Whenever someone asks me why I like Deadwood, I think from now on I'm simply respond with Swearengen's threat to E.B.: "Gabriel's trumpet will produce you from the ass of a pig."

The adjective colorful does not begin to suggest the wondrous qualities of Deadwood's language. Having always been someone who preferred the cinematic, I'm a little surprised by how much I enjoy the language of Deadwood. As is the case when I listen to Shakespeare, I find myself completely absorbed in language of which I understand only about 70%. Rather than catch each and every phrase, I succeed in only following the linguistic drift. It's an interesting and oddly compelling sensation that I can also liken to the experience you might have when you're trying to apply classroom knowledge of a foreign language when speaking to a native.

The opacity of Deadwood's language might be one of the reasons that it hasn't taken off like the Sopranos. But the shadows of the sepia-toned Western town can work their magic if you stop expecting to understand each and every word. Yuu will find yourself enjoying the cadence of the language. Yes, Deadwood's language can feel as if it's as muddy as its streets but that earth is truly fertile stuff. (yeah, i'm stretching with that metaphor.)