And so ends my Wire experiment for this year. Sadly, despite my best efforts, I have failed to reach that elusive 500 mark and the prospect of arriving at Season 5 Episode 10 remains as distant as ever.

I started off with noble intentions. Over the years, man has built bridges, travelled to the moon and then did nothing for a bunch of years… Yet man has never undergone the gargantuan task of analysing each episode of The Wire individually – except for The Guardian who had to use a whole team of writers for this endeavour (losers!).

Anyhow, I was all set to alter the course of mankind when, after writing about two episodes, the novelty kind of wore off and the length of time which this task would require actually sunk in. Woopsies.

It was then that I realised that on top of writing about The Wire, I would also have to allocate time for: doing readings for my course work, writing essays, giving presentations, studying for my exam (I only had one this year), writing a 20,000 word thesis, typing these exact letters, writing other articles for this newspaper, writing for another website that shall remain nameless (and no, it wasn’t Playboy.com), doing actual work that I get paid for, going to see obscure foreign films, doing podcasts, staying up for 35 hours waiting to do podcasts, brushing my teeth… you probably get the picture if you haven’t stopped reading this by now.

Anyway, despite suffering the ignominy of not even reaching the preliminary stages for the Smedia Awards Blog of the Year nominations (damn you Fantasy Girls!), I still enjoyed myself and learned some valuable lessons. Sort of like a Scrubs episode if you were to discount the enjoyable element.

The following are some of the consequences of my 220 Days of Wire (God, that pun is so dated): 1. I have created the church of Omar. That man is now literally a God. 2. I never want to hear that Godforsaken bass-line (i.e. the one that plays over and over for the DVD options list on the season 1 discs) ever again. 3. I have acquired a compulsion to refer to the gardaí as the Poh-lice, to say ‘sheeeeeeit’ whenever misfortune befalls me, to always refer to my house in Dundrum as ‘the motherfuckin projects’, to study economics intensively so I can be more like Stringer Bell, to constantly make reference to ‘the game’ without ever really knowing what this means, to drink nothing but Jameson and listen only to The Pogues, to wake up every morning and immediately say in a suitably wry tone of voice: ‘I still wake up white in a city that ain’t’, to regard all poh-lice as inherently corrupt and to presume all criminals are really quite amiable and fun-loving – not to mention super intelligent, to constantly refer to my Observer colleagues as ‘ma niggas’ and finally, to automatically describe anyone who criticises me or my religion as a ‘punk-ass motherfucker’. 4. I have decided to stop writing about The Wire because frankly, this behaviour is beginning to disturb me like the ghost of Stringer Bell (Ha! I warned you there’d be spoilers).

But before I go, I’d just like to thank my fan for all his support, Catriona and Gav for letting me write the blog (and for picking such terrible fantasy teams – PS: please don’t edit this), Santa for buying me all five seasons of The Wire on DVD, those legions of irritating people who originally kept telling me to watch The Wire and making me feel as if suicide was the only other option, Stringer, Bunk and of course, Omar for being awesome, Rhonda for being awesome and sexy, McNulty’s ex-wife for being sexy (though not particularly awesome), my head for not exploding at the sheer thought of having to write on all 5 seasons of The Wire, that one image (pictured above for the umpteenth time) which I was continually able to rely on, The Sopranos for helping me get through my post-Wire withdrawal symptoms and Michael McSweeney for leaving a negative comment on the blog despite admitting to only having read ‘one paragraph’ of it (all publicity is good publicity).

Anyhow, my moment of true disillusionment came last Friday when I saw Stringer Bell talking to that epitome of effortlessly hip and cutting-edge television, Jonathan Ross, in a rubbish English accent, while showcasing some incredibly turgid looking drama in which he is now starring. Oh Stringer, you used to be cool.

Rant over.

“We are of the other America or the America that has been left behind in the postindustrial age. We don’t live in L.A. or go to their parties; we don’t do what we do to try to triumph in the world of television entertainment by having a bona fide hit, and meeting the pretty people and getting the best table at the Ivy. Shit, the last time George and I went to the Ivy on a road trip, we waited forty-five minutes for a table and then were announced as “The Pelican party.” We don’t belong there and we don’t need the kind of money or the level of zeitgeist required to belong there.”

An underlying bitterness, as reflected by David Simon’s statement above, has always been noticeable in The Wire’s subtext. This bitterness stems from the rather harsh circumstances in which many of its characters feel they have been forced into living.

Detective Rawls is perhaps the shows most vivid incarnation of world-weariness. When one of his subordinates inquires if he is being ‘f*cked over’, on account of the characteristically severe treatment which Rawls dispenses, the cantankerous detective responds with a venomous riposte: “When I f*ck you over you’ll know. You won’t need to even ask the goddamn question,” he states caustically.

It is therefore ironic that – despite the multitude of characters who come from impoverished backgrounds and often represent the most virulent forms of criminality imaginable – it is Rawls (a white, middle-class law enforcer) who arguably possesses the most abundant disdain of humanity of all the show’s characters.

And essentially, the core reason behind Rawls’ endless frustration lies in the perpetual fruitlessness of working in a police department without making headway in criminal cases. His frustration undoubtedly mirrors similar feelings experienced by Messrs Simon and Burns in their previous jobs, where they worked in journalism and policing respectively.   

Stringer Bell – the show’s criminal overlord – contrasts with Rawls in several ways that viewers would not initially assume. In another savagely ironic twist, he appears to be quite well-adjusted and psychologically at-ease in comparison with Rawls and many of the show’s other less immoral figures.

For instance, one scene depicts Stringer as an academic achiever. He receives the results of his college Economics exam, in which his professor congratulates him on an impressive A- grade. In another scene, Stringer is shown in dialogue with D’Angelo’s ex-girlfriend (Donette). The two are shown to be engaged in a lust-driven relationship, unbeknownst to the incarcerated D’Angelo.

Donette is clearly besotted by Stringer. Yet this feeling is by no means mutual. It soon becomes apparent to the viewer that Stringer is manipulating Donette in order to acquire information pertaining to D’Angelo, who has unwisely elected to confide in his ex. Consequently, the situation amounts to a dual double-crossing in which Stringer’s callousness prevails.

Therefore, Stringer exudes a disarming level of intelligence and charm – thanks in no small part to the adroit acting skills of Idris Elba. These two traits alone, Simon implies, are enough for a person to thrive in this tragedy imbued Baltimorean society. This status, whereby morals are devalued, is what makes the society so flawed and what causes Stringer’s ignominiousness to be overlooked. Thus, a framework is in place for unsavoury individuals such as Stringer to thrive.

Ultimately, for all Rawls’ anger and bitterness, he is at least palpably human. Stringer’s sheer apathy for human life allows the character to embrace a laid-back, guilt-free lifestyle. In other words, Stringer leads a lifestyle which all people – to some extent – secretly covet.

Hence, Stringer is invariably cited as people’s favourite character, as viewers are unwittingly seduced by a combination of all the aforementioned factors. This scenario which Simon – ever the moral arbiter – presents and paradoxically protests, is one that he ultimately accepts as inescapable. 

Random Facts:

1. The character of The Greek is not actually of Greek origin.
2. Paul Schreiber who plays the character of Nick Sobotka has also appeared in films including The Manchurian Candidate and Lords of Dogtown.
3. According to David Simon, the character of Ziggy is based on a real-life stevedore who, according to legend, also took his duck to the bar and had a penchant for exposing himself in public.
4. Cheese Wagstaff, who appears in this episode for the first time, originally was given the name Calvin before it was subsequently changed to Melvin.
5. Additionally, Wagstaff is played by the acclaimed rapper Method Man.

Best Quote: “Yo dickhead, where you been at?” Not an especially significant quote in isolation, but one which serves to re-familiarise the viewer with the playful banter that encapsulates Herc and Carver’s relationship – an always welcome element to the show which had been sadly lacking in season two up until this point.

Best Scene: McNulty smirks wryly as Omar refuses to co-operate with the lawyer – he just cannot help being enamoured with the affable vigilante.

New Characters:  Cheese Wagstaff and Frog.

 WTF Moment: The incredible attention and interest which Stringer’s men display as he teaches them the intricacies of the economic knowledge that he has acquired from his college course.

“In order for television to become a grown-up medium and say grown-up things, you had to get rid of the advertising. There’s a premium – you’re going to have to pay admission, but we’re not going to try to sell you anything other than story itself. The first 50 or 60 years of television was really the infancy. There was a reason it was an inferior medium to film. Film didn’t have to leave you every 12 minutes so that you would buy Lincoln Continentals and iPods and blue jeans and feminine hygiene products. The advent of premium cable and the banishment of advertising has created the possibility of TV as a medium having real ambition as an art form.”

“Cinematic” is a word that is often attached to The Wire and as the above quote attests, David Simon was clearly fixated with the idea of allowing his show to acquire filmic propensities. And “Hard Cases” exemplifies the qualities which separate The Wire from mainstream television shows – namely: in its emphasis on the image rather than spoken word.

The episode, appropriately enough, begins with a shot of Frank Sobotka’s grim, funereal face. He stares contemplatively from the harbour out into the ocean in one of several moments of obvious lyricism – a characteristic which seems more accentuated in the second series than any other season of the show.

Moreover, it is obvious why Simon appears so enamoured with Chris Bauer – the actor that plays Frank Sobotka. Bauer’s face is capable of conveying a range of emotions and its ability to exude tragedy renders him perfect for his role as the archetypal everyman. Sobotka – owing largely to the consummate expressiveness of Bauer’s veneer – unquestionably invokes the viewers’ sympathy and comes across as the greatest character Arthur Miller never wrote.         

Another subtle touch in which the image is telling involves Nick and his on-off girlfriend, Aimee. They awake looking haggard as the former character arises from his stupor, while the latter complains of having to constantly sleep in “his folks’ basement”.

Although the scene appears relatively insignificant in isolation, it is crucial within the context of the overall narrative arc. Viewers who watch the show carefully will notice several scenes in which Nick – in particular – along with other characters, are shown lying in bed, or in other lugubriously passive states.

The source of characters’ boredom, their frustration and their deep unhappiness lies in their frequent, enforced inactivity. “You try living on five or six days a month and see how fast it puts you on your ass,” as Nick complains to Frank after he is rebuked for engaging in illegal dealings with the Greeks.

Hence, the scene of Nick arising gingerly from his tiny bed and slowly leaving his cluttered room serves as a metaphor for the disorder and poverty which dominates his life. Employment is seemingly impossible for him to obtain on a regular basis on account of the city’s dwindling (incidentally, pre-credit crunch) economy, thus making his situation all the more frustrating. Consequently, in the recurring image of the messy, unmade bed lies a symbol of his frustration and an explanation as to why this seemingly decent human being would be willing to resort to negotiating with thugs like the Greeks. 

This sense of boredom does not confine itself to the dock-workers’ lives – it affects the police department too. After both Kima and Daniels agree to eschew their lawyerly ambitions and continue working cases, they organise a joint dinner whereby they break the news to their respective spouses.

The ensuing scene plays out with no dialogue and to a background of classical music, thereby eliciting an aura of skewed humour. In other words, the image oversees the story for the umpteenth occasion as the camera frantically cuts from one face to another while dinner is consumed in silence, amidst an atmosphere of evident tension. The non-police officer spouses are clearly unhappy at their other halves’ mutual decision and eventually leave the table acrimoniously. Yet most tellingly, their partners’ decisions are due to their inability to cope with a life outside the police department, a life – like Nick’s – which is ridden with boredom as they see it.  

Finally, a crucial moment occurs when Bunk and Lester pay an unexpected visit to the local bar. They interrupt Frank, who is drinking casually, and question him about the dead bodies discovered on the docks. Frank ostensibly stands firm under this pressure, vehemently dismissing any wrongdoing on his part. He then quickly departs to the bathroom. As he looks in the mirror, it becomes apparent – much to the viewers surprise given his tough-talking tendencies – that Frank has been shaken by this encounter, as his quivering face and nervous demeanour indicates.    

Therefore, the episode ends as it begun – with a static shot highlighting the pensive image of Frank Sobotka’s palpably humane, intensely tragic features.  

 Random Facts:

1. The average viewership for this episode was 4.33 million, making it the fifth most watched US cable television programme during the week that it was broadcast.
2. Chris Bauer is a HBO regular, having featured in two of the channel’s other shows – Life on Mars and True Blood.
3. “Hard Cases” seemingly refers to the fourteen arduous cases to which Bunk, Beadie and Lester are assigned to oversee.
4. McNulty’s inveterately pigheaded ways are not entirely fantastical. In fact, David Simon admits that the character was partly inspired by the behaviour of the show’s co-creator – Ed Burns – during his days working as a police officer. He reveals how: “[Burns] would often pull himself out of the rotation and go to wiretap cases. He had a hard time convincing the department that the methodology was not only sound, but that it should be replicated. I watched him during the last half of his career hit his head against the wall trying to get the police brass to have a little bit of ambition. There’s a lot of Burns in McNulty.”
5. The episode marks the first time that Andre Royo (Bubbles) has appeared in the second series.
     

Best Quote: “You ain’t gonna play that country shit, I hate that country shit.” Bunk chastises Horseface’s taste in music and simultaneously establishes his territory in the local bar by taking charge of the jukebox.

Best Scene: A scene which would be more appropriately described as McNulty in microcosm. He listens – with a relatively casual demeanour – to a series of cantankerous messages on his answering machine, each one beseeching McNulty’s indolence as a result of the various misdemeanours that he has committed.   

New Characters: Maui and Louis Sobotka.

WTF Moment: Ziggy again illustrates his odd sense of humour (to put it mildly) by taking a picture of his genitals, before secretly uploading it onto Maui’s computer.

“When we took a chainsaw to the first season, choosing to begin the second story arc with an entirely different theme and different characters, you followed us to the port and our elegy for America’s working class… And when we ended the Barksdale arc and began an exploration of public education, you were, by that time, elated to understand that whatever else might happen, The Wire would not waste your time telling the same story twice.”

David Simon’s letter of gratitude to the fans amid the series’ conclusion emphasised the show’s originality. Indeed, many commentators have described it as one of the most innovative television dramas ever made. Equally, there have been a few detractors of the programme. The Guardian’s Grace Dent, for instance, complained that watching The Wire was sometimes “a slog”. So how original is the show and is its radical approach always a virtue?

The first scene of “Hot Shots” certainly appears quite unique. Two women (Kimmy and Tosha) are shown robbing some male street dwellers at gunpoint. And shortly before they depart with a substantial amount of cash, one of them declares: “Sorry it’s gonna have to go down like this baby, cos your ass is cute.”

The lack of sensationalism and casual violence displayed in the scene would surely prove startling for first-time viewers. However, long time fans of the show could potentially react to this scene with apathy, as its skewed treatment of such a dramatic moment is – by this stage – a staple characteristic of The Wire.

Moreover, consider the scene where Nick’s ex-girlfriend (and the mother of his child), Aimee, is giving him a haircut. She suggests that Nick acquires a purple streak in his hair. Nick dismisses this proposal, sarcastically asserting: “Yeah, and right after that I’ll just stick my tongue up some guy’s ass.”

Similar to the situation with the show’s distinctive brand of drama, there is a possible risk that viewers may also grow tired of its endless profanities and gritty dialogue.

The Wire, despite its laudable tendency to focus on a different sector of society in each season, ultimately maintained the exact same basic premise throughout – the corruption inherent to institutions. Furthermore, it stuck to the story of each season fairly rigidly. Therefore, some critics may accuse it of lacking the capacity to surprise once its modus operandi has been established. Conversely, The Sopranos, which Simon admitted to being influenced by, demonstrated a constant tendency to indulge in ambitious narrative anomalies. One episode of the mob drama, for instance, solely comprised of a dream sequence.     

Yet one of the aspects that prevents The Wire from turning stale is the manner in which the creators manage to consistently execute each scene so perfectly. In one instance during “Hot Shots”, Jay Landsman gently chides Beadie for wearing clothes which he considers inappropriate for a woman in the office.

Landsman’s frequently coarse behaviour is usually offset by the incredibly eloquent language he uses – in this instance, to express his disapproval of Beadie’s fashion sense. Actor Delaney William’s delivery and comic timing is as meticulously consummate as ever, as he somehow makes Landsman’s trivial intransigence seem charming.

In addition, I would argue that The Wire does indeed display a capacity to surprise the viewer – merely in a different manner to other much praised dramas such as The Sopranos. The Wire – as the viewer will soon witness with D’Angelo’s murder – is perhaps the only television show ever to kill off several of its most popular characters at will and more importantly, at the behest of fundamental plot requirements. In other words, unlike in rival programmes, the story – rather than the stars – comes first in The Wire. Even The Sopranos, great as it was, failed to emulate this refreshing approach.

Thus, due to such innovation, The Wire will undoubtedly have an enormous effect on television for years to come – in fact, its pervasive influence is already discernible within the contemporary cinematic stratum.

In this episode, McNulty is shown tirelessly trying to ascertain details surrounding the brutal mass murder that occurred in the season premiere. He perseveres in attempting to unlock the complexities of the case, despite the fact that he has not been assigned to work on it and thus, he is under no obligation whatsoever to engage in these activities.

However, McNulty – as has been noted numerous times on this blog already – possesses an addictive personality. He is plainly addicted to the thrill and feeling of danger which detective work invariably entails. And tellingly, this episode was broadcast a full six years before the extremely similarly-themed The Hurt Locker would be released in cinemas. The film’s protagonist, in particular, exhibits some very McNulty-esque proclivities for conflict. Therefore, perhaps Katherine Bigelow should have thanked David Simon in her Oscar acceptance speech, as his show’s immense originality becomes more apparent by the day. 

Random Facts:

1. Series 2 of The Wire was the first major American drama since Elia Kazan’s 1954 film, On the Waterfront, to explore the lives of dock workers in detail. As a result, the two works bear a significant resemblance towards each other – especially because of their mutual sympathy for the deprived longshoremen and willingness to expose the corruption which habitually permeates the docks. 
2. According to the William Burroughs’ novel Junkie, the “hot shots” referred to in the episode’s title are drugs that have been spiked with poison, normally in order to kill a police informant.
3. The episode, in addition to being written by David Simon and Ed Burns, was the first of two to be helmed by the seasoned television director: Elodie Keene. She also oversees the very next episode – “Hard Cases” – incidentally.
4. The bar scene in this episode constitutes the ninth time in which McNulty has been shown drinking so far over the course of the show’s history.
5. McNulty’s kids’ Lord of the Rings-oriented argument is one of the more obvious literary allusions in The Wire.

Best Quote: “I am asking you man, out of love. It’s always love D.” Avon’s remarks to D’Angelo acquire considerable irony in light of the latter character’s impending murder.

Best Scene: Omar’s long overdue reappearance, as he demonstrates his trademark aura of effortless cool. He confronts two female criminals with gun in hand, while imparting the immortal words: “Spread the word darlin’ – Omar back.”

New Characters: Dante (Omar’s boyfriend), Aimee, Butchie, Ringo, Kimmy, Tosha.

WTF Moment: Ziggy’s inexplicable need to take a photo, or a “Kodak moment” as he puts it, following their successful negotiations to sell cameras illegally to the Greeks. George Glekas, infuriated by Ziggy’s churlish behaviour, takes his camera and smashes it to the ground.  

“It’s one thing to recognize capitalism for the powerful economic tool it is and to acknowledge that, for better or for worse, we’re stuck with it and, hey, thank God we have it. There’s not a lot else that can produce mass wealth with the dexterity that capitalism can. But to mistake it for a social framework is an incredible intellectual corruption and it’s one that the West has accepted as a given since 1980 – since Reagan.”

The corruption to which David Simon refers permeates practically every scene of “Collateral Damage”. It is corruption which is evident in numerous forms, from an emotional standpoint to an institutional one. Officer Valchek, in particular, has a tendency to exhibit a strong level of moral ambiguity.

In one scene, Valchek and Frank Sobotka engage in verbal joust. Sobotka clearly triumphs in this heated exchange. He is angry at Valchek for impinging on his territory following the discovery of thirteen dead bodies in the docks.

Sobotka thus lambasts Valchek, affirming: “My old man always said you were a half-ass punk over at Holy-Redeemer as a kid. And my sister said you were a pain in the ass pest at all those CYO dances where none of the girls would even look at you… And sure enough you’ve been an official asshole every day since.”

Sobotka has made his argument with Valchek personal. And since it is Valchek who has the law on his side, there is bound to be only one winner. In a scene shortly thereafter, Valchek is shown instructing his men to go after Sobotka and “all his associates”. When asked for an explanation as to why he seeks to pursue this avenue, Valchek responds by admitting it is merely because he considers Sobotka to be “an asshole”. The scene illustrates Valchek’s distinct lack of professionalism. Yet given his prominence in the department, the officers obey this decision without protest.

The episode constitutes a stark example of why the show merits its bleak reputation. The sheer cynicism which greets the deaths of the thirteen women is palpable. In contrast with the clear shock that the inexperienced Beadie shows upon witnessing the deaths, one of her seasoned fellow officers drolly informs her: “All you’ve got here, Officer Russell, is a lot of paperwork.”

Similarly, the theme of such an overwhelming loss of human life being secondary to a character’s individual concerns is demonstrated by Sobotka’s reaction to the fatalities. “On my docks, this happened!” he shouts at the Greek, who apologises to him for this “mistake”. In other words, Sobotka only considers how the incident is detrimental to him personally. The fact that several young women have died is incidental.

Rawls’ reaction more or less mirrors Sobotka’s. His primary concern is where the actual deaths took place, showing little sensitivity for other details. He tries to claim they occurred outside the jurisdiction of Baltimore city, as they ostensibly happened at sea. Rawls only displays any hint of emotion when it is proven that the incident did indeed take place in his vicinity, thereby leaving him responsible for the ensuing investigation and ensuring an ample amount of paperwork must be taken care of.

Even McNulty, the show’s supposed hero, engages in some rather disreputable behavior. While viewers will at this stage be familiar with his incessant drinking and proclivity to ignore “the chain of command”, his treatment of Rhonda constitutes a new low.

After drunkenly spending the night with her, Rhonda inquires about the status of their relationship the following morning. McNulty responds by revealing that he is planning a reunion with his estranged wife. A shocked Rhonda dashes out of the room as a look of intense sadness permeates her features. McNulty, unaware of her pain and purely focused on alleviating his hangover, casually shouts: “You got any aspirin?”

Ironically, given his many personal failings and his tendency to engage in callous behavior –especially in his relationships with women – McNulty is one of the characters most impervious to institutional (if not personal) corruption. Thus, it is on such paradoxes that the show’s greatness lies.  

Random Facts:

1. This episode suffered a 21% reduction in viewership figures from the season premiere.
2. It is the first episode which focuses on Ervin Borrell’s promotion to acting commissioner.
3. David Simon has explained that the Greek is one of few characters who appear entirely unsympathetic from the viewer’s perspective, as he represents “capitalism in its purest form”.
4. Season 2 generally tends to be the most divisive among fans of The Wire, with many proclaiming it to be their favourite and others considering it to be the weakest of the five.
5. The song which features in this episode is “Goodbye to Carolina” by Lyle Lovett.

Best Quote: “He f*cked with my fish though. He ain’t have to go there man.” Wee-Bey shows his child-like side, moaning about the police officer’s poor treatment of his beloved pet.

Best Scene: A Turkish character, who the Greek’s crew captures, admits to his involvement in the deaths of the thirteen women. Despite promises made to the contrary, he is brutally murdered once he imparts this vital information. His strangling is one of the most gruesome and vividly portrayed deaths in the show’s history. Moreover, the decision to end the episode on this scene once again emphasised the dearth of redemption which characterises the show.

New Characters: Mike McArdle, Andy Krawczyk, Officer Dwight Tilghman.

WTF Moment: “Careful, you’re giving me an erection.” So says McNulty to Bunk amid drunken joking, thus showing how drunken joking is normally quite unfunny and invariably lewd.

“You know, sometimes people in West Baltimore say to me, about Season 2, “We know you tried to take our show white, but it didn’t work—then you came back to us.” And I have to say, “Dawg, no. The second season was the most watched season.” A lack of audience is not why we left it behind.”

Simon’s comments on season 2 of The Wire are telling in the sense that they once again reaffirm his utter disinterest in its viewership figures. Serving the purpose of the story was always his primary concern – a supposition that is confirmed by the consistent and prolonged nature of its vast storylines – narratives which often recur throughout the sixty episodes.

However, fans could be forgiven for being slightly taken aback by the early developments in the second season. Everything has changed rather drastically – most notably the version of the theme tune, which is now sung by Tom Waits.

Nonetheless just as the theme tune is the same song performed by a different musician in each season, the themes which dominated season 1 remain unmistakably prevalent thereafter, notwithstanding the array of new characters that suddenly feature.

The institutional corruption that characterises the police department is again underlined. In one of the very first scenes, Valchek assures his cousin – the virtuous but unerringly incompetent Officer Pryzbylewski – that he will secure the job of sergeant imminently “so long as he keeps his mouth shut”.

Prez, growing more dignified and admirable by the episode, rejects Valchek’s tempting offer, expressing a desire to engage purely in “working cases”. In other words, Prez is an anomaly in the world of Baltimore. Basically, he is someone who primarily pursues his passions; as opposed to simply being concerned with self-preservation and ascending the ranks of the institution – like most other characters in the show.

Prez’s situation also coincides to some extent (just like the circumstances facing D’Angelo and McNulty were ingeniously congruent in season one) with the scenario facing the dock worker Ziggy. As is the case with Prez, Ziggy is prone to idiocy. Moreover, his numerous inadequacies are also tolerated largely on account of nepotism.

The scene in which Ziggy is introduced illustrates how he is often indulged by others, because of his superior social standing. After committing one of his soon-to-be characteristic misdemeanours, Frank Sobotka lambasts Ziggy: “Don’t you ever come back, you hear me Ziggy. You’re fired!” When an onlooker expresses surprise at Ziggy’s apathy upon receiving this news, a fellow dock-worker explains the situation to him: “He ain’t fired man, that’s his father.” Unlike Prez though, Ziggy is more or less devoid of redeeming features.

Therefore, in the very first scene involving Ziggy, his essence is exquisitely captured. He is utterly feckless, presumably due to the fact that he has never struggled to earn a living. Everything has been handed to him by his father and thus, he evidently fails to appreciate such good fortune. He is the archetypal derisory figure of classic tragedy, á la Frado in The Godfather, whose lackadaisical and vacuous nature ultimately proves their undoing.

Yet the foremost purpose of Ziggy’s introductory scene is not to summarise his character, or even to underscore the parallels which exist between himself and Prez – though these factors are still important elements of what is being conveyed. The scene serves mainly to accentuate The Wire’s predominant underlying theme – the inherent corruption of all institutions.

Just like the Police Department ignores Prez’s considerable flaws on account of the whims of one self-serving individual (Valchek), the dock is continually plighted by Ziggy’s perpetual mishaps owing to his father’s tireless persistence with him. Consequently, just as he has shown with the Police Department – and as he will demonstrate with the schools, the newspapers and the political system – Simon portrays the docks in unflinchingly unfavourable light, constantly avowing the fraudulence of its machinations.

Simon also elucidates this aforementioned point when he states, in relation to the show’s writers, how: “In our heads we’re writing a Greek tragedy, but instead of the gods being petulant and jealous Olympians hurling lightning bolts down at our protagonists, it’s the postmodern institutions that are the gods. And they are gods. And no one is bigger.”

Hence in season 2 of The Wire, the more things change; the more they stay the same.

Random Facts:

1. This is the first episode where William Rawls is referred to as a colonel.
2. The song playing during the bar scene is “Sixteen Tons” by The Nighthawks.
3. Along with retaining its principal cast from season 1, the first episode of season 2 introduces the viewer to a total of 26 new characters. No wonder some people complained that it was difficult to keep up with the show’s proceedings.
4. The title of the episode, “Ebb Tide”, places an emphasis on how the fortunes of many of the programme’s characters – such as Kima and McNulty – have hit a low point.
5.  The episode features the fourteenth occasion in which a murder, or in this case a series of murders, takes place.

Best Quote: A fellow officer asks McNulty: “Guess who I found puking his guts out this morning?” McNulty immediately responds: “Bunk Moreland!” The officer thus inquires how he managed to guess correctly. For long-term viewers of The Wire, the answer to the officer’s query needs no explanation.

Best Scene: The final scene when Beadie discovers the array of dead female bodies, before attracting the attentions of others. The show again unveils its cinematic qualities, as the scene is developed mainly through images and in particular, close-ups of various characters’ expressions, thereby eliminating the need for much dialogue. The acting, needless to say at this stage, is supremely consummate from all concerned.

New Characters: Far too many to mention, but Beadie, the Sobotkas and the Greek are among the most important ones.

WTF Moment: Amidst a rowdy, packed bar, the female bartender warns a drunken Ziggy: “You’re not taking your dick out here again.” Much to her (and the viewer’s) dismay, he ignores this reasonable request.

“At the end of thirteen episodes, the reward for the viewer – who has been lured all this way by a well constructed police show – is not the simple gratification of hearing handcuffs click. Instead, the conclusion is something that Euripides or O’Neill might recognise: an America, at every level at war with itself.”

The prevailing theme inherent to episode 13 of The Wire is the idea that nothing has really changed since episode 1. This concept is demonstrated both literally and figuratively through some clever visual and plotting devices.

The cyclical nature of life in Baltimore is illustrated through numerous means. The Barksdale story began in court in episode 1 and it also ends there (at least as far as season 1 is concerned) too.

Moreover, there are countless similarities with the two respective court scenes which bookend the season. McNulty looks back at Stringer Bell in both scenes before electing to walk out of the court in utter indignation due, on both occasions, to the failure of the law to punish members of the Barksdale organisation with appropriate severity.

In addition, in episode 1, McNulty says only one line of dialogue to Stringer when it becomes clear that D’Angelo is set to evade arrest: “Nicely done.” In contrast with this scene, in “Sentencing”, Stringer utters the exact same comment to McNulty when it is ascertained that he has ensured that Avon will be spending a prolonged period behind bars.

Furthermore, the episode ends with brief bits of dialogue from arguably the show’s two most iconoclastic characters – McNulty and Omar – which provide brief insights into their altering fortunes. McNulty walks out of court, moaning in his typically perplexed manner: “Jesus, what the f*ck did I do?”

Meanwhile, a disguised Omar reveals himself to a drug dealer and subsequently points a gun to the dealer’s head. Before the scene cuts off and he presumably kills the dealer, Omar gleefully reiterates the series’ fatalistic phrase one last time: “All in the game yo, all in the game.”

Although both McNulty’s and Omar’s aforementioned lines of dialogue seem insignificant in isolation, they are crucial within the context of the thirteen hours of television that has preceded them. Specifically, they reinforce the themes which have dominated season 1.

In relation to “the game”, various characters have made reference to the idea that the drug war is essentially a tactical battle whereby strict regulations must be followed regardless of what “side” a character is on. Moreover, the fact that Omar is the last person to advocate this concept is ironic, given that he is the one character who fails to abide by the system’s constraints. He eschews both sides of the law and instead opts to act as a vigilante, thereby electing to make his own rules and disowning “the game” in the process.

McNulty is, bizarrely enough, perhaps the character who most resembles Omar owing to his independent spirit. Yet he obviously does not allow himself to ignore all of society’s rules, thus ensuring that he must conform to some degree to the whims of the institution – hence, his repeated, frustrated cry of “Jesus, what the f*ck did I do?”   

This exquisite reinforcement of the blurring of cop and criminal boundaries is a fitting conclusion to this wonderfully plotted first season. Furthermore, the repetition intrinsic to its appeal can perhaps be attributed to the inspiration which Simon admits to deriving from Eugene O’Neill – another well known exponent of this predominantly literary device.                 

And regardless of whether casual viewers grasped all of the first series’ many subtle plot developments, there is no mistaking the underlying anger that Simon conveys in the conclusive frames. The customary end of season montage – in conjunction with a stirring rendition of “Step by Step” by Jesse Winchester – exposes the immense flaws which continually pervade American society.

The montage reveals recurring images of drug deals taking place, a shot of Stringer casually relaxing in his office and a disenchanted McNulty being forced to undertake a new job patrolling the harbour.

All the concluding imagery constitutes – to a greater or lesser degree – a form of societal indictment, attesting to an utterly corrupt and ineptly functioning land, an “America, at every level at war itself at every level”. Tellingly, this final episode aired almost exactly one year after the September 11^th attacks.

The episode also posits the assertion that there is little hope of such scenarios ever changing, given that characters such as Bodie have filled the vacancy left by other criminals’ incarceration – an analysis from which the show has doubtless acquired its bleak reputation.   

Random Facts:

1. The critics’ previews of this episode were unanimously rapturous, with The St Petersburg Times describing it as the conclusion to one of “the freshest, most innovative, most entertaining series of the summer”. However many commentators correctly predicted that it would garner low viewership on account of the show’s unusual structure.
2. The Guardian went a step further, interpreting the episode as an uncanny evocation of the work of novelists such as Theodore Dreiser and Stephen Crane due to its expert use of repetition.
3. After watching the first season, Martin O’Malley – the real-life Mayor of Baltimore – threatened to prevent further filming of the series from occurring in Baltimore due to the show’s negative portrayal of the city.
4. This episode was directed by Tim Van Patten, an Emmy winner who has also worked on every season of The Sopranos.
5. The series was named best TV show of 2002 by TIME Magazine shortly after its first season aired.

Best Quote: “You do not play the game for yourself, you play it for us.” Rawls’ umpteenth condemnation of McNulty’s behaviour is at once an accurate assessment of his flawed nature and an extraordinarily hypocritical pronouncement, in light of both his and the department’s self serving approach at the expense of “good police work”.

Best Scene: D’Angelo’s interrogation scene is further evidence of the season’s cyclical nature, given that a similar scene also occurred earlier in the series. Additionally, it is the point where his narrative approaches its logical denouement – in which he sheds all pretence of sympathising with Avon, whilst reflecting morosely on life on the streets of Baltimore: “You live with this sh*t until you can’t breathe no more.”

New Characters: None

WTF Moment: The judicial system’s covert willingness to be lenient with the Barksdale organisation if they help them uncover political corruption – a scene so surreal that it could only be based on reality.

“The grand theme here is nothing less than a national existentialism: It is a police story set amid the dysfunction and indifference of an urban department – one that has failed to come to terms with the permanent nature of urban drug culture, one in which thinking cops, and thinking street players, must make their way independent of simple explanations.”

David Simon’s outline for The Wire was unique in its emphasis on “thinking street players”. One of the perpetual inadequacies of much TV drama is that the villainous characters are often shown to be either fundamentally oafish or wildly eccentric. The joker from the Batman television series is one clear example that springs to mind.

The Wire subverts some of the stereotypes traditionally associated with TV villains. Both Stringer and Avon are highly calculated and consistently unemotional in their behaviour. They are not much different to other corrupt characters with more societal clout, such as Carcetti and Maurice Levy. They are all constantly scheming whilst trying to preserve the efficiency of their organisation.

Moreover, like some of the shows’ more esteemed individuals, these characters are seldom involved in violence, but are rarely blameless in such incidences either. The same can be said – to a lesser extent – about characters such as Levy, who in no way help to alleviate the various injustices that are endemic in Baltimorean society.

In this episode, the viewer sees Stringer and Avon assessing their current situation with the utmost degree of care. They examine each individual linked with their organisation and weigh up the threat which they pose and the likelihood of their “snitching” to the police. Eventually, Stringer orders Bodie to kill Wallace, ignoring the contrary wishes of D’Angelo in the process.

What Simon seems to be asking, by virtue of the fact that he elects to portray the criminals as intelligent, is: why did they not choose to put their talents to better use? Why do they feel the need to resort to a lifetime of criminality? This theme is not comprehensively explored until season 4, which focuses on the school system and how kids acquire criminal instincts. For now, the viewer must be content with less intricate explanations such as their desire to possess power and acquire social status.   

Conversely, not all criminals are depicted as being intensively hardened and lacking feeling. Larry Gilliard Jr gives one of his finest performances in this episode, conveying the reluctance and apprehension which haunts D’Angelo during his criminal activities. Yet the utter disbelief and anger with which he greets the news of Wallace’s death is a pertinent demonstration of his inveterate naivety.

The said scene, in which Wallace is slain, is executed with equal mastery. Bodie is hardly ever shown to display more vulnerability than in this moment. The usually suave nature of his character causes viewers to forget the fact that he is merely sixteen years of age. Hence, the psychological pain which killing Wallace elicits in him becomes evident. Bodie’s noticeable discomfort is effectively demonstrated by the close-up of his shaking hand, as he struggles to pull the trigger on the gun.

Furthermore, the cops’ morality is far from black and white. The continual confrontations between Borrell and Daniels are the most tacit example of the departments’ unsavoury elements. Specifically, Borrell threatens to uncover “dirt” on Daniels unless the latter character agrees to ignore the misdemeanours of prominent figures with important political affiliations. Yet Daniels, despite the risk it poses to his career ambitions, refuses to accept Borrell’s orders.

Indeed the situation confronting Daniels is not dissimilar to the dilemma facing D’Angelo. Both characters are faced with a quandary in which the more moral decision is the one which conflicts with their self-preserving instincts. In other words, if Daniels continues to defy Borrell, he will ruin his chances of ascending the ranks of the police department. Meanwhile, D’Angelo knows that if he implicates his compatriots for their various crimes, his life will be in imminent danger.

Therefore, while D’Angelo and Daniels are different in several ways, the difficult but admirable decisions they eventually elect to take shows the underlying humanism which often dictates characters’ actions. This facet of the show seems to have been overlooked by many commentators who seem more intent on exploring the bleaker societal meditations which infuse its narrative.

Random Facts:

1. The episode title “Cleaning Up” shares its name with a 1925 film directed by Fatty Arbuckle.
2. This was the first episode written by George Pelecanos, the novelist who would go on to become an integral part of The Wire’s success.
3. The scene portraying Wallace’s demise was highly praised by critics. New York Magazine described it as “one of an overwhelmingly bleak show’s bleakest moments”, while MSNBC said it was “perhaps the most memorable (scene), and one that illustrates The Wire in microcosm”.
4. In this episode, the murdered body of Nakeesha Lyles is shown. The character was last seen testifying against the Barksdale organisation in episode 1. This elucidates the long attention span which the show requires of its viewer. 
5. The episode is one of three from the first season which are accompanied by commentaries on the DVD box set. The other two episodes in question are “The Target” and “The Detail”.

Best Quote: “You like the crib I put you in, right?” Avon provides a pertinent riposte to his sister’s reservations regarding his lifestyle.

Best Scene: The scene in which Avon is arrested encapsulates The Wire’s modus operandi. It is deliberately non-sensational and highly realistic. There is no dramatic confrontation and little discernible intensity evident – instead, Avon allows Daniels to handcuff him and he does not utter a single word during this procedure. Its visuals also echo Wallace’s death scene, however on this occasion characters are shown walking downstairs rather than upstairs.     

New Characters: Brianna Barksdale (D’Angelo’s mother)

WTF Moment: The image of Rawls comforting McNulty is nothing less than surreal.

“There’s a cynical bent to the political implications of the story. But as far as the story itself and the characters, I love these characters. I love the quote-end-quote bad guys, I love the quote-end-quote good guys. I love them for their flaws. I love them for their humour and their wit, for their ability to endure. I like to think of the show–and The Corner as well, and Homicide–as these humanist celebrations. They’re very much a celebration of the human spirit under pressure.”

Simon’s sentiments encapsulate one of the foremost reasons for the show’s enduring appeal. Regardless of their respective moral codes, characters such as McNulty, The Bunk and Stringer are ones which most viewers will grow to care about deeply.

“The Hunt” provides a series of intriguing insights into one of the most complex and fascinating relationships of the entire series – the unique dynamics perpetuated whenever Rawls and McNulty come into contact.

Up until this episode, Rawls comes across as one of the very few characters who seem to have no redeeming features whatsoever. He is an incredibly coarse and unsympathetic man who is largely concerned with preserving the dignity of the institution which he serves – an ideal which constantly comes at the expense of moral dignity.

However, Rawls reveals his compassionate side whilst consoling McNulty, who is utterly traumatised following Kima’s shooting. The scene in question contains the type of bravura dialogue for which The Wire is renowned. Its ingenuity lies in the fact that although Rawls is – for the first time ever in the series – showing due respect to the inconsolable McNulty (as opposed to lambasting him for his latest mishap), he perseveres in speaking to him in the manner that he normally would.

Rawls’ empathetic words are thus infused with his hilarious and inimitable brand of profanity which, Simon justifiably argues, contains a certain degree of poetry. In the course of delivering this speech, he assures McNulty that he should in no way accept any blame for what happened to Kima.

But rarely has cajolement been undercut with such thinly veiled contempt: “You, McNulty, are a gaping asshole,” he says. “We both know this. F*ck if everybody in CID doesn’t know it. But f*ck if I’m gonna stand here and say you did a single f*cking thing to get a police shot. You did not do this, you f*cking hear me? This is not on you.”

 Needless to say, any other TV show would not elect to let such an overtly virulent character act in this admirable manner. But this scene in many ways illuminates the crux of Rawls’ character. He is someone who has spent so long managing the type of heart-wrenching cases which police work often involves that he has become inherently cynical and virtually deadened emotionally.

Rawls is someone who is almost impervious to feeling. Consequently, he delivers his highly sensitive and understanding treatment of McNulty without being able to refrain from employing his customary caustic wit. His tendency to repress emotion is of course exacerbated by the later revelation that he is a closeted homosexual.

It is only natural that Rawls consistently clashes with McNulty, given that he conforms to his polar opposite in personality type. McNulty’s proclivity for wearing his heart on his sleeve is also emphasised during this episode – whether he is demonstrating his lack of respect for conniving, self-serving lawyers such as Maurice Levy, or drinking excessively while on duty, McNulty’s self-destructive, painfully human persona is rarely evinced more explicitly.

What’s also interesting is that McNulty never really attains complete respite from his inveterate alcoholism. In inferior shows, characters would either learn the error of their ways, or they would be punished for their weakness. McNulty merely continues to drink with abandon over the course of the five seasons, suffering from the demons which police work tends to elicit in him.

Yet, in conjunction with the aforementioned Simon quote, the viewer never ceases to care about the vulnerable McNulty, despite his infuriating failure to learn from his mistakes. There are several instances in “The Hunt” where he is either apoplectic or considerably depressed looking.

What’s being conveyed is the idea that McNulty is essentially too sensitive and emotional to be an entirely effective police officer, lacking the mental strength of a character such as Daniels. Therefore, he is unable to emotionally withstand the recurrent set backs and injustices that dominate police work. Yet his relentless drive and naive determination to somehow alleviate all of these ills are the facets which make him so ultimately compelling and engaging a character, so emblematic of “the human spirit under pressure”.

Random Facts:

1. The actor who played commissioner Warren Frazier (Dick Stillwell) tragically died in a car accident soon after this episode was shot.
2. This episode is the sixth time that McNulty is shown drunk.
3. In David Simon’s original plans for the show, McNulty was called McArdle and Avon Barksdale was referred to as Aaron Barksdale, while Stringer Bell was known as Stringy Belly.
4.  Furthermore, in the show’s original script, Simon actually planned to kill off Kima towards the end of season 1.
5. Some have criticised the portrayal of Maurice Levy – the corrupt lawyer who features prominently in this episode – as anti-Semitic, given his overt Jewishness. Nonetheless, David Simon (who incidentally also happens to be Jewish) has defended the character, claiming that during his 13 years covering the drug trade as a reporter: “most of major drug lawyers were Jewish”.

Best Quote: “Little Man gotta go.” Stringer demonstrates his sheer ruthlessness when dealing with subordinates who have acted erroneously.  

Best Scene: Cheryl spots the mark left from the felt tip pen with which Kima accidentally smeared their couch and subsequently breaks down. The relevance of the scene in question from a few episodes back is thus placed in a new context, elegantly expressing how even the smallest details remind Cheryl of her comatose lover. Consequently, the shows’ intelligent plotting is once again accentuated.

New Characters: None

WTF Moment: Wee-Bey solemnly ordering D’Angelo to take care of his fish while he travels to Philadelphia.

“Whether you’re a corner boy in West Baltimore, or a cop who knows his beat, or an Eastern European brought here for sex, your life is worthless. It’s the triumph of capitalism over human value. This country has embraced the idea that this is a viable domestic policy. It is. It’s viable for the few. But I don’t live in Westwood, L.A., or on the Upper West Side of New York. I live in Baltimore.”

Given the numerous interviews which David Simon has given following The Wire’s inception, in addition to the controversial quotes that frequently characterise them, one would assume that the said show would inevitably be didactic in tone. However, Simon’s political philosophy rarely manifests itself overtly during episodes. Instead, his intrinsic beliefs are consistently unveiled in an impressively subtle manner.

The first scene of ‘The Cost’ is a case in point due to its unassuming execution. Bubbles – looking characteristically haggard – observes the city’s various proceedings from a park bench. Everything he views appears decidedly humdrum: he watches an exchange of cash between two men (most likely involving drugs), a happy child blowing bubbles and two passers-by who greet him as they walk.

Nonetheless, most important of all are the voices that can be discerned from other people in the vicinity. A frustrated-sounding young mother can be heard telling her friend: “This is the second time this week we had to pay for a sitter.” Basically, she is struggling with the rigorous fiscal demands which her circumstances and ultimately, society in general, necessitates.   

Such a scene is not especially relevant in terms of the overall plotting of The Wire. Conversely though, it still manages to illuminate the show’s essence – namely, an insight into Baltimore and the flawed values it embraces (its unenviable economic situation and the toll which this takes on citizens et cetera).

As has been mentioned on several occasions already, it is not really a cops and robbers show, or at least not a traditional one. McNulty notwithstanding, there is no central lead character in the show – the main character is actually Baltimore itself. Therefore, the scene in question elegantly reinforces this concept, with its pithy presentation of the countless shapes and sounds – and more pertinently – the quandaries that constitute life in the area.

Furthermore, the scene exemplifies why the show is often regarded as novelistic. It is at once meticulously detailed, beautifully understated and possessing of the type of narrative richness which all other TV shows invariably lack. Moreover, barely a word of dialogue is spoken and yet so much is conveyed during the scene, thus simultaneously granting the show a cinematic quality for the umpteenth occasion.

In addition, while Simon may maintain his perception of humanity as disposable and self-serving owing to the rigidity of the capitalist system, there is no denying the highly humane and emotive overtones with which this episode culminates, perpetuated by the stark altruism that innumerable characters display.

The moment whereby Kima is shot, along with its immediate ramifications, is arguably one of the most heartfelt scenes in the show’s history. The reaction of utter dismay amongst all her fellow police officers is palpable upon their hearing of this unsavoury incident.

The expressions of disbelief and shock that Kima’s colleagues each exhibit emphasise how the event of a police officer getting shot is in fact generally perceived as a substantial anomaly. Even Daniels, who is emotionally impenetrable for the most part, is quite obviously taken aback by this occurrence.

Consequently, in dramatic terms, the portrayal of Kima’s shooting represents a crescendo to many of the tensions which have gradually been unfolding throughout the season. Namely, it is the first time in which one of the major characters has been significantly hurt.

David Simon often speaks of “having to earn” dramatic moments such as this one by ensuring that they do not occur excessively and indeed, Kima’s brush with death contrasts dramatically with the episodes low key tone. It is especially dissimilar to the aforementioned, deliberately unremarkable opening scene.

Perhaps it is also far from a coincidence that these scenes focus primarily on arguably the two most dignified characters on either of the street/police divide. Yet for all the virtuous elements of their respective personas, Kima and Bubbles are both portrayed in situations of immense struggle and hardship.

Bubbles is shown homeless and physically ravaged due to his relentless drug abuse, while Kima’s pain is obviously more immediate. Both are, in a certain sense, ultimately the victims of the harsh existence intrinsic to day-to-day life in Baltimore.

Nevertheless – unlike Kima – Bubbles is not exactly blameless with regards the problems he encounters. Yet in a subsequent scene he speaks poignantly to Walon about his background coming from a broken family comprising a dead mother and an absent father. Bubbles’ steady psychological descent following this adversity is another implicit indictment of the system and its failure to deal with this wayward youth. 

Similarly, most characters in The Wire are not wholly to blame for the misfortunes that befall them. They are merely victims, suffering from the countless inadequacies of Baltimorean society at large.

Random Facts:

1. During one scene set in a bus station, McNulty asks Omar about New York City. Omar responds: “There must be something happening, it’s too big a town.” This line is taken directly from the Steve Earle song “New York City”.
2. In this episode, Orlando becomes the seventh character in The Wire to be murdered.
3. Along with ‘Middle Ground’, ‘The Cost’ is the highest rated episode of season 1 from voters on TV.com with a score 9.5/10 with 154 votes. It is also the joint second highest rated episode of The Wire ever. 
4. Clayton LaBouef, who played Orlando, has consistently been a staple actor in Simon’s work having previously appeared in both Homicide and The Corner. He is also an established theatre actor and playwright.
5. The episode fleetingly depicts Senator Clay Davis shown giving a political speech on a television set – he eventually develops into one of the most prominent character in later seasons. Simon insists he always intended for this to occur.

Best Quote: “Ms Pearlman, do you have a response you’d like to offer up here?” “Nope.” Having been coerced at the last minute into defending McNulty against charges that he is an unfit father, Rhonda is completely perplexed and out of her depth during the hearing. To her credit, she does not even attempt to conceal this fact from the judge.

Best Scene: The recurrent dialogues between Walon and Bubbles are seldom anything but harrowing and this episode proves to be no exception. The former character reveals, in heartbreaking fashion, the depth to which his drug addiction and ailments had once descended. He tells Bubbles: “I had the bug… Gave that shit to my old lady. Worried about passing it on to my baby girl. Now I spare her that at least.”  

New Characters: None

WTF Moment: The unashamedly friendly manner by which McNulty treats Omar as the latter character departs for New York.