Tony Soprano and a Box of Sand



You guys! Who forgot to tell me that The Sopranos is fucking everything? I was just dickin’ around looking for something to fill the void after I finished The Staircase and I figured what the hell. Give it an episode.

Jesus tits you guys. This show!

Most importantly, the writing is tight as shit. The characters are all complex , decadently rich, and full-bodied. And the therapy scenes are fucking physically painful to watch, so they’re authentic and representative of the real thing. Which is likewise physically painful.

It’s the epitome of character-driven fiction. I mean, step back from it and look at it through the eyes of a writer and it’s clear as day: the plot is nothing but a delivery system for these characters. That, you guys, is good writing. Great, great fiction is built on a foundation of character, not plot.

Oh my god.

I know, you guys. I totally, totally know. I can hear myself. I’m like 20 years late to the party but I am smitten as hell and I can’t stop smooshing.

I’m a total dweeb right now over this damn show.

So. That’s a thing that’s happened.

Okay. I’m only in the midst of season one but here.

Here is where I fell all the way in love.

Tony just got treated like a sideshow attraction by his shithead neighbor and he wants to get him back. Like, this geek thinks it’s all Godfather and so Tony gets a box of sand and asks him to hold on to it.

Just to mindfuck the guy.

Oh my god. You guys.

I love everything about it.

Tony is my people. I mean, there’s the murder and the infidelity and whatever but.

I mean we all have issues.

It’s okay Tony. You’re a work in progress.

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