I watched the final episode of The White Lotus last night, and when it ended I texted the following to a friend: “I can now say that I’ve seen a roundly-praised HBO limited series that contained (a) a brief glimpse of male on male analingus and (b) a MCU of a middle-aged guy squatting and dropping two loads into a hotel guest’s suitcase.

It’s safe to say I’ll never forget these two moments. Ever. For the rest of my time on this planet.

The muncher and the seething social resentment shitter are played by 50 year-old Australian actor Murray Bartlett, so he’s definitely earned a place in the annals of cinema history.

Directed, written and exec produced by Mike White (writer of Beatriz at Dinner), The White Lotus focuses on several wealthy guests at a Hawaiian resort along with various staffers tending to their needs and appetites and whatnot. It’s basically a series about social classism or, put plainly, the behavior of self-absorbed, liberal-minded, bubble-residing lefty assholes, as observed by their social lessers.

Put more bluntly, The White Lotus basically says “these people live on their own secular planets, and we’re going to point this out to you over and over and over. And every time we reiterate this observation you can say to yourself ‘Jesus, what a bunch of nice, polite, petty-minded, self-absorbed, etc.”

Actual texts send to “friendo” last night (and vice versa) as I watched “Departures,” episode #6:

HE to Friendo: Thank God this is the final episode as I’ve been despising each and every empty character. To say that I’m repelled by their company is an understatement.
Friendo to HE: You’re supposed to dislike these people. That’s the point of it.
HE to Friendo: Story-wise The White Lotus is a piece of floating lint. It’s just behavior, behavior, behavior plus “my God, I’m stuck with these people.”
Friendo to HE: Surely you haven’t forgotten what a black comedy looks and sounds like?
HE to Friendo: No, I haven’t but remember the old adage about how, in any ensemble piece, audience engagement is brought about with the creation of at least one and sometimes two or three characters whom viewers might like or identify with? Or at least a character or two whom viewers might feel less negatively about?
Friendo to HE: To me The White Lotus is one of the best things I’ve seen in a long time. You need to find someone else to complain to.
HE to Friendo: You’re misunderstanding, I think. I loved watching those brown torpedos pushing their way out of Murray’s ass. I was astonished by the appearance of the first load, like everyone else, but the second discharge is what made me stand up and cheer. Bravo! Somewhere in heaven Luis Bunuel and Frank Ripploh are beaming with pride.
Friendo to HE: It exposes the hypocrisy of the elite left.
HE to Friendo: Not to mention the joys of ass munching and the startling symbolism of the stinky suitcase.
Friendo to HE: White wrote about shallow wealthy elites in Beatriz at Dinner.
HE to Friendo: I didn’t care for Beatriz at all. No lower-middle-class person working for wealthy people would be so oblivious or indifferent to the way you need to behave around them.
Friendo to HE: My friend [name] was repulsed by the shit scene.
HE to Friendo: An exposure of social-class disparity and how loathsome wealthy people can be. I had one small problem, which is that I hated everyone. I was like “lemme outta here.” Thank God somebody finally died at the end. But I wanted more blood, more death. I wanted a shark attack or two. Perhaps one of the guests falling off a hiking cliff like Doug Kenney. I’ve been rooting all along for something terrible to happen to at least a few of these characters, and I’m sorry but just one of them dying isn’t enough.

Incidentally: On a weekend night Dave and I (both of us 17) were nursing beers at a modest West Village bar, some place on Sixth Avenue, not far from the West 4th Street station. It was late-ish, maybe 10 or 10:30 pm. A straight-looking guy (mid 30ish, dark gray suit, slicked down hair) strolled in and sat next to Dave. He ordered a drink, struck up a little chit-chat. I was on Dave’s left side, the 30ish guy (let’s call him Fred) on his right. Fred fiddled around for a minute or two and then came to the point: “I’ve got excellent liquor at home…you guys wanna come over?” No, don’t think so, thanks anyway. “I’m only a couple of blocks away.” We’re good, thanks just the same. But Fred was on a mission. A little more chatter followed. Then Fred came to the point: “Have you ever had your ass sucked?” Fred finally gave up a minute or two later. He never touched his drink.