Off the Bandwagon

So, last night was the long-awaited season premiere of The Sopranos. All day yesterday, everyone was talking about it. Duke's girlfriend Monica was calling her friends to figure out where she and Duke were going to watch. Jay and Jenna were planning to watch it. Keith posted his predictions for the season on Tucker's World.

But I don't care. I used to love the show. I have Season One on DVD. I watched Seasons Two, Three, and Four when they first ran. It used to be a Sunday ritual for me, and one that I really enjoyed, especially back in the 71 Bishop Street days. But now I just don't care.

I don't really know why. Maybe it's the ridiculously long wait since last season, but that's always been a staple for The Sopranos. Maybe it's because both Seasons Three and Four were disappointments to me. [Not that they weren't good, but they were a lot less good than the fist two seasons.] I don't know. But I don't give a damn.

If I happen to catch re-runs on HBO, I'll watch them. But I probably won't, because I don't watch very much television at all. [I did catch a re-run of Real Time with Bill Maher last night, which was nice, cause I love that show, and because Tavis Smiley was on, and he rocks.] But I'm not going to ask my dad to record them so I can watch them later, like I do with The West Wing, and I'm not going to actively try to watch the show. I feel like I should, but I just can't bring myself to care.

I'm actually pretty surprised about my attitude. I expected that I would get wrapped up in Sopranos-fever like everyone else. Go figure. Maybe it's because I'm an anti-American, French-loving, Christ-bashing, pinko Communist bastard. Who knows?