The Wire: Reformation (S3:E10)

“But as a shorty I looked up to the dopeman / only adult-man I knew that wasn’t broke, man”

            The beauty of “The Wire” lies not just in its grander attributes, its social commentary, its constant callbacks to continuity, and its creation of a credible and cromulent (…and I’m done) Baltimore, but also in it’s simple pulp writing. The little things, like the constant repetition of “man” as a punctuating statement to many lines of dialogue in this episode (it’s only overtly obvious when Snoop says it, but you can see it’s almost everywhere if you’re looking for it). It’s rhythmic, and it sort of hints at a going battle that’s present almost everywhere in the episode: what would a “real man” do?

            There are two places where this is most obvious. The first is an interesting blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shot of Commander Rawls at a gay bar, clearly feeling comfortable and in his element. I’m not sure how I feel about this, for a reason that always makes me uncomfortable in the show: it seems to be hinting at the grander theme that “sexual orientation (but you could just as well say “race” or “gender”) doesn’t matter.” On one hand, this is a great sentiment: much better characters not be defined crudely as “gay,” or “black.” But it seems to me to be lacking in the other direction: I don’t think race/gender/orientation is merely an add-on of a trait, and that all of them are, in fact, rather important to one’s identity. I digress: it’s literally just a second, but it’s one that does get at one of the maybe two or three things that really bug me about the show.

            The other (at least obvious) place is with Cutty’s attempts to build up his boxing gym. The kids come in, and Cutty, who has much more experience with murder than he does with childcare, can’t quite handle the little rascals. He gets angry, insults them, and they leave. Luckily, Cutty has enough people willing to provide the advice he needs to hear, and the “don’t be willing to let them fail” is a particularly good one (especially seeing the season that follows this one). Chad Coleman, the actor who portrays Cutty, can go from “terrifying mass of man” to “strong father figure” at the drop of a hat, which says a ton about his presence. Cutty isn’t much for words, but he realizes that physical strength doesn’t (or must not) always lead to a life as a soldier, and maybe Justin (the boy who returns to the gym) can learn well from him.

            If we view masculinity as sort of a traditional position of righteous leadership, which is admittedly enough of a dicey point where I’m going to mostly drop the thread, we can see this battle at play amongst Stringer, Avon, and Marlo. Marlo, of course, continues his path towards being the most despicable character on the show, executing Devonne (who previously betrayed him) with three gun shots, one in each breast and one in the mouth. It’s violence as sexual dominance, which should come as no surprise having seen Marlo’s earlier sex scene.

            Marlo’s clearly the dark underbelly of what the “men” in the game do, making Stringer and Avon the good guys merely by position. Of course, we see Stringer betraying his life-long friend and partner to the police on behalf of the business, a terribly underhanded move that nonetheless makes a good degree of sense. I think Avon’s code is a ton more likeable than String, but look at it from an unbiased perspective: if Avon gets what he wants, their business seems like it will collapse, many more people will die, and my hunch would be that Avon and Stringer both go down with the ship. Stringer’s Machiavellian plans may seem terrible, but they make a good degree of sense (the grand tragedy is that the guy who is best at “the game” is also the one most eager to get out of it).

            Then, of course, we have the biggest part of the episode: the confession of Hamsterdam by Bunny. It was inevitable, as someone was bound to find out about a mass-scale drug legalization program, but its descent isn’t as quick as he may have assumed. Seeing Rawls and Burrell scramble to cover their asses, without a single concern as to what the benefits are of doing so. Of course, government isn’t completely without a tie to reality, and his use of public letters draws a surprisingly supportive responsive from a desperate Royce campaign. Everyone’s a selfish schmuck in their own way (Rawls perhaps the least, getting the joy he does out of what happens), but still…

“Call it a crisis of leadership” –Prop Joe

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  Carcetti feels really guilty about having to betray Anthony Gray in order to win the nomination for mayor. He’s right, of course, about basically everything: he’s the best of the three candidates (Gray lacks the tack, and Royce is too apathetic), and honesty would ruin his chances. He’s a political sociopath, surely, but he has emotions and functional loyalties: nice to see them when they pop up.

n  Prop Joe cuts out Stringer: democracy has its downsides when you’re on the wrong side of public sentiment.

n  McNulty is still upset about his failed relationship with D’Agostino, who seems to think she’s better than him. “The Wire” has an interesting relationship with the world outside of Baltimore: the connections are hinted at, through the docks, the approach of NY gangs, but, save for the concluding shot of Omar in the Bronx to Season One, Wallace in suburban Md., and a plotline I’m not going to discuss in Season Five, we never leave. It’s a proudly local show, and McNulty’s anger at D’Agostino (read: Washington, DC) is also the showrunner’s (David Simon almost didn’t hire George Pelacanos, the writer of the show’s next episode. As a warning, it’s one of the show’s best, and the first to be nominated for an Emmy).

The Wire: Slapstick (S3:E9)

"Bang Bang I hit the ground / Bang Bang that awful sound"

            This is my second time making it through “The Wire,” and rewatching a piece of entertainment really changes how one thinks about it. It’s like the second time watching “Fight Club,” when you’re looking for all the proof that Tyler Durden is the Narrator. You know what’s coming, and you’re looking for the lead-up to the developments. I forgot, however, that this was the episode where Prez accidentally kills a fellow cop, up until the point when he and Jimmy go out to get chinese food. It’s not a twist that is hinted at the whole time: it just happens, randomly in the moment.

            It’s a crushing moment where just about everything goes wrong. He made a mistake, indulged his violent instinct (we saw it before in Season One) and didn’t do good policework. Prez is, I think, a fundamentally good person (and there is a lot of evidence of that coming next season), but he has a dark side. That side may or may not be racist, as he admits, but it’s there, and bad luck of the worst kind hits him right here. The whole police department thinks of Prez as a screw-up, when in fact he’s become damn good at his very behind-the-desk investigations. That difference between what “is” and what ends up being important in the bureaucracy is a constant theme of the show, with the real horror coming from real issues being glossed over by political concerns.

            A similar event occurs in Hamsterdam. Carver finds a dead body in the free-zone, and realizes that if homicide comes to the area the experiment will be over. He decides, in the moment, to move the body out of the territory, tampering a crime scene by the generally grotesque act of altering a corpse. It may be for the greater good, but it’s still an inversion of the truth (a pretty solemn one, a murder) for the sake of political concerns. Institutions, goals, rules: they all matter. They matter when the federal government won’t concentrate on drug crime, they matter when a potential do-gooder can’t get permits to build a gym unless he knows someone (luckily, he does), and they matter in a racially-charged Baltimore Police Department. Even the benign rules have far-reaching impacts.

            Of course, sometimes a cover-up doesn’t require a big institutional rationale. In the case of D’Angelo Barksdale’s murder, it’s all about saving face. Stringer had him killed, Avon now knows, but both have to lie (although I think Avon might word his responses to avoid out-and-out lying) to Brianna about her son’s fate. Avon is clearly a mess about the thing, with his angry speech to Brianna about never having anything to do with “whatever happened to D” also indirectly a response to Stringer. But business is business, and they’re at war, so they get over what’s happened and proceed with their lives.

           

“…while you’re waiting for moments that never come.” –Freamon       

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  “Ed Burns” is thrown out by McNulty as an example of a good cop in the city. He is, of course, one of the show’s executive producers/primary writers, as well as a former Baltimore Cop. I’m sure the other names are references to things I don’t understand as well.

n  The cop is unfortunately the second victim of friendly fire, Omar’s female associate being the first. “The Wire’s” a pretty compelling narrative in that regard, in that its sprawling nature (Omar’s plot is almost wholly detached from Prez’s) can show just how easily mistakes happen. It provides a lot of political fodder (an argument for gun control?), but I just think it’s interesting to see the whole picture connected in odd ways.

n  Herc finally snaps and calls up the Baltimore Sun (we’ll see more of them in Season Five) to inform them about Hamsterdam.

n  Carcetti is clearly torn about how much he can betray Anthony Gray in his ambitions to run for mayor.

n  The Co-op is concerned about the violence between Barksdale and Marlo, but without any effective incentives to make Stringer stop (which only Prop Joe has, with his connection), they’re basically impotent.

n  Clay Davis, still playing Stringer. Stringer, still can’t build anything.

The Wire: Moral Midgetry (S3:E8)

“There’s a War on War”

            Let’s start with the ending. “The Wire” is often described as novelistic, as opposed to, say, episodic television, and you’ll find no better evidence than in the episode’s conclusion. This show is an investment, and although you might not find discrete episodes that are as fantastic as some standalone episodes of “The Sopranos,” moments like this are worth waiting for. It’s one of those great fights, almost like one between a married couple, where all the tensions that have gone unsaid in a violent, crushing exchange. It’s short, actually, but that doesn’t make it any less painless.

            Avon finally calls out Stringer for performing the role of businessman, while not living either that part or the part of a true druglord. It’s a totally valid criticism, but I think the episode also shows us that Avon might not be quick enough for the game anymore. Face it: he’s not as brutal as Marlo (and we’ll see evidence of that next week), he doesn’t have soldiers as talented (“Would you rather…meet Chris Partlow or Snoop in a dark alley”), and he’s missing as much of the picture as Stringer is. Stringer’s the more scummy of the two, absolutely. But, more than anything, Stringer and Avon share the same fatal flaw: a lack of recognition that together they are far more than the sum of their parts. This makes it all the more crushing when Stringer reveals to Avon he killed D’Angelo in a fit of jealousy (Avon fights back, but “loses” due to his shoulder gunshot wound. It’s easy to dismiss Stringer as cheap in the fight, but based on the actor’s muscle tone, I wouldn’t doubt Idris Elba’s fighting ability). The violence is relatively tame, but the crushing part is the silence afterwards, with only the two men’s heavy breathing in the air. It’s an excruciating minute of television, seeing a friendship, a lifetime partnership really, broken up in one moment. Even if String is still an ass.

            How did Avon get wounded, you may ask? I’ll tell you. Marlo may not seem human, but he does seem to enjoy the, um, basest of human pleasures, at a club one night. Avon has set him up, in a way, using the girl as a way to draw Marlo into the open. The plan backfires, however: Chris Partlow is always around, ominous (he gets minimal dialogue this season, but his presence is that of the Grim Reaper’s), and when Snoop catches a guy bringing four sandwiches to a car outside Marlo’s motel, he makes his move. He only clips Avon, but he takes out Sandwich Man. In essence, Avon learned that not only is he not dealing with a fool here, but he’s dealing with an organization even more wildly cautious than his own.

            And Avon would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for someone insisting on working within the construction business and not playing everything in the drug game cautiously. Stringer gets played so obviously by Clay Davis, giving him God knows how much money as a bribe (I always use “Dodgeball” when trying to figure out how much money is in a briefcase), and doesn’t realize he isn’t ready for the “big leagues.” He’s a known murderer, thug, etc., and that reputation doesn’t work well even in the businesses of Baltimore.

            On another note: how much of an ass is McNulty? Making passes at Kima (KIMA!), pretending to be racist because he assumes someone in Virginia whose a cop must be racist (which ends with the great reveal that he’s married to his black deputy), and then just absolutely ruining Brianna Barksdale with guilt. McNulty insinuates that only Donnette cared about D’Angelo (but she didn’t, BECAUSE SHES SLEEPING WITH STRINGER!) when only D’s family, she and Avon, really gave a shit. McNulty’s tactics work, somehow, but he’s due for a rude awakening. He’s just not as good at police as he thinks he is, and one of these days his cocky side should get the best of him. Or maybe not: difficult to tell in Baltimore.

“Crawl, walk, and then run” –Clay Davis

           

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  THIS IS 2004: No Usher this week, but we do hear J-Kwon’s stone cold classic “Tipsy.”

n  Marlo even has sex creepily, although I must admit that “It worked for me” is a beautiful post-coital sentiment.

n  Carcetti looks longingly at footage of himself speaking in the council, like a teenager watching “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” for the first time.

n  “I see a man without a country. Not hard enough for this right here, and maybe, just maybe not smart enough for them out there”

n  If you’re a Springsteen fanatic, like me, you’ll notice an impressive thing standing in the background of the gym Cutty visits: Clarence Clemons, “The Big Man” saxophonist of The E Street Band. I don’t know why they casted him, but it was an awesome decision.

The Wire: Back Burners (S3:E7)

“Where do we go / where do we go now”

            This might be because I’m writing this the morning that I witness my last move-in of freshmen into my lovely university, but isn’t change brutal? It can be great, exciting, don’t get me wrong (e.g. when I moved in), but it seems so random, yet obviously inescapable. You might be able to adapt, as the unit does to the burners. Alternately, something random might pop up to ruin your day, like when they realize that Avon Barksdale is back on the street. Change is going to come: the only thing that remains unknown is what it brings.

            Hamsterdam, of course, is messing with a lot of things right now. We hear the statistics about the reduced crime in most of the district, and we’ve previously seen people out watering their lawn (because that’s what counts as progress in Baltimore), but there are huge costs. “Known Unknowns” and “Unknown Unknowns,” to borrow a War on Terror description. Major Colvin knew that eventually another cop would come upon Hamsterdam, he just didn’t know when. He was lucky enough here for it to be McNulty et al., cops who will probably keep mum on the experiment. I doubt, however, he could have anticipated the anarchy that would descend upon the children of the Drug War.

            Carver’s solution remains one of the more interesting parts of the season. “The Wire” is not a documentary, even if it does aim for realism, and I think there’s cause to doubt the plausibility of the whole welfare system arising in West Baltimore. But the Hamsterdam experience is as much thought-experiment as anything else. “Deadwood’s” true genius was in how it explored, through the Western genre, the way societies come to be, how the governments, economies etc. organize themselves in new communities. In many ways, that’s what Hamsterdam is (“West” Baltimore, after all), an assortment of cops and criminals tentatively cooperating to improve everyone’s lot. On both shows, and as it is in life, there are a ton of setbacks.

            The kids themselves, of course, are the main issue arising out of Hamsterdam. All laws create the demand for bureaucrats to deal with them, and for citizens to try and get around them, and the runners and lookouts of the drug game are no different than, say, lawyers and “political consultants” (borrowing Clay Davis’ title for a second). If the law vanishes, their job does too, and West Baltimore doesn’t have the type of community that could support them. Carver, the socialist pig, realizes that Hamsterdam’s value is great enough that he can tax the dealers with little threat of them leaving (ECONOMIC GEOGRAPHY), and so decides to set up a welfare system of quasi-afterschool programs for the kids…only the kids are already not going to school. It’s a start, but the broken basketball hoop shows that there’s a ton more work to be done.

            Meanwhile, Marlo fires his first shot in the war with the Barksdale Organization, enlisting Snoop to take out Poot’s corner. Among the many drive-by shootings in “The Wire,” this one sticks out for two reasons. One, Snoop looks so absurdly childish on the motorcycle before she shoots at Poot. It’s why she’s so effective as a character, a stone-cold murderer at age 12. Two, the way Poot plays possum is a great fake-out, and also a logical one. He’s clearly reeling from shock at the shooting, and gets up with his associate’s blood covering his shirt. It all happens so fast, no one knows how to react.

            One final thought: it’s no secret that David Simon, Ed Burns and the staff of “The Wire” are largely anti-War on Drugs, but credit to them for showing the horrors of drug legalization in Hamsterdam throughout the episode. Bubbles’ walk through Hamsterdam is beyond nightmarish. The audio mix is slightly off, with only Bubbles being fully intelligible, and the dope fiends are horrible. It makes even non-sober Bubbles seem downright responsible by comparison, but it also shows a ring of hell the show could very well have ignored. Keeping drugs concentrated in one area may allow for “regular” people to have a safer home, yet that of course has a cost. As does everything.

           

“Conscience do cost” – Butchie

Observations and What-Have-You’s

n  THIS IS 2004 ALERT: Remember how big Confessions was as an album? If not, “The Wire” is there to help, as this is the second straight episode with an Usher song, “Burn.” And I’m sure “Yeah” is going to show up soon.

n  It’s interesting how Colvin’s tactical deployment argument is similar to how Obama functionally legalized the Dream Act by declining to deport qualifying illegal immigrants. Both men are certainly in the right, but the argument does ring kind of hollow.

n  A nice little fade-to-black off of Kima throwing the file-holder thing at the camera.  Also, does anyone do better angry eyes than Lance Reddick?

n  I really thought that Dozerman would have a breakdown on stage judging from how nervous he was.

n  Yes, I overuse Caps Lock for mock humorous effect. I’m aware, and I have no intention of changing it.

n  Omar, meanwhile, gets a relatively dry subplot intended to wrap up a few loose ends. He’s still in shock from Bunk’s dressing down, and decides to do a favor for the man by finding Dozerman’s gun. It frees up Bunk and Omar to do more interesting things, but is itself relatively dry (although Butchie gets, as always, a good monologue out of the thing, about the futility of focusing on sorrow).

n  How many times does the show dip into the “Butchie’s blind, but he sees more than everyone” well? It’d be irritating if it weren’t such a well-written role.

n  As always, props to the writing staff for the will to make McNulty so unlikeable. Making you feel for the bosses, Daniels in this case, is difficult, but McNulty is so clearly a selfish ass about the policework, and the show resists any temptation to make him the loveable rogue here. His pursuit of Theresa seems more like delusional stalking than flirting, and everyone’s face when he shows up to work demonstrates what little respect the unit has for him.

n  I think the reason I like Cutty so much as a character is how well he portrays a sort of inability to express himself. Writers tend to write eloquent characters because they (hopefully) are, but it takes real skill to write some who actually can’t say how he’s feeling. 

The Wire: Homecoming (S3:E6)

“War, children. It’s just a shot away.”

            What’s a little police brutality between old acquaintances? The opening montage demonstrates a really uncomfortable point about why cops are so often accused of harming criminals: they do it because it’s joyful. You have the full ability to abuse your enemy, and because you’re on the right side of the law and criminals can’t go to anyone else (complaining to cops about cops?), so you can normally get away with it, even if it isn’t in pursuit of a grandiose drug legalization program. But, more importantly, they just seem to enjoy doing it. Look at Detective Santangelo when he drops off the drug dealers somewhere in the middle of nowhere of North Maryland. Part of its revenge, surely, but part of it’s a sad fact: humans generally love exerting dominion over others, cops and criminals alike. Violence is, all too often, as potent an intoxicant as any drug being slung on the streets of Baltimore.

            However, the cops are nothing compared to Marlo and Avon. They’re brutal, and normally efficient, and both are looking for war. Unfortunately, in the “Who ya got” category, Avon is suffering. His underlings are woefully incompetent, as they ruin literally every part of Slim Charles and Cutty’s plan (approaching from the driver’s side, being only two blocks away, not waiting for a phone call) and, subsequently, lose two people in what was supposed to be a simple ambush. Marlo is, for now, a presence on the sideline, not acting against Avon quite yet, but we can see he’s confident, he’s ruthless, and he’s got the better muscle on his side because, well, how could he have worse?

            Stringer has always been averse to violence, businessman that he is, and it’s starting to bite him on both sides. Seeing him rendered impotent by the random suits in the construction business feels so wrong, yet simultaneously, it’s the only way it could be. The drug world has implicit agreements, fucked as they may be, and they don’t translate to the highly codified, semi-legitimate world of condo-building. He’s thinking like an academic version of a businessman, not like an actual one, and his pie-in-the-sky dreaming (because academia must always be pie-in-the-sky) has disconnected him from both the streets and the real world.

            This is, at its core, Cutty’s episode. We see both sides of the man: who he once was, and who he is now. He’s brutally efficient with his first plan, even if it isn’t executed, and looks all the part of a hitman riding around in black with Slim Charles. But once he sees Fruit, a man he has every reason to shoot, he can’t pull the trigger. He’s, borrowing from Butchie, seen too much, and simply can’t do this anymore. He’s not a murderer, even though he’s certainly murdered before.

            His scene with Avon works wonderfully for that very reason. We have, in the room, three different people trying to “be a man” and own up to their own flaws (It’s probably why we respect all three so much, even though they have a net body count that’s best left unmeasured). Slim Charles covers for Cutty, understanding the solemnity of what happened in Cutty’s mind, but Cutty refuses to let that happen. He confronts Avon, saying “The game ain’t in me no more,” and says it with a conviction we rarely see from the relatively aloof parolee. It’s Avon, however, who realizes the inherent, um, let’s say “Truth” of what Cutty is saying. He’s not casting judgment, he’s not afraid. Cutty is, to Avon, an inspiration, a “man” who gets out of the game. It’s odd that the show makes us love guys like Avon, Omar, Cutty, but there’s more to men than their job, even more than their worst sins. They’ve all done unspeakable ill, but there’s more to the human comedy than that.

“Just a gangster, I suppose” – Avon Barksdale

Observation and What-Have-You’s

n  SHIIIIIIIIIT! Oh, Larry Whitlock Jr. and your oddly elongated pronunciation of that word. It’s great to see you in your full-on glory.

n  How the Emmys couldn’t nominate Wendell Peirce for his scene dressing down Omar is beyond me. Then again, they only nominated the show twice, because they’re terrible.

n  The hardest part of being a cop, according to McNulty: “explaining to your wife why she needs to take antibiotics for your kidney infection.”

n  McNulty’s other killer one-liner: “What kind of detective would I be if I couldn’t track a white woman in Baltimore?”

n  THIS IS 2004 ALERT: Confessions Part II (because who ever listened to Part I) plays out on the streets of Baltimore

n  Confusing meta-television: Omar is shown watching “Law And Order: SVU.” On that show, Detective Richard Munch is a main character, as he also was on David Simon’s other show “Homicide.” Confusingly, he also makes a cameo appearance on “The Wire,” meaning that Omar is watching a show that has a fictional character who is also a real person in his own universe.

n  War on Terror Reference: Bubbles, wearing an oddly turban-like towel on his head, says its “about to be all Baghdad” in West Baltimore.

n  Thomas Carcetti, politician, watches videos of himself at home. Remember, he’s a politician, and he’s a politician…politician.

n  We get the first glimpse of Snoop in this episode, perhaps the show’s most horrifying character. She’s the little girl standing with Chris Partlow.

n  Fun fact, that probably has no business in this specific recap: Glynn Turman, who plays Mayor Royce, once was married to ARETHA FRANKLIN. Respect, indeed. Even more impressively, he was quite, quite nearly cast as Han Solo, but wasn’t due to the concerns of the interracial relationship he’d have with Princess Leia (which is, obviously, terrible, but such was America at that time). The more you know. 

The Wire: Straight and True (S3:E5)

“But if this everchanging world in which you live in / makes you give in and cry…”  

            If we allow for some odd meta-turning whereby a character of a show were allowed to watch that same show and choose his favorite episode, I think “Straight and True” might be Stringer’s favorite. Stringer, a student of economics, would love just how damned rational everyone is in this episode. Economics tells us that, under the right circumstances, people’s own rational self-interest will maximize utility (actually, it’s reach a Pareto optimal solution, but forget that for now). Important to this is cooperation, the creation of institutions that will benefit all and that all contribute to. It’s why Stringer dreams of creating the New Day Co-op: less violence and more money for all.

            Mr. Bell could not have predicted, however, that one of his biggest restraints, the police, would also act in such a cooperative spirit. They want less crime: Stringer, Bodie et al. want to deal drugs. Therefore, we have Bunny’s officially established territory of “Hamsterdam.” Libertarian paradise, as it is: legal drugs, and free-market competition. It feels odd (I don’t think we’ve seen Johnny as out of sorts as he is here, in spite of the fact that he’s normally on heroin), but it may work. We begin to see its flaws, the unaccounted for occupied homes, but nonetheless its worth a shot to Major Colvin…AS IT SHOULD BE TO THE GOVERNMENT OF THE USA cough cough.

            Jimmy McNulty would probably be a big fan of this episode as well. He gets to sleep with a beautiful woman (“Wait, we have an attractive, straight, smart female character on the political side of things, but we don’t want any romantic entanglements,” asked a hypothetical David Simon. “…Well, something McNulty’s kids something something school meeting something sex”), and gets back on Stringer’s tail (yeah, yeah “tail”). Of course, he only sees Omar meeting with Marlo: he doesn’t see the seeds sown for a new war between the two men. Marlo and Chris Partlow (his right-hand man) are mostly ciphers at this point, but they’re clearly malicious ciphers, and episodes this untragic are usually just prologue to future ones of a different nature.

             But this is a happy episode, so let the rejoicing continue. Bubbles realizes he can “do” better by working with the cops. It’s nice to see him rid himself, at least partially of unlucky Johnny, the character who easily wins the “Holy Crap, he’s not dead” award each time I see him. It’s also nice to see Avon released, given his own apartment, his own car, and generally being more active than in the past. Avon is a great character, much more than the gangster half of the Bell/Barksdale combo, but he needs to roam free to do it. He’s the definition of “street-smart,” calling out the two idiot soldiers for getting high at the club and remaining wary of Clay Davis etc.’s overtures. Welcome home, Avon, but stay weary. As Brianna reminds him, the real stuff comes tomorrow.

“I had such fucking hopes for us” – McNulty

Observation and What-Have-You’s

n  Prop Joe’s fade looks awesome. Stringer Bell’s tuxedo looks foolish. Just sayin.

n  “The Wire” learned something well in the casting department: when in doubt about an intimidating character, always, always opt for facial scars. It worked for Omar, and it sure as shit works for Marlo too.

n  Clay Davis: says “shiiiiiiiiiit” a whole lot less than you remember he does, for better or for worse.

n  The biggest perk of being a drug dealer is that they sure now how to find you women when you get out of prison. First Cutty, now Avon. The great thing about it is that it seems like the scene is going to just highlight Stringer’s detachment from the game…and then the escorts come in.

n  Yes, “Live and Let Die” uses “in” three times in one sentence.