One of the things I gave up for Lent was my Netflix addiction.  Once Easter came and I went back to reload the ol’ queue, one of the flicks I tossed in was Band of Brothers.

I suppose I’m out of practice, because I forgot to space out the discs and intermingle them with other selections, the result being that I suddenly found myself with six solid episodes to slog through.  I did it, too.  But perhaps because I’m getting impatient in my old age, somehow I haven’t yet come up with the energy to watch the remaining four, which currently sit atop the DVD player.  It isn’t that the series is not as good as I remembered, because it is.  It’s just that I got my fill sooner than I expected.  Wasn’t it MTV that used to say “Too much is never enough?”  They’re dead wrong, of course.

Oh, and I’ll say again what I said a long time ago elsewhere:  Damian Lewis looks like a constipated cat.

UPDATE:  Groovy Vic asks exactly how I know what a constipated cat looks like anyway.  Well, to quote Mal Reynolds, “Look, you can’t open the book of my life in the middle and jump in.”