I am a Game of Thrones fan. I’ll admit I’ve not read the George R. R. Martin books, and, thus, purists might question the credentials of my fandom. But I have watched every episode of the HBO series, and I wait with bated breath for the next season. Game of Thrones satisfies me in numerous ways. Much of the first season was filmed on Malta, that tiny island nation with which I am obsessed. The map of Westeros intentionally mirrors the map of Great Britain, and its rival families hearken to Britain’s colorful history, with which I am also obsessed. Game of Thrones includes intrigue, dragons, wisps of magic, and medieval set piece battles. What’s not to like?
A Houstonian dies and goes to hell. While down there the devil notices that the Houstonian doesn’t seem to be suffering like the rest of the inhabitants. The devil checks the gauges and sees that it is 95 degrees with 80% humidity in hell. So, the devil asks the Houstonian why he is so content. The Houstonian replies, “I like it here. The temperature is just like Houston in June.”
In Cormac McCarthy’s novel Blood Meridian, a young man called only “the Kid” falls in with the notorious Glanton Gang as it marauds across the West under the pretension of protecting settlers from the Comanche. In truth, the Glanton Gang rob, rape, and murder whomever they please, including the very settlers they are paid by the Mexican government to protect. For the most part, the Kid refrains from participating in the Glantons’ worst atrocities, as they slaughter with abandon. Like St. Paul before his conversion, the Kid holds the proverbial coats of the others, but he throws few stones himself.