Stephanie Gayle

When my former roommate Sara tried to sell me and Tracey on HBO's program, "The Wire" we both thought she sounded very passionate about how great it was. And how did we react? We shrugged and went, "eh." Then I read an article on David Simon, the show's creator, in The New Yorker and I was sold. (Article here). So I began watching. At approximately the same time, lacking benefit of that New Yorker article, Tracey also began watching the series (we have an odd form of ESP that largely manifests itself with each of us buying the same household products at exactly the same time). Anyhoo, we both love it and owe Sara a big, "You told us so."

Tracey has sped ahead of me. She's watching season four and I just finished season two. So she has to be careful not to spoil things for me. Besides, most of our conversation dwells on 1.The hotness of Detective Jimmy McNulty and 2. The hotness of Detective--wait, did I mention that? Actually, once we get past that we talk about why we like characters who are psychopathic killers, unrepentent drug dealers, and alcoholic self-destructive cops (not just because they're hot). Making characters sympathetic despite horrible traits/actions is no mean feat, but The Wire makes it look effortless.

The show has amazing writing and of course that's what gets me. Every time. But it also has great actors and a twisty turvy story line that you can't help wanting to follow around the next corner and the next until you realize you've watched five episodes in a row. Oops.

This year's season of the Wire is to be the last. I'm in early mourning. Smart television is so rare.