I heard last weekend that the new season of Deadwood commences on June 11, and I was ecstatic. This show is more testosterone-laden than the Sopranos, if you can imagine, and full of grit and sundry varieties of filth. I love it.
The overseer of all the goings on in town, whorehouse/saloon master Swearingen functions as the ultimate Filthy McNasty, cursing his kidney stones, barking orders at cowering minions and plotting world domination, occasionally interrupting his harangues to berate the unfortunate female under the desk.
My joy was short-lived, as I've just learned that HBO will not renew Deadwood for another season. Desolation! I loved Carnivale, but I always knew its days were numbered: the public is only going to buy so many showdowns between a messianic figure and a minion of Beelzebub. But Deadwood? You'd take away my Deadwood? Alas! Say it isn't so?
OK. I'll fight through it. Just don't even THINK about taking away Rome, HBO, or you'll have me to reckon with.
Me, addicted to tv? Nah.