The most magical thing happened to me:
Time and time again, we've all been taught that if there's a book we love (or, for that matter, a graphic novel), the film/series adaptation will be terrible. I've had this lesson beaten into me so severely that when I heard about HBO doing Game of Thrones I didn't even blink.
Think about how bad that is: HBO, who brought us Deadwood, is bringing to life some of the best fucking books on this planet and I could care less.
A young, stupid Justin would have squealed like a little girl at this news. Honestly I'm not sure how my head could even process this news ten years ago when I'd first read about the Wall and the Lannisters, and Dany ordering a few thousand men to be de-cocked. My imagination would've gone wild.
But an older, jaded Justin has learned his lesson. There's no such thing as a quality adaptation. Only the exploitation of suckers like myself who are slowly becoming the target audience for the entertainment industry.
I sat in front of the pilot of Game of Thrones with less expectations than I'd have for an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond.
After about five minutes, I was squealing like a little girl.
Oh my god, I nerded out so hard.
The sets and scenery? Perfect. This is Ice and Fire to the letter.
The actors? They're not how I pictured them in the books. They're much, much better. Tyrion is charming. Cersei is a cunt. Ned looks fucking tired but determined. Best one of all? The Cart King. God, he's perfect.
I am so much happy right now.
George? Forget the books. You can finish your series on HBO.
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