Eric lies. So do I. You're reading a blog of the liars.

I'm lying because the first thing I want to talk about is the HBO series Deadwood, of which I have just completed the first season. I am too cheap to throw my assets into paying for basic cable, much less premium, so I'm light-years behind. Okay, two seasons behind. But I digress. The fact is, Deadwood is not a film or a movie. So sue me. I will tell you this much: it's brilliant.

If you do get the moxie to watch it, don't come crying to me about the language, you...you....(if you watch Deadwood, you know what I just called you). And don't get all panty-waisted about the violence. Yes, murdered folk tend to get thrown to the Chinaman's pigs, but hey, if you are a meat-eater, what you complaining about, you....you...(yes, being called THAT is even more frequent in Deadwood, so please, stop being such a baby). Oh yeah, and women are treated generally pretty badly, most sold into prostitution. All-in-all, Deadwood is not the feel-good series of the year.

So, uh, why watch it? Deadwood is beautifully acted and astonishingly well-written. It not only gives us a glimpse of government forming in a lawless place (Deadwood was a thrown-together mining camp on Indian land, which was illegal at the time, big surprise that THAT was not an issue), but explores the depths of human nature (blah, blah, blah, I know) in a manner worthy of Shakespeare. The language, once you get the rhythm of it, is poetic.

I cain't (yeah, I'm-a-gettin' all period-piece on ya) say anything about Deadwood that is any more insightful than what you can read on the web. But if you miss it, you're missing out. And if you ask me real nice, I can do a mean Calamity Jane impression for you, even dead sober.

-Lori