and fondle all the furry pussies in his life that don’ t belong to his inappropriately-aged wife. It’s still a lot of pussy, just saying . . .
In Which Everybody Loves Jon Snow (Except, perhaps, for the guy he decapitated last week)
Back on the Wall, Jon Snow is teaching his men how to fight, and Stannis is watching him adoringly from above. (Methinks someone has a Man Crush!)
Apparently, Stannis’ wife thinks so too, because she pops by to passive aggressively gripe and complain to Stannis about his thinly concealed warm fuzzies for Ned Stark’s bastard kiddie. “Gee Stannis, I’m so sorry I birthed you a girl with scar makeup on her face, instead of a strapping young hunk of man meat like Jon or an evil shadow baby that murdered your awesome brother like Melisandrei.”
Hey, did you guys ever notice that Stannis’ wife is kind of the worst? I mean, I’m not one to at all condone adultery, and certainly not with creepy Melisandrei, who may very well be Satan in disguise. But if anyone has the right to feel a wee bit dissatisfied with his marriage, it’s this guy.
Speaking of Evil Melisandrei, she magically appears to remind Stannis to take her into battle at Winterfell with him, because, one never knows when they might need a woman who produces black shadows from inside her lady parts to vanquish one’s enemies.
Later on in the day, Jon Snow learns that, while the best part of being a commander is being able to sit at the big kids table at meetings, and occasionally decapitate rude baldies, the worst part is most definitely the paper work. Fortunately, Samwell Tarley is a kickass executive assistant. He puts the papers in front of Jon, and all the latter has to do is sign them.
“What is all this crap?” Jon inquires, as his signing hand starts to cramp up.
“You see Jon, over the past few seasons, we’ve murdered a lot of red shirt wall watchers in various battles,” explains Sam. “And just last week, you cut off the head of a bald one. And most people can’t fight without a head. So, these letters beg all the folks from the neighboring towns to send us more extras, who we can then murder and decapitate as we wish! It’s like an open casting call!”
“I hate that you are making me send a letter to Roose Bolton. He murdered my entire family, and his kid is a psychotic. Clearly, any extras he sends me will be demons from hell,” Jon grouses.
“Does this mean you want me to remove the ‘Hugs and Kisses, Jon’ from the signature block on his letter?” Sam asks nervously.
Enter Melisandrei, who is so evil and creepy, she should come with her own soundtrack, so you know she’s coming, like perhaps, the theme song from the Halloween movies, or the one they play whenever the Wicked Witch appears in the Wizard of Oz . . .
Game of Boners
No scene in GOT has felt more like a porn parody of itself than the one in which Melisandrei attempts to seduce Jon Snow into riding to Winterfell with her and Stannis. “The Watchers on the Wall don’t take part in the Wars of the Seven Kingdoms,” insists Jon Snow.
“There’s only one war, the war of life and death,” Melisandrei explains. “Here I’ll show you.”
“What are you going to show me,” scoffs Jon, “a vision in the fire?”
“Not unless fire is what you crazy kids are calling the vajayjay these days,” Melisandrei notes, as she disrobes for Jon, and places his hand on her tit.
WHAT? WHY? WHAT THE HECK AM I WATCHING?
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like sex scenes as much as the next cable subscriber. But this one just seems out of place. Maybe I was wrong about Melisandrei being accompanied by the Halloween soundtrack, when she enters a room. Perhaps, a 70s porn track would be more appropriate.
“Do you feel my heart beating?” Melisandrei asks Jon, because apparently they are playing doctor now.
“Um, I would, maybe, but your massive breast is in the way,” Jon muses.
“That’s cool, because I don’t have a heart anyway. Let’s screw and make a legion of evil shadow babies together that will conquer the world,” Melisandrei entreats, as she straddles Jon, and starts grinding against his leg like it’s a hobby horse.
“I don’t think Stannis, a.k.a the guy whose already cheating on his awful wife with you, would like that,” Jon argues.
“He would if we let him watch,” responds Melisandrei.
(Actually, she didn’t say that. But something tells me that watching his mistress go at it with the adorable object of his man crush, Jon Snow, would not be the most awful experience Stannis could imagine. He also strikes me as a guy who really digs period piece porn, if you catch my drift.)
“I’m sorry. I can’t f*ck you today, because I’m in love with another ginger,” Jon insists. “Dead Ygritte.”
Melisandrei reluctantly relents, “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she says before exiting.
“Dammit! Why are women always saying that to me?” Jon grumbles, as he returns to his paperwork.
“Rats, foiled again,” whines Stannis, as he turns off HBO, in search of some real porn with actual payoff . . .
In which Stannis and Shireen get their Hallmark moment . . .
Upstairs and completely unable to find good porn on Wall Watcher TV, Stannis finds a welcome distraction in his daughter’s presence . “The Wall is no place for a child,” he says apologetically, despite the fact that in the book, most of the Watchers on the Wall are actually prepubescent boys.
“It’s OK, I like it here. I’ve started my own business called ‘Shireen’s School for Westerosians Who Can’t Read Good.’ It’s been a great success. We’ll be publicly traded on NASDAQ next week,” Shireen answers. “Mom told me she didn’t want to take me.”
“Your mother is the worst,” Stannis replies, thus proving that Stannis and I agree on something.
“Are you ashamed of me?” Shireen asks boldly.
It’s something many fans have undoubtedly wondered about Stannis, who seemingly has kept his cute daughter with the scar makeup on her face locked in tower for most of the series’ run. His terrible wife is certainly ashamed of Shireen.
Stannis pauses a bit long before speaking. And, in that moment, fans undoubtedly share Shireen’s nervousness as to what he’s going to respond. He tells his daughter the story of how she got greyscale. As it turns out, she wasn’t born with it, as many, myself included, might have thought, rather she was infected with it by a poisoned doll that Stannis himself had purchased from a Dornish trader and put in her crib when she was a baby.
According to Stannis, once Shireen became infected, everyone thought she would die, and begged Stannis to send his daughter to live with the Stone Men far away. But Stannis refused to abandon his daughter, and eventually found a Maester to cure her. “Because you didn’t belong with the Stone Men,” Stannis explains.
The look on Shireen’s face, upon hearing these words is resplendent. And when the father and daughter hug for the first time on camera, you’d have to have no heart in your big boob like evil Melisandrei not to get a wee bit choked up at the Hallmark card-iness of it all . . .
Wardeness of the North
On the much less Hallmark card end of the spectrum is Littlefinger’s continued dalliances and occasional open mouth kisses with the now fully reborn to the dark side, at least for now, Darth Sansa. Westeros’ second favorite pedophile (Marg is still winning) finds Sansa in the crypt lighting a candle for an aunt she never knew. There, Littlefinger breaks the news to Sansa that he’s leaving for Kings Landing. Thus, Sansa will be alone with gross Ramsey to live amongst all those fetid corpse chandeliers he loves so much.
“Worry not, Darth Sansa,” Littlefinger insists. “Stannis and his Creepy Wife with the army of evil shadow babies between her legs are coming to kill the Boltons. And once they do, they will name you Wardeness of the North, since you are the only surviving Stark child, apart from Bran and Rickon, who nobody cares about, and Arya, who is stuck in hamburgerless White Castle for the foreseeable future.”
“But what if Stannis and his Creepy Wife with the army of evil shadow babies between her legs lose the battle?” Sansa wonders.
“Then, you will become Mrs. Darth Sansa Gross Rotting Fetid Corpse Bolton, and after about a year or so, you will stop noticing the smell of all the dead bodies your creepo husband will make you use as a comforter.”
Then, Littlefinger and Darth Sansa make out.
“I suppose, the next time you see me, I’ll be a married woman,” Sansa muses half-flirtatiously.
“Never stopped me before,” winks Littlefinger.
In Which Bronn Gets his Very Own Dornish Stallion . . .
While traveling in Dorne and munching on a yummy rattlesnake dinner, Jamie and Bronn come upon four men on horseback, who quickly suss them out as outsiders, and wish to murder them. “How many do you think you could take?” Bronn asks his new one-handed buddy.
“One, if he’s slow,” Jamie muses.
So, Bronn easily dispatches of three of the four men, steals the horse of one, and murders the horse of the fourth. “This one should be slow enough for you,” Bronn offers.
And he IS slow enough! Jamie kills him! Hooray! Kingslayer’s still got the swagger!
Then, Jamie makes Bronn bury all the dead bodies himself, because he’s a pimp . . . also because it’s really hard to dig with only one hand . . .
Sistahs Sand Snakes are doing it for themselves . . .
When we last saw Ellaria Sand, she was busy being disappointed that Doran Martell wasn’t cool with mutilating little Lannister girls to avenge Oberyn Martell’s death. Ellaria has a hunch that Oberyn’s illegitimate daughters , who appear to live under a sheet held up by three poles, will be less discriminatory about who they mutilate. “Do you choose peace or war?” Ellaria asks the three women.
In response, Obara, the oldest, throws a spear into the head of the guy who brought Jamie Lannister into town, just because she can. Clearly, this is not the kind of girl you sing Kumbaya with around a campfire while eating s’mores.
Making the Best of a Bad Situation
While on a boat bound for Mereen, the captive Tyrion entertains his captor Jorah by singing with a gag in his mouth. When Jorah removes the gag, Tyrion admits that he was going to see Dany anyway, and that the two of them, captor and captive, share a mutual disdain for the awful Cersei.
Tyrion is smart enough to surmise that Jorah’s kidnapping of him is nothing more than a desperate attempt of the latter to get back into Dany’s good graces and possibly her bed, after she banished him for trading her secrets to Kings Landing (probably because he accidentally deleted all the Dany/Daario episodes of this show on his DVR and doesn’t realize yet that he’s WAAAAY outmatched and there isn’t a chance in hell he’s ever going to get to hit that).
Jorah responds to this revelation by punching Tyrion in the face and knocking him unconscious. Bad move, Jorah. Who is going to sing to you now?
Ser Barristan-Wan Kenobi and Grey Worm versus Those Creeps with the Weird Masks (a.k.a The Scene Where Everybody Gets Bludgeoned to Death)
Over in Mereen, Dany is having a warm conversation with loveable grandfather type Barristan about how her dad used to dress up like a minstrel and sing to the public because it was fun, also because he was a nutbar. She sends Barristan out for a walk amongst the people, while she attends her umpteenth council meeting about re-opening the fighting pits.
“Fighting pits unite the people, and give them something to live for. Reopening them will show you respect their traditions,” says Mereenite guy. “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”
We interrupt this episode of CSPAN-Westeros Edition to bring you LOTS OF PEOPLE GETTING VIOLENTLY MURDERED!!!!
Apparently, the Sons of the Harpy, aka, the folks in the weird masks stolen from the orgy scene in the movie Eyes Wide Shut are super pissed at Dany about the whole “no more slaves” thing, so pissed in fact that they want to KILL EVERYONE (which sort of doesn’t make sense, seeing as, if everyone is dead, no one can be a slave).
The unsullied, led by Greyworm try to put down the Sons. But Greyworm seems to be the only one really having any luck with it. Then Barristan joins in, and he’s like the coolest fighting old man since Obi Wan Kenobi, just slicing through Mask Heads like they are his morning bagels.
Then he dies . . . which sucks, and Greyworm dies too . . . I think, maybe.
The final shot of the hour is a really gross hallway filled with a pile of murdered rotting disgusting corpses, kind of like what you would imagine Ramsey’s childhood bedroom would look like, if he ever had a childhood . . .
And that was “Sons of the Harpy.” Until next time, my friends . . .
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