After watching the Sopranos series finale last night, I have one question for David Chase: Um, the hell?
I had no sympathy for Meadow’s frustratingly long parallel-park scene. She was driving a BMW. Who has sympathy for people with seat-warmers? You know what I do with a cold seat? I sit on my hands!
Instead of letting AJ join the military, they gave him a BMW M3. They should have given him one of those thick padded suits so he could run while an attack dog chases him down and mauls this stupid depression subplot.
And Journey? Of all the Steve Perry ballads, why did you have to choose, “Don’t Stop Believin’?” I mean, really? What was the logic there? To resurrect painful memories of my 9th grade prom and my lackluster date who wouldn’t dance with me until I slipped $10 into his pocket? And only after I said, “That’s not dancing! You have to move,” did he pull a robot/Tae Bo lunge/karate chop and insisted, “There. I moved.”
You owe me a Hamilton, David Chase.