We begin Season 3 with Bodie, Poot, and some other Barksdale Gang foot soldier whose name does not immediately register walking down a Baltimore alleyway. But names are very unimportant in this cat-and-mouse game -- what is important is that the City is about to implode the Franklin Terrace Towers -- "which sadly came to represent some of this city's most entrenched problems," exposits Mayor Royce (Glynn Turman) at a nearby civic event to commemorate said implosion. That fills Poot with a sense of inexplicable melancholy that he, nevertheless, tries to make explicable. "I mean, I done seen some shit up in them Towers that still make me smile, yo," Poot says. Such as? "I caught my first pussy up in there," Poot exclaims. Well, that's an entirely different matter altogether. Now Bodie, who up until now had taken a rather unsentimental attitude toward the Franklin Terrace Towers -- "they should have blown those motherfuckers up a long time ago, you ask me" -- is ready to call the Historic Preservation Society of Great Baltimore to file an immediate injunction: "They could put up a big sign that says, 'Here's Where Malik Carr First Got His Dick Wet.'" And I know we're busting on Poot and all, and having a cruel laugh at his expense, but really, wouldn't any of us hope that the setting of our first time be preserved forever? Never, ever get torn down, Arby's restroom on Interstate 5 -- never. Er...perhaps I've said too much, and only a paragraph into this season. Anyhow, the true sorrow and the pity of the Towers' imminent demise is not the lost setting of Poot's first romantic assignation, or the diseases that Bodie suggested he probably contracted when in flagrante delicto, or even the tremendous amount of bluster emanating from the piehole of Mayor Royce, the most ineffectual fictional mayor since the incompetent McCheese administration. No, it's the fact that the Towers are Barksdale Gang territory. "Now these downtown suit-wearing-ass bitches done snatched up the best territory in the city from y'all," Bodie observes. "You wanna cry over some shit? Cry over that." No time for tears here: Mayor Royce is about to push the plunger that sends the Franklin Terrace Towers off to building heaven. He does so to great cheers -- and an even greater cloud of smoke and dust that quickly envelops the once-cheering, now-coughing multitudes. Hmmm...the best-laid plans seem to have gone quickly awry here. Oh well -- I'm sure that's not metaphorical or anything. And all this is well and good, but I was given the impression that this show was about Polish-American dockworkers, and I don't seem to see them anywhere.