Why Breaking Bad is the greatest TV series ever? - Baltimore Post-ExaminerBaltimore Post-Examiner

Why Breaking Bad is the greatest TV series ever?

So then, action fans, the 0301381 mk6 Power supply. Part of the same VDU assembly as 0300402 mentioned in my last blog and still not defragmented from my head.

It kept failing.

Back in the bad old days the mk6 PSU was designed to handle enough power to fry the head of anyone unfortunate to spend their entire day in front of one. Kind of like early mobile phones.

Anyway, the calculated power rating was only enough to deal with an average skull thickness, and when presented with the innumerable Cro-Magnon descended dullards who were the inevitable operators of these VDUs, the power supply began to fail on a semi-regular basis. That, dear friends, was the reason why the Mk7 was developed.

So then. Breaking Bad and why it is the greatest TV series made. Ever. Really. The simplest reason is that both my wife and I watched the entire thing from beginning to end in two glorious weeks.

I appreciate in this age of internet viewing, box-sets, streaming and the like that sitting down once every week to enjoy a good TV program with one’s partner or family is a thing of the past. So it is with us.

We buy a weekly TV guide and search through it for something we have even the vaguest interest in watching, and, since it would seem no television station currently broadcasting in Britain thinks that Bilko is worth showing any more, there is a dearth of anything we would consider giving up an hour of our lives to watch. That isn’t strictly true.

We are watching “Suits” at the moment. You know, the LA Law/House hybrid with the usual plot subplot/moral angst televisual smorgasbord where everything is sewn up in the last five minutes, and isn’t Lupus, or any more immoral than would be deemed “Normal.” But we are only watching this to maintain a level of irony deemed adequate by the European Union to be good for our health.

So then. Breaking Bad.

I have a friend who works offshore in the oil industry, and as such has a fair amount of spare time to pass – while earning large amounts of money – (ever wonder why gas is so expensive?) and he had recently come back from a work assignment in Spain, where he had watched the first three series over three days and had reported through Facebook how much he had enjoyed them. I would recount his exact words but there was far too much swearing. That was good enough a recommendation for me, and so for a couple of pints the DVDs were ours. Game on.

For the three people in the world not aware of the basic plot, allow me to shine a torch up this particular orifice for you and explain in echoing tones. Malcolm in the Middle’s Father (Brian Cranston) has apparently divorced his wife (Malcolm’s mother) abandoned his kids and made a new life for himself as a High School Chemistry Teacher.

All I can say to that is that the sex with his new wife – Anna Gunn – must be tremendous, because I always had a secret crush on Malcolm’s mother. (Mind you, I also thought Dr. Frasier Crane was a bit of an arse for divorcing Dr. Lilleth Sternan as she was a hottie too).

So, life as a High School Chemistry Teacher surprisingly isn’t as exciting as you might imagine, especially when having to take a second job at a car wash (without even the benefit of either Rose Royce or George Carlin for comic relief) and then, well blow me down, he is diagnosed with advanced lung cancer. The first big laugh of the series.

By now you must have the irresistible urge to look up the plot on Wiki something or other, so don’t let me stop you. It will save my fingers the effort of typing. It was just about at the time of his diagnosis that I began to remember another TV series from the 1960s called, “Run for your Life” starring Ben Gazzara. He also is diagnosed with cancer, the nice kind, the kind where he didn’t lose his hair or visibly waste away in front of you during its run of 86 episodes. He contracted the televisual form of cancer, the one where you can carry on working and living without any noticeable deterioration right up until the end.

Anyway, you either liked Breaking Bad and watched all of it because you were, like my wife and I, avid fans, or you watched all of it and hated it, in which case you are an idiot. It won lots of awards, notably Best Actor for several seasons for Malcolm’s Dad – you remember, the hairy backed one –and it succeeded where other such TV shows as, the Sopranos, The Wire, The Good Wife, CSI, NCSI and Aye aye aye had failed, in that we actually watched and enjoyed all of it.

Now this isn’t what you might think, i.e. the typical superior snootiness of the British coming through. Au contraire, I recognize that a television show isn’t inherently bad because it’s American any more than it’s inherently good because it’s British. For many years I avidly watched such gems as, Taxi, Cheers and The West Wing, although in the case of the latter I will admit it was out of a morbid interest to see how long it would take President Bartlett to have an overwhelming flashback, start talking about “Charlie” (his son?) don camouflage paint and take out Rob Lowe.

And I do feel for you now that you have the ability to watch Top Gear through the auspices of BBC America, containing, as it does, three of the most misogynistic misanthropes we have to offer. Any offers? Thought not. So then, the reason Breaking Bad was the best TV series in the history of the entire world, ever, is that I sat down and watched and enjoyed it with my wife. There you have it.

Oh yes, and for those of you who don’t remember “Run for your Life”, a salutary tale. People tuned in every week to see what adventures our hero would have, and to be honest, to see if this week’s episode would be the one where he died. In the end he was cured and the next season failed miserably because no one was interested any more. Fluke? What happened to Dr. Richard Kimble when he found the one-armed man? My point exactly. Things run their course. The star that burns twice as bright burns half as long, or some other quote from Blade Runner.

Next time round, if my head has finally been defragmented, no more part numbers, but something else completely.



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