DON’T READ IF YOU DIDN’T WATCH. Consider yourself warned.

This was my main issue with last night’s episode of The Wire: How did McNulty actually think anyone would give a rat’s patootie about a serial murderer targeting the homeless (3 and counting) when no one cared about a huge national scandal of 20+ dead bodies in vacant buildings all over the city. As soon as he started looking up vagrants to include in his victim list, I was like, “What? Homeless people? Oh, yeah, that’ll really make people care.”

I did, however, almost fall off the sofa when Lester threw his lot in with McNulty. The two of them, sitting at the table in Interview Room 1, conspiring how to get resources back for the Marlo investigation was brilliant, frightening and hilarious.

Poor Bunk.

Of all the folks I didn’t expect to throw in with McNulty on his crazy man’s quest, it was Lester. He’s always seemed to be the moral compass of the show, at least as far as the cops are concerned. Of course, in The Wire’s own twisted way, he’s still pointed true north. The problem is, everything else is so screwed up that doing the right thing can mean you have to lie about something else.

Once again, The Wire manages to entertain, depress, confound and enrage its viewers.

Entertained, because how could you help but laugh when McNulty’s having sex with that random woman from the bar on the hood of a car and flashes his badge at the uniformed cops in the patrol car? (My husband had a good question thought: What woman does that?) Plus, the scene between Clay Davis and his “driver” was pure comedy.

Depressed, because how could you not feel down when you saw such experienced folks as the cops reporter at The Baltimore Sun basically being pushed out the door? (OK, maybe journalists who were watching the show felt that one a little bit more strongly. How about Michael basically getting in trouble for taking Bug and Dukie to Six Flags for a nice day?)

Confounded, because how do we live in a society where no one cares about a triple murder home invasion or a serial killer targeting homeless people?

Enraged, because how do we live in a society where no one cares about a triple murder home invasion or a serial killer targeting homeless people?

Anyhow, the biggest underlying non newspaper-related story of the episode was Commissioner Burrell’s imminent ouster.

The most telling moment was when Carcetti tells Davis he doesn’t need his help smoothing the way for Rawls and Daniels to become interim commissioner and commissioner, respectively. The story’s been out all day, Carcetti (I can’t remember, was that Norman or Steintorf with Carcetti?) inform Davis. But the phone’s been quiet. No one’s been calling to express outrage that Burrell might be out of a job.

Of course, we don’t know what secret Daniels (Cedric and Marla) is (are) harboring. What does Burrell have on them? Explains why Col. Daniels seemed less than pleased at the news that he’s being considered for the top job. It seems this secret could be the undoing of both his career and his love life, mayhaps. What will Pearlman think when she hears whatever it is that he’s hiding? (If you know the secret, DON’T TELL ME! I wanna know, but I want to find out in due time.)

I harbor no illusions that Burrell’s not going to let the cat out of the bag. It could be the only way to save his job. It would be untenable for Carcetti to give the commissioner’s job to Rawls on a permanent basis, of course, but the black community is OK with it on a temporary basis. If Burrell torpedoes Daniels, will Carcetti be forced to keep Burrell on? The only other option to Rawls at this particular moment in time is Valchek. And that ain’t gonna happen.

I liked how Carcetti gave Burrell the opportunity to fess up to cooking the stats, even though he didn’t take it. It gave him a sense of honor.

That and the newsroom were the lion’s share of last night’s episode, but the entire storyline between Marlo and the Russians and Prop Joe was interesting. Having not seen Season 2 yet, I have to admit I’m a little confused by it, but I’m catching on. The most interesting element, though, is that Prop Joe is really trying to turn Marlo from a drug-dealing strongman thug into a businessman whose business just happens to be drug-dealing. And murder.

Marlo’s trip to the Antilles was a definite humorous interlude. That whole exchange between him and the teller who speaks only French (I found that unrealistic, though, that a bank in the Antilles wouldn’t have a teller who spoke English. I’m sure plenty of American money is hidden there.) was a hoot. His insistence that he wanted to see his money showed how much he had to learn about how the business of business runs.

But Prop Joe proved, once again, to really be the man behind everything. I love the whole co-op idea and that they do things for one another for the betterment of all. The real world should work so well; maybe there’d be fewer drug co-ops if it did. Imagine if Prop Joe worked for the good guys.

One other tidbit before I hit the newsroom: I presume Omar’s going to be back in Baltimore next week. He really seemed crushed when he heard the news of his friend. Interesting, though, that on 24 (another show I love), Jack Bauer can get a suicide bomber terrorist to give up any info, practically, just by shooting/stabbing him (or his wife) in the knee, but Snoop & Chris shot Butchie in both knees and beat the crap outta him and he refused to give up Omar. That’s some major guts. Fare the well, Butchie.

OK, so the newsroom:

First off, Templeton is exactly the kind of “reporter” who gives most reporters a bad name. He truly believes he’s better than the lot he’s been given and that he doesn’t need to pay his dues. So if he can’t get his dues honestly, he’ll make them up.

The scene where Gus asks Templeton who gave him the quote was absolutely realistic. Any editor worth his salt (which Gus is, and then some) won’t accept information from his reporter without knowing who the source is. And Templeton should know that. An editor won’t burn a reporter’s source; but s/he won’t publish information anonymously from a source without knowing who that source is.

Sometimes, only the top one or two editors at a paper will know who a specific source is, but those are only in absolutely exceptional circumstances. In a situation like this, it’s rare that a paper would even print an anonymously sourced story. In a case like this, given that the sources are (for real) Norman Wilson and (falsely) Nerese Campbell, most any editor would go with the story. Sources don’t get any more solid than that.

Some might wonder if such news as buyouts and hard economic times would be given in such an informal gathering as the editor standing on a desk and talking to the troops.

I can’t tell you how many major news events have been announced that way in all the newsrooms I’ve been in. Sometimes someone’s standing on a desk (mostly so people in the back of the crowd can see him/her), sometimes just in the front of or a corner of the room.

Newsrooms aren’t big on ceremony; usually, a bigwig comes in, delivers the news and then the news vultures start peppering them with questions. In fact, I recall one meeting at my old newspaper when the publisher revealed that certain benefits were going to change for the coming year, and it would even affect some folks already working at the paper, but not all; just relatively new hires. I piped up, suggesting it wasn’t fair that people who had been hired under the old benefits. The next day, the policy was changed.

Reporters, as you may have guessed, aren’t shy.

When news as bad as what was delivered in The Wire’s newsroom, however, it’s not unusual for everyone to clam up. Then watch as colleague after colleague is called into a room, told what a great job they’ve done and that it’s horrible what has to be done. I suspect the latter is the case in any industry these days.

With Twigg’s departure imminent, not surprised that he flipped Gus the bird when asked if he’d do a story. But he’s a newsman, and as soon as he heard what it was and rattled off every single detail about Daniels’ life (except, I guess, the secret Burrell holds), he realized he’d be a newsman until the day he walked out the door. And then maybe still after.

I’ve seen that happen before, though, when a beat reporter is swamped, then they hear what the story is and suddenly they have room in their schedule. It’s not that the reporter was being disingenuous about being busy — most are — but when it’s something particularly juicy on your beat, it’s near impossible to turn it down. You’ll work extra hours, weekends, nights, whatever to get that story. Have tickets to a concert that night? Call home and tell your significant other to find someone else to go with.

One time in Arizona, the resolution to a story I’d been following — a Mormon missionary kidnapped in Russia was released by his captors — came about on my weekend off. I was already out of town and called in as soon as we got to a pay phone (this was way back in the days of pagers and pay phones in the mid- to late-90s and we were in the mountains east of Phoenix), responding to the page from the City Desk.

The only reason we didn’t turn around and go back was that I was already an hour out of town and the news conference was happening momentarily. Another reporter, whom I respected, had been dispatched to cover it. If we’d turned around, I wouldn’t have had much left to do on the story by the time I got back AND my weekend would have been blown. To this day, though, I still sort of regret not having been in town for that.

Templeton’s totally ticked off, but he needs to be realistic. He just refuses to wait. Probably, if he worked somewhere else before the Sun, he was a star there. A big fish in a small pond, as they say. Now he’s a small fish in a (reasonably) big pond, and can’t stand it.

If the Sun is his first job, then he was a “star” in college and on internships. He got a job right off the bat in the big leagues, and figured he’d be a star there, too. The idea that he has to pay his dues is alien to him.

As for Alma, I’ve felt her frustration before.

I recall one time when I was “Millerized” — one of the most exciting things that could happen to a young reporter at The Miami Herald was having a story edited by the late, great Gene Miller. It was a wacky cops story; I hardly remember the details now, but it involved a fatal attraction between a 70-something woman and her 60-something boyfriend who she had killed or tried to have killed. It was supposed to go on 1A. My first as a staffer. (I’d had a double-byline as an intern, but that’s not the same thing.)

When I saw the next day that it ended up on page 2 of the Local section, I got really upset. That first 1A byline can be very exciting. Especially if you’re young and at a major metro. Just like Alma did. Actually, maybe even more upset. But I always subscribed to the newspaper I worked for. The fact that Alma doesn’t subscribe, in fact, is one of the issues many editors grapple with. You have to make the papers available to reporters at work; they have a right to have to have copies of their work. But how can you tell other folks that they should be subscribing when your own staff doesn’t?

My tidbits of reality for this week:
• When Whiting and Klebanow call Gus into Klebanow’s office and they laugh off his feeling freaked out that he’s being targeted for a buyout. He’s going to have to help guide the new, leaner team.
• Alma’s meeting with McNulty. Every female reporter in the world can share a story of a source hitting on her. Probably some guys, too, but every woman. Guaranteed.

Photos courtesy of HBO.