46 hours with "The Wire"

As I admitted in my first posting, there's a lot I will do for my favorite television show. I've been known to cut engagements short to see the finale of "Beauty and the Geek" (sad, I know), plan my workout at the gym in time for me to get home for "The Office" and turn my cell phone off during "Project Runway."

Nothing compares to what I've done for "The Wire," though.

In less than a month - punctuated by a busy schedule at work and an unforeseen hurdle when my DVD player shorted - I've raced through four seasons of "The Wire." If you're counting, that's 50 episodes at about 55 minutes each. 2750 minutes in all. 46 hours. No wonder my DVD player died a fiery death in the middle of season 3, leading me in a wild goose chase all across town to see which no-name TV repair store could fix it and/or retrieve the DVD stuck inside (disc 4 of season 3).

Now, if you're not a fellow obsessee, you may find me pathetic. You may ask yourself, why is this crazy woman doing all this for a show that is described as an "HBO police drama series set in Baltimore, Maryland?"

Perhaps the show's marketers should have done a better job. As a self-proclaimed fan of "Law and Order," I can tell you without a doubt that "The Wire" is unlike any cop show you've ever seen because, well, it’s not one. Although the police (or the "5-0" as I've begun referring to them in my post-Wire phase) feature heavily in the show, the show is really about the complex layers of people who interact in Baltimore - the cops, the drug kingpins, the street-level dealers, the addicts, the politicians, the working class laborers, the teachers, the social workers, the kids and so on. Each season reveals another layer of Charm City, building a portrait of a decaying world that few admit exists and still fewer want to see on television.

That's exactly why "The Wire" is brilliant. It's unapologetic in its portrayal of inner city Baltimore, but you know that creator David Simon (an ex-reporter for The Baltimore Sun) and his writing partner Ed Burns (a former Baltimore cop) love their dilapidated city. All your misconceptions - how cops are the good guys and drug dealers are the bad - go out the window within the first two episodes. Instead you see people for who they are and how they got there, broken by a system of neglect and left to fend for themselves in a world that would much rather pretend they don't exist.

Depressed, yet? Don't be. "The Wire" is gloriously funny, filled with moments that straddle the line between irony and "is this really happening?" (My personal favorite is when Russell "Stringer" Bell, one of the drug kingpins, starts using Robert's Rules of Order to govern his street-level minions - come on, that's hilarious).

The show features the finest cast of characters on television who stick with you long after the closing credits, all of them flawed as hell but pitch-perfect in their imperfection. There isn't a single character whose death - and yes, "The Wire" has quite a few - you actually cheer for. Even the so-called bad guys.

If I had to pick one character as my favorite - and, believe me, this is no easy task - I'd have to go with Omar Little, the gay stickup artist whose Robin Hood-esque motto is that he only steals from and kills drug dealers, never "taxpayers." Between his distinctive scar, his signature shotgun and his catchy habit of whistling "Farmer in the Dell" while roaming the streets, what's not to love?

Sadly, "The Wire" ends its critically acclaimed five-season run this week. The series finale airs Sunday on HBO, but don't let that stop you from running out to Blockbuster and renting seasons 1 through 4. You will never regret it. It's worth buying a new DVD player, if necessary.

-- Malavika Jagannathan, mjaganna@greenbaypressgazette.com