Like Sailor Moon and Ron Swanson before him, Hodor belongs to a special league of TV characters who have become memes. When Kristian Nairn received the casting call for a role in which he would only utter one word over and over, he was ambivalent. “Do I really want to do this?” he asked himself, feeling apprehensive about playing a verbally challenged giant who can only say “Hodor.” Fans of Game of Thrones can thank Nairn’s mother who, as an avid reader of George R. R. Martin’s novels, convinced him to take the part.

There’s fan art, a smartphone app, GIFs, supercuts, and even a joke in the official Google search results for “Hodor.” “That stuff really takes me to the fair,” Nairn says of his Hodor’s second life online. “I just think the character is endearing. Out of all the people in Westeros who are trying to cut each other’s throats, he’s really a pure soul – the only warm, fuzzy feeling you’re going to get.” 

Nairn is well-aware of how much power he yields as the actor behind the most beloved character on the internet’s favorite TV show — the most pirated show of all time. And he’s using this unique position to promote his other passion: house music. When Nairn isn’t shooting Game of Thrones in Ireland, he’s touring the planet spinning house. It’s a grueling schedule that has taken its toll. “I had to stop at one stage there because I was going to die. I hadn’t been home for nearly seven months.” 

Nairn is still touring regularly, but in smaller bursts. And he’s embracing the world’s bottomless enthusiasm for his other gig. His tour is titled “Rave of Thrones” and fans are encouraged to come dressed up as their favorite characters from the show. “Don’t blame me for that,” Nairn says, acknowledging the theme wasn’t his idea. “People are going to think you’re some twat,” he says. “I have this opportunity to have a supercharged DJ career. Who in their right mind is going to say, ‘No, I don’t think so.’”

Nairn has had more time to focus on music in the past few years as his character’s storyline has been put on hold by Game of Thrones’ writers. “I missed him last year. I missed the costume, even though it smells,” Nairn says, pointing out that his woolen getup reeks of death. After an episode featuring Hodor and his gang slaughtering rabbits, the wardrobe department covered his already-thick costume in rabbit carcasses. “If you look closely, you’ll see little rabbit feet and asses. There’s ears and stuff hanging off the costume. There are little faces. It lives in props and you can literally smell it before you see it."

When legendary rocker Alice Cooper moved into a mansion in Connecticut, the locals ran for cover — all except Bette Davis, who asked him to turn the volume up. Also, when the author of the latest James Bond novel threw shade on Idris Elba as the fan-favorite choice for a black James Bond, the internet struck back. And the musical “Mamma Mia!” ends an improbable Broadway run.

Starting in 1969 on "Laugh-In," Lily Tomlin has created and played a whole theatre troupe’s worth of characters. But her latest — a ballsy, fiercely protective grandmother in the movie "Grandma" — might be the closest to her real self. Also, we hear from the composer of the theme song for “Seinfeld” about his reaction to the trend of mashing up pop songs with his most famous tune. And the Pulitzer-winning playwright Annie Baker talks about why some people love her work — and others can’t stand it.

In the mid-90s, rappers from the East Coast to the West convinced an entire generation to consume malt liquor in “40s”— 40-ounce glass bottles that delivered the alcohol equivalent of a six-pack in one serving. Songs like N.W.A.’s “8 Ball” glamorized the cheap, potent beer alternative. The brewery that made St. Ides exploited the rap-malt liquor connection, putting all the stars of the era in commercials, from Ice Cube to Notorious B.I.G. to Snoop Dogg, who memorably slow jammed his tribute to 40s:

At their peak, 40s made headlines and spawned editorials. The Los Angeles Times in 1992 explored the widespread backlash to malt liquor, claiming  that “shrewd advertising in ethnic neighborhoods” had “turned it into a status symbol.” Soon, though, 40s disappeared from hip-hop. “Right in the mid- to late-90s, rap culture took a serious turn from sitting in the hood drinking a 40 to sitting in the club drinking champagne,” says Besha Rodell, an LA Weekly food writer who penned the first history of the drink, “40 Ounces to Freedom.” “Rap culture became about having money. There’s nothing fancy about drinking malt liquor.”

But the 40 survives. I still like my high school drink of choice — Olde English malt liquor mixed with orange juice, a concoction known as the Brass Monkey. I was introduced to it by friends who pointed out that it was the subject of a Beastie Boys song, also called “Brass Monkey.” But when I called Mike D to talk about his inspiration, he was confused: malt liquor? In a Brass Monkey? It turns out that the Brass Monkey he was singing about was a cocktail comprised of orange juice, vodka, and dark rum, which came premixed in a can. “Homeboy,” Mike said, “have you ever used Google in your life?”

(This episode of Sideshow first aired last summer — June 10, 2014 — but it's a gift that keeps on giving.)

This week's show is all about crime: author Sue Grafton had never tried to write a mystery before “A Is for Alibi,” the first novel in her Kinsey Millhone series. Now that she’s on “X,” she’s getting ready for a well-deserved party. And we hear from Joshua Oppenheimer, director of the documentaries “The Act of Killing” and “The Look of Silence,” two films about a genocide whose perpetrators were surprisingly proud of their work. And one of the world’s most prolific art forgers can’t be prosecuted, because he never accepted a penny for his fakes.

(Segments in this week's show aired previously.)

In his latest movie, “The End of the Tour,” Jason Segel stretches from the goofy, lovable characters he normally plays to the role of the tragic genius David Foster Wallace. Also, the writer and director of “The Diary of a Teenage Girl,” Marielle Heller, explains why a relationship between a 15-year-old girl and a 35-year-old man might be empowering. And the indie rock band Yo La Tengo agrees to play a cover of your choosing.

Jonathan Wolff is the Michael Jordan of TV theme songs. He’s written over 40, from Will and Grace to The Hughleys. Before becoming Hollywood’s go-to theme song writer, Wolff spent a decade as a “multi-purpose utility tool for musical chores” — a studio musician, a music producer, and a recording engineer. He even taught Arnold Schwarzenegger how to act as a violinist for Stay Hungry. Eventually, Wolff started composing exclusively, which landed him a gig on the Seinfeld pilot. 

The show’s producers were having difficulty finding music that wouldn’t overpower the comedian’s opening routines. “Jerry, you’ve already given me the melody and theme,” Wolff told Seinfeld. “My job is going to be to support you and the organic nature of your voice.”  Wolff sampled his own mouth noises and slapped some funky bass over it and the rest is history. He built the theme to be manipulated — the rhythm of the mouth pops, shakers, and bass notes changed ever so slightly to fit the different monologues that opened every show. Decades later, the internet has begun to manipulate it, too:  

Special thanks to Reed Dunlea, who wrote about Jonathan Wolff for Vice. 

AUDIO CORRECTION: Jonathan Wolff has written music for over 70 TV shows, but penned themes for only 44 of them. He retired in 2005, not 2000. 

The actor and screenwriter Simon Pegg explains how he went from making funny genre flicks with his buddies to starring in some of Hollywood’s biggest franchises — “Star Wars,” “Star Trek,” and “Mission: Impossible.” Also, the musical duo The Bird and the Bee performs their lush, catchy retro-pop live in our studio. And a British bookie explains why you can bet on just about anything — except who will perform the next Bond theme.

This is the novel about racism that America couldn't ignore.