Despite the homo-erotica needle hitting the red line virtually every episode, I’m raving about Spartacus: Blood and Sand to any human being with a pulse who stays near me for more than 30 seconds. Yes, the violence is laughably pornographic, yes the boobage quotient takes a good long hard look at the line labelled “gratuitious” and then does a reverse triple summersault over it wearing no underwear. But damn, the story kicks more ass than the bastard love child of Jack Burton and Snake Pliskin (obviously there would need to be some kind of Red Dwarf related alternate universe tomfoolery for such a union to occur). I just hit episode eleven, and had to hold myself back from just pushing through to season’s end. Had I a gusset, I would be fizzing in it for this show.
Which made it even more of a downer when I discovered today that the lead, Andy Whitfield, has learned that his cancer has come back, and he won’t be appearing in s2. Probably more important, however, is the fact that he might die from this shit.
Such as they are, my good thoughts and positive vibes go out to you, Andy. Wishing you a speedy and permanent recovery, old son.

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