There are only two new episodes left of The West Wing. When it goes - and meaning no disrespect to the memory of John Spencer - it will be a mercy killing.
The observant among you will recall my very first post on this here blog, in which I opined as to the existential excellence of this bit of network television programming.
It will live forever in my heart and in my mind. It will always serve, for me, as a model of what government could be. I even have a Santos/McGarry bumper sticker on my office wall.
But lately? This show's been in the shitter.
Many of the chattering class over at TWoP have ascribed this decline to John Wells, who took over the reigns from Aaron Sorkin in season four.
Truth be told, I would agree that the show's had more downs than ups in its last three seasons. But that's not why I will mourn its passing without gnashing my teeth.
Even when this show is uneven, it's still - like mid-career Woody Allen - better than 98 per cent of the garbage that's out there.
I don't even dispute the show's right to postulate a reality that is different than what we experience in our waking lives. For example, in The Last Hurrah - which first aired April 30, 2006 - President Elect Matt Santos offered his vanquished opponent, Arnie Vinick, the post of Secretary of State.
There was much hooting and derision on the discussion boards about whether this particular turn of events was realistic, or even good television.
My view was that the election, as portrayed on the show, yielded such a close outcome that Santos's gesture was one of magnaminity, not foolishness. He was seeking to build a national consensus, and appointing his opponent to a key job like this would help cement his bipartisan reputation.
In fact, if anything, it was this very type of high-road approach that convinced me it was time for the show to end.
Because, frankly, it's all too depressing.
I used to think that it was only in US politics (the real-world variety) that the slash-and-burn, cutthroat competition between parties could be so naked and raw.
But this week, Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper (I still have trouble writing that) descended to a level of partisanship previously unseen in this country in giving Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty - the leader of 12.5 million people in the largest province in the country - only a glancing nod of the head as he passed through town.
Harper fancies himself more of a Tim Horton's guy than a Starbuck's guy. Or at least that's the way his handlers and spinners have portrayed him. And maybe he is all that. But that doesn't mean he gets to treat this province as a drive-through.
What has always made The West Wing great was that we, in Canada, could sit back in our arrogant superiority and point at it and say, "Ok, that's them. It's not us."
But now that it's us too? I'm calling, "Car." The game stops. It's just no fun any more.
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