Entertainment Editor. Cersei, Jaime, Varys, and The Hound meet their fates in ways that might subvert expectations built on years of predictions, theories, and textual analysis of the show, sure.
Flint and oak might give in to them, much less you, yourself a frail spirit. Above all, he subscribed to the Gatsby theory of self-reinvention. The man in the center still on the white path of broken bones had a pike, and one of the others an ax. No one can prove this true nor false. If he came, what would happen?
What was it all for? Did any of it mean anything? Their decisions feel at times inscrutably random. Nothing means anything anymore. But she has never purposely hurt people who were not political enemies or soldiers. And one that could have been so easily avoided. There were all the reasons in the world for Dany to snap, from genetics to bad fortune to isolation and betrayals. For the love of God, why make the final straw about Jon Snow?
Few characters have ever enjoyed the luxury of a satisfying conclusion. What is the show telling us now about Daenerys? About Jaime? Does it matter? And the show has always dedicated considerable screen time to subverting the notion that anyone in this world is a hero, no matter how much they or we believe they are.
Even the notion that there are no heroes in this world is continually undercut or at least, rendered inconsistent by Jon Snow, perpetual golden boy. Given the company Gary Hart had chosen, he was heading for a crash. On that game board, Donna started out at the top—with royalty, followed by one of the richest men in the world—and it was downhill from there.
Nearly six years after her debut aboard the Nabila, she was a woman still waiting to hit a lucky streak.
Donna Rice did not know how to protect herself, and, worse, she had nothing to protect. She collided with the world of a man who had everything to lose, and was ready to lose it. Hart does not look like a happy man in that picture of the foursome on the bandstand in Bimini. His fevered red face resembles that of a terminally ill man suspended in those golden drugged seconds when, because his painkillers are working, he can pretend to revel in living. The tempting, tortured journey by which Gary Hartpence crossed the tracks of Ottawa to the world of Donna Rice took him twenty-five years.
He began on August 9, , with an appearance at the courthouse in Ottawa to petition for a change of his name. Nina Hartpence, it was so noted, had an illness and was not present. Years later, when the press discovered the name change, Hart was still covering up his very first act of independence, dared finally at the age of twenty-four. His first attempt to leave had taken him to Yale Divinity School, but he went with the blessing of his mother by promising to live out her dream for him—to be a preacher. It was a common path for young men like Hart, wishing to go beyond the mind-set of their upbringing, but terrified to make a complete break.
What Gary had not shared with his mother were the Dostoyevskian visions already planted in his head by one J. Bethany was a bulwark of religious rectitude intended to protect its flock from the wickedness of universities; its dress code forbade girls to wear sleeveless blouses or blue jeans.
Not only did Johnson introduce Hart to the seductive existentialists, he left the boy alone for the first time with a woman—Oletha Lee Ludwig. Lee came from a classy Kansas City family, and her father was general secretary of the whole sect. He took up that challenge, and they were married two months after their college graduation. Lee and Gary packed up and drove their jalopy east, to New Haven, where Lee began a six-year stint of supporting them while Gary attended the two graduate schools. Almost immediately Hart expressed frustration at being tied down. With the utter surrender of a sword-swallower at the circus, Hart internalized J.
After two years in Washington at the Justice Department, where the fledgling attorney worked on cases left over from the McCarthy era, Hart struck out for Colorado. It was No sooner had Hart served a year within the confines of a traditional law firm than he moved into a basement to start his own practice. Hart himself told me that was the greatest turning point in his life. He was thirty-one, and the father of two. But that bold move was only the beginning of an accelerated flight from his past. In the same year, , he formally left his church.
His mother, already disappointed at his straying into the secular woods, set a cold sentence upon him. In , abandoning his new practice, he left his wife and family and moved out on the trail to work for an apparently hopeless cause called the McGovern campaign. Not remotely interested in ideas in those days, Hart prided himself on being a cool technocrat. Warren Beatty, star and sybarite, was a daredevil from Hollywood taking a year out of his life to work for McGovern and indulge his earliest childhood wish, to be president.
He could introduce Hart to the glamour of Hollywood, and Hart could offer him political credibility—a magnificent symbiosis. It was the beginning of a long association. Monday morning, time and again, these breathless, brainy little buds would turn up in Washington to commit their lives to working for Gary Hart.
Time and again, they would find themselves stuffing envelopes and weeping as they watched Gary pass their desk to the rest room—without so much as a hello. They were anybody. The ugly duckling, Gary Hartpence, had developed, as if overnight, into a dazzlingly handsome young man whose picture appeared even in Playboy. Gary had been a sensitive and intelligent boy; his need to break out was inevitable, yet he could not use the new freedom to experience sex and pleasure within the context of a full human relationship.
His was a compulsion rooted not in seeking illicit sex but in proving he was so utterly worthy that he could break all the rules.
For all his superficial arrogance, however, the evidence suggests that he could never believe he was worthy enough. It was sudden and inexplicable, the way Nina Hartpence withdrew from her mortal coil. Nina had already expired.
But his father seemed to make an effortless transformation. With his wife in the ground only six months, he and Faye Brown, aged seventy-two, had themselves a church wedding. Five days later he was dead. Clearly there would be no simple escape from the awesome power Nina Hartpence wielded over her son and husband. Both men had to go to dangerous extremes to free themselves. Indeed, Carl Hartpence may have died from it. At least one close colleague remembers being stunned to learn that Hart was married.
From then on, without regard to the status of his marriage, there were always other women. Another pattern began to emerge, as fascinating as it would ultimately be fatal. When the McGovern campaign crashed, Hart handled the failure in a memorable way.
Even then, Hart was dropping tantalizing clues to his danger-seeking side. During the trip, Hart withdrew from the group, spent time alone silently pondering his future, and came back to announce that he was thinking of a political career for himself. To the amazement of those around him, with a negative net worth and no political base, Hart set out to capture a seat in the U.
He began to go farther afield, exploring American Indian religion, and getting glossy English hostess Diana Phipps to introduce him to European society.
The more broadly he roamed, the more exaggerated was his denial that he had any problem. Simultaneously, he was asking his secretary to find an excuse for him to fly to L.
By the time Gary first decided to run for president, Lee had made a significant, twenty-four-year investment in his future. She turned to real estate. The Harts patched it up again shortly before Gary began his first presidential campaign. Lee appeared to want the White House as much as Gary did.
That would explain why she was willing to be humiliated in private and ignored in public. On the campaign plane, she would try to edge onto the armrest next to her husband; he was cold and distant.