With Apologies to TiVo

I confess. I fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

I ranted, I screamed. I shook my fist at Marty. "Damn you, and your stupid TiVo! Now the whole world knows what happened, except us."

I fumed as he kept hitting rewind and play...until...we let it play out and realized there wasn't that big a gap between the fade-that-wasn't-a-fade and the credits.

Hm.

Could it be?

Could it be we'd SEEN the ending?

Yep. Sure enough. No untimely cable outage. No TiVo idiosyncrasy.

Just David Chase.

I like how one L.A. Times writer put it: "In the end, the art of writing is the art of making choices." In the case of The Sopranos finale, what were the choices? Whack Tony, don't whack Tony. Simple, really.

To my mind, before I'd watched the show, the choice was between commercialism and art. Commercialism left Tony alive for reunion shows (or future big screen versions). Art killed him off--like real life.

So, to tell you the truth, I kinda liked the "fill-in-the-blanks" version.

Or, as I read on a blog somewhere, apparently a character once told Tony (I'm totally paraphrasing, here): when the hit happens, it's over before you know it. You don't even see it coming.

Ah. Perhaps we experienced the "hit" just like Tony did. Abruptly. With no aftermath.

Brilliant.