This has been one hell of a week. What do I remember best about it? Three things: the law (read: long, painful - and I am masochistic - hours dedicated to figuring out the law when no country seems to have done the same), The Fountainhead (that's for another day; I'm still reading... intermittently), and The West Wing [hereinafter, "TWW"].
When work is done for the day and you know you must sleep because tomorrow is going to be another long haul, you don't generally sleep. Instead, you prop yourself up on the bed, pick that red, sexy portable hard drive (and pray, even if you're an agnostic, that your elitist laptop drops a pick-up line) and drift away into West Wing land. And if there was a God, I'd thank her/him/it for TWW without spite and without disagreement; it has gotto be the best show ever created. Never mind that Sorkin was a junkie; never mind that real politics is never like its portrayed - for sheer wit, biting dialogue, character building, laughter, hope, idealism and unadulterated fun, TWW beats all.
Today, I could spend a little while cribbing about how the fourth season doesn't have as much wit and pace as the first three - but that would be uncharitable. It's kept up steady, unchanging rhythm and brilliance for 71 episodes (the specials, people, the specials) and I'm just going to forgive the troughs. In the sine wave that is television drama, there's got to be some of those, after all. For now, I'm just going to remember the best moments.
Like this one:
Toby: Have them send us two panda bears.
Mandy: China is not inclined to give us gifts right now.
Toby: Then get us two regular bears. A bucket of black paint, a bucket of white paint, bam-bam. Next case.
How can you not like the man? Wait. Erase that. How can you not worship that snarky wit and flawless delivery?
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