Damn

I can't believe Joe got popped like that.


That was my first reaction when HBO's The Wire ended. I'm not going to explain what The Wire is about. If you don't know too bad, google that shit.

But Joe, damn Joe. How ironic that one of the most intelligent and aware characters on the show would be unable to figure out that his nephew was driven more by greed and pride than any sense of loyalty? Or, that in the midst of running from the bogeyman in the dark (in this case a royally pissed off Omar), Joe would be bitten by the viper he invited into his bosom to grow warm.

When Marlo told him that he wasn't cut out to be the son, it was like the viper hissing at it' victim that it was still a snake as it pulled back its venom dripping fangs.

I liked Joe. His cool demeanor, constant calculation and underlying code of honor appealed to me. He seemed like an old school gangster, somebody who did dirt and did evil, but had not let it consume him totally. Somebody who would live in an old row house in the hood because his ancestor was the first darkie on the block. That shows a certain mindset, something I could hold on to even as he committed heinous acts.

But, what the fuck is honor to a gun? Honor ain't shit when Marlo is getting a hard on watching your last few moments on earth while mostly mute henchman nuzzles a nine millimeter against the nape of your neck. At its core, the game is still the game.

Marlo was buying, and, well, it's a buyer's market.

Oh, and Kenard is a funny little motherfucker.