Baltimore, barbecue, and the Wire

i talked to my sister yesterday for the first time in ages, and she told me about the barbecue misfortunes of working for one of Stephanie Rawlings-Blake's underlings in the Baltimore mayor's office. it was a dastardly tale, full of intrigue, treachery and missed opportunities, and in spite of the poor cell reception, (or perhaps because), i couldn't help but think of The Wire, which is

easily the greatest television show ever produced about Baltimore.

i don't remember how i learned about The Wire, but it must have been in relation to The Sopranos, which i discovered by chance in crappy video store in New Jersey during the coldest winter i have ever known.

but this is beside the point.

the point is that one of the wonderful things about not owning a television set is that i'm always at least two years behind the curve when it comes to hot new television shows. all the anticipation and worry and wanting and waiting and wondering what will happen next is eliminated, replaced instead by the hedonism and gluttony of marathon sessions in front of my computer screen, eating metaphorical (and sometimes literal) blocks of cheese in my underwear. there are few pleasures that can compare to the willful disregard for mental health in favor of post-dated televised consumption.

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one of those, however, is the liberal application of hyperbole on a Wednesday morning.