[MUSIC PLAYING]
[SINGING]
PAUL AND STORM: George R. R. Martin please
write and write faster.
You're not going to get any younger, you know.
Winter is coming.
I'm growing impatient.
And you still got two whole damn books left to go.
So write, George, write like the wind.
STORM: I cursed the day that my friend ever loaned me an
old dog-eared paperback called Game of Thrones.
How could I know that the seed would grow into an addiction
that held me right down to my bones?
PAUL AND STORM: Now, five books later I lurk with the
masses, indignant, entitled and waiting for word that the
Great Bearded Glacier has finally published 900 more
pages of crack for the nerds.
Why does every new verse of your song keep taking you so
goddamned long?
George R. R. Martin please write and write faster.
Please give us foiled letter and sigils and steel.
We need our allotment of incest and intrigue and
six-page descriptions of every last meal.
So write, George, write like the wind.
STORM: Lewis took five years to chronicle Narnia.
Tolkien had 12 years and Rowling took 10.
Lucas spent nearly three decades on Star Wars and we
all know how that one turned out in the end.
PAUL AND STORM: You're not our bitch, and you're not a
machine, and we don't mean to dictate how
you spend your days.
But please bear in mind in the time that you've had, William
Shakespeare churned out 35 friggin' plays.
And if you keep writing so slow, you'll
hold up the HBO show.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
PAUL AND STORM: George R. R. Martin please write and write
faster 'cause we won't stop whining until we're appeased.
Crap out the chapters.
And George, while you're at it, stop killing our favorite
characters, please.
And write, George, write like the wind.
George R. R. Martin please write and write faster--
like the wind--
before you are dead, George, please write like the wind.
[SINGING ENDS]