Throne Of Thrones — Full Series Review
Back in 1990, no one could have predicted that a little show debuting on HIBBO would, nearly 30 years hence, rise to become the world’s most intensely watched, anticipated, and scrutinized television program of all recorded time. By the midway point of episode 2 in Season 1 of Throne of Thrones, the viewer is asked to come to terms with his own humanity. Anyone who has seen the series knows exactly what I’m speaking of. To the handful of humans who have not, please overt your eyes now. Spoilers are coming…
The First Shocker
When Jimmy Bannister cuts off Fred Bark in traffic, every single show watcher’s heart stopped. That is a cold, hard fact. You can look it up. Our pulmonary systems were only put back to their normal functions when Fred of House Bark flipped Jimmy of House Bannister his raven. At that point, we knew our hero Fred meant business. He went on to rule the night’s watches. All of them. He opened a shoppe and called it “Watches By The Sea.” Together with his apprentice, Dumbuldorous Ed, they repaired all the timepieces in all the seventeen hundred forty-nine kingdoms. But, much to the dismay of the royal guarders of the hour, Fred and Dumbuldorous had a secret plan that was revealed all too late! They would not return the watches!
I know! This dastardly distraction led to the inevitable cliffhanger to end the first season: Who, if anyone, could tell the time of day? Would it be Samshell Gnarly from the Wizard’s Keep? Or maybe Maggie Tyrone of House Tyrone? One thing was certain, the pimp they called Tearion Wenshelsnezzer would have something to say about all of this! He’d use his superior mind powers to cast a great shadow where sunlight should be, and from there, he would know when to tell people it was safe to eat their lunch. Because, noon.
Seasons 2 Through 25
Let me tell you, when the realm finally got their Rolexes back in Season 19, I was just about to lose my you-know-what. “They can’t do that on TV!” I shouted. You can ask my wife. She heard it. So did the kids. I woke up the whole dang house with my thoughtless, horrified exclamation. As it turns out though, I was right. You can’t do that sort of thing on TV. But this isn’t TV, is it now, friends? It’s HIBBO.
Where can one even begin to pick up the narrative? So many unbelievable plot points have occurred! Do you remember The Bed Deading? How could one forget?! When the main, elderly characters went to sleep that night, we thought they’d be safe under their warm and cozy comforters. But then all three of them suffered from heart failure as they dreamed of younger times. They passed away peacefully before dawn. Oh, Bed Deading, you destroyed me so.
The Final Season
To say Throne of Thrones culminated with just one final season would be incorrect; that moronic statement would do the series a grave injustice. Actually split into 162 five-minute episodes over the course of two rip-roaring, jam-packed, crazy weeks full of thrill splits and scenery twists, Throne of Thrones did not disappoint. Tonight, our beloved story came to its well-earned conclusion with grace and poise, silence and noise, belly laughs and dead-eyed, dancing girls and boys.
Yes, we had to say goodbye to 175 of our favorite heroes and villains, but listen, it could have been 176. Or even 177. Can you fathom the beating (pun) your heart would endure, were the actual death toll 177? I cannot. And I thank and praise HIBBO for sparing us those extra two character lives (I’m looking at you Silver Slug and Santa Snark!) so that we can carry on throughout our own lives, counting our blessed blessings that we were well-schooled on what it has all lead to, from the very start. The meaning of our existence, as laid out in that most final of final finalities, is that, akin to the Stranger of Nebejedu, we should never gander at a Gendrey. Rather, we should pick up our ukuleles and sing.
Please join me in a solemn dirge. You all know the words to The Hails of Bedamere. Please, don’t be shy to shed a tear, as we croon:
This is the song of why we bed early
We should, one of us at least, go
In the full sorrow of our tired mornings,
We should, yes all of us sow
Love that was once what we thought it to be
Now is a cast in our show,
We should not want for the soft, galant servantry
We should but want to go
To sleep! To sleep! To sleep! To sleep!
We should but want to go.
Bravo Throne, Bravo.