By now, y’all have probably forgotten that I watch Game of Thrones. This is because I don’t write much about Game of Thrones, except for when I feel the impulse to swoop in and pour disdain on Internet hysteria over needless, manipulative plot contrivances. But I’m back, writing about Game of Thrones once more, this time for the purpose of snuffing out Internet theorymongering over who will eventually end up winning the game and sitting on the throne. My answer to that question? Who the hell cares?
There’s a separate essay about why the winner of the game of the thrones is literally meaningless in the context of Game of Thrones‘ own plot – this season has actualized that philosophy through dialogue – but in this piece, I’m just out to bitch about the amount of thought that we put into decoding hints and clues and portents of the show’s eventual victor(s), and not talking about, like…the show. Thank R’hllor Paste Magazine’s editors agree with me.
A Constant Visual Feast 