I’m Starting to Hate Myself for Watching Game of Thrones

Recently at work we were having a meeting and began with the icebreaker question (I work at a touchy-feely nonprofit that does icebreaker questions) “What fictional world would you want to live in?” Several came to mind – the Earth kingdom of Ba Sing Se was my answer – but I knew one place that would never be chosen: The 7 Kingdoms of Westoros, Essos, or anywhere conceived in A Song of Ice and Fire. Westoros is a terrible place, so no one could ever– –my thought was interrupted with a coworker saying its name. I awed at the answer, from a woman no less, because by now we’re all familiar with Westoros as a place that revels in its cruelty. George R. R. Martin has built a world of violence, cynicism, and hopelessness so extreme that there likely isn’t a person in its realm for which you would substitute yourself. Can you think of even a single character whose life you would want to have?

Yet here we all are, 5 books and 5 seasons in, still engrossed in a series that long abandoned consideration for many of its fans. Instead, it actively plays against them like a 5th grade boy whose immaturity seeks new ways to repulse the girl whose attention he wants. I watch a program that disgusts me so much on a regular basis that I’ve come to expect it; the question is never “will Game of Thrones repulse me today,” it’s a matter of how it’ll do it this time. [quote_right]”George R. R. Martin might very well be the best self-publicist of all time.”[/quote_right]One of my best friends aband…