This is a post. Make of it what you will.

I was going to write something really, really long and detailed about filmed adaptations of literature.
I was.
I just don't think I have it in me.
I don't have it in me for a whole hell of a lot this week, though. Maybe next week? Maybe in a few days?
That post is coming. Just... not tonight.

I do have something I want to say about books, though, having gotten myself mot of the way through A Storm of Swords. (That's book 3 of A Song Of Ice And Fire, for those of you keeping tabs.)

I think I officially want to hug George R. R. Martin.

Not in a sexual way.

Allow me to explain, and come with me for a moment on a flight of fancy, because I like to imagine that this is what happened.

He woke up one morning, took care of necessaries, and got himself all psyched up for an action-packed day of sitting around writing A Clash Of Kings.
He sat himself down in front of his (typewriter/word processor/computer/notebook/tablet and chisel), took a sip of his tea, and dove right in.
Five lines later, though, he stopped suddenly.
He looked out the window, and a smirk formed on his lips as a mad glint overtook his eye.
Fuck this shit, he thought to himself. I have this brilliantly crafted world populated by these carefully-wrought characters who have built this intricate and devious web of political intrigue amongst themselves, and... just fuck this. I'll finish writing this story, but I am going to make them cringe like nuns if they want to find out how it ends. I shall test them. Yes. This is what I shall do.
And, with a quiet chuckle, he carried on with his day.

That's the only logical explanation I can come up with for the end of the second book and the majority of the third.

And you know what?

 

Anyone who can just straight-up pull some of this weird shit out of thin air, toss it in, and still have me completely plowing my way through the actual story without being too bovvered about it... that takes skill.
He's probably aware of that fact, and just doesn't even care.

(Mr. Martin, if you're reading this? You're one of my heroes now, and also a fabulous troll king. I mean that in the best of ways. Any confirmation or denial of my suspicions would be appreciated.)

The point to this? I keep trying to decide if I actually want to find a way to watch A Game Of Thrones. (I'm violently allergic to paying for cable.)
It looks like it's really well done, and I've heard a number of good things... I just don't think I could stomach it if they tone down the more disturbing moments in the books.

Which, I mean... makes me sound a little bit twisted, sure, but you have to understand that when it's not people (killing/plotting to kill) each other, it's become this hilarious-yet-vomit-inducing horror-show, and I can't get enough.

On a final note, I recommend Texts from Westeros to anyone who is even passingly familiar with the series. (Though I've not watched the series yet, I know who the actors are supposed to be, so it's still magically hilarious.)