Mucho Sucko

“Fade to Black and Stay There For 10 Seconds Because the Producer Has No Freakin’ Clue How to Terminate This Sucker and We’re Too Insecure to Call Him An Idiot ‘Cause He’s A Producer and Must Be Really Important.”

THAT’S what I’d title last night’s series-ending, not-a-moment-too-soon Sopranos episode.

And of course you know my BS meter was on full brown alert this morning as the usual nitwits tossed around words like “Felliniesque” and “Aristotelian” in comparing the show to the works of John Updike and Philip Roth. Um, OK. I guess Updike and Roth probably deserved that, but doesn't poor Aristotle deserve better than all the goombah suck-up nonsense?

Why don’t y’all just admit you like the Bada Bing’s dancers and leave it at that? Given a choice of fakes - erudition or breasts, I’ll take, well, the latter every time.

See, Virginia, sometimes it IS about breasts!