Some of you are aware of the recent remake of Battlestar Galactica that aired on the SciFi channel (now ridiculously labeled "Syfy"). Some of you are not. When it began, I was a huge fan. I even still claim that the first season of the show is one of the shining examples of science fiction found on television... ever. But I also claim that the show quickly devolved into garbage, perpetuated largely by the thoroughly unhelpful "fanboy syndrome" (which also includes fangirls... I'm not entirely sexist, you know) of which the two showrunners completely fell for.
Many of you probably don't care, but I used to write about (well, complain about) the series quite often. I made several criticisms and several predictions that eventually proved to be misguided and incorrect, but made just as many that proved to be on-track and totally right. What's this mean? Nothing, really, except that I'm sometimes right and sometimes wrong, just like everyone else.
Anyway, since my brain is not allowing me to think of a better Irrewind topic, here you go:
"Battlestar Galactica, Season 3: A Bad Start"
The error of this, quite obviously, lies in characterization. Suddenly, because we are expected to acknowledge that 16 months of change just occured, characters are acting what seems to be "out of character." Starbuck, in what was the single most stupid subplot of the premiere, is now acting like a mother to her supposed half-Cylon child. Lee... Read More
"Battlestar Galactica: Returning to Form? Or Saying Goodbye?"
I'm a science fiction geek; most of you know that. And, as such, I happen to really like the SciFi network television series Battlestar Galactica. Generally, it is not only the best science fiction series on the small screen, it is also one of the best drama series on the small screen. Yes, it belongs in the same sentence as House, CSI, Law & Order... Read More
"Battlestar What-the-Heck-tica"
At the end of the second season of Battlestar Galactica, the writers of the show decided to leave us with a bad taste in our mouths by jumping "one year later" and robbing us of much plot and character development. Not a mistake those same writers would let go quietly, they decided to one-up themselves and leave us with a bad taste in our... Read More
"Battlestar Galactica: From Great to Lazy"
Where's my proof? Well, just take a look at the silly "Final Five" Cylon concept. Initially, we were led to believe that there were 12 "human" Cylons, infiltrated in the RTF and causing all sorts of problems. Eventually, only 7 of those Cylons were revealed, leaving us wondering who the last 5 were. But, instead of drawing it out, keeping us guessing... Read More
"Battlestar Galactica: Ultimately Pointless"
If you're even half of a science fiction fan, you know by now that the "re-imagined" version of Battlestar Galactica aired its series finale last Friday. In it, the fugitive Colonials finally defeated the mean Cylons (with the help of some friendly Cylons) and settled on Earth. Our Earth, mind you; not the one they were looking for, which was a... Read More
Showing posts with label Battlestar Galactica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Battlestar Galactica. Show all posts
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
End of Year End-of-Yearings
Another year is coming to a close. Good-bye, 2009... you were, well, a little weird. If I haven't written about all your weirdness already, I'm sure I'll get to it next year. Other than that, I met a lot of cool people in 2009, including "re-meeting" some cool people. I also disconnected with some people, some on purpose (which is rather odd for me, as friends can attest to) and some on accident (which happens more than I care to admit).
2009 (Really) Quick Review:
The Padres sucked and the Chargers rocked. Here's hoping the Chargers make it to the Super Bowl...
The Battlestar Galactica finale was, er, garbage.
Um... did anything else happen in 2009? I forget...
Blog Notes:
Anyway, I decided to cease and desist the MySpace mirror for this blog (some might have noticed the "Subscribe via MySpace" widget disappearing on December 8th... then again, probably not). I was going to wait until New Year's before I stopped the mirror, but MySpace decided to go ahead and block Blogspot/Blogger links again, so I gave up on the 11th. Anybody who still gets notifications from MySpace needs to subscribe via one of the other methods. No, I'm not deleting my MySpace account, and if MySpace gets with the program and decides to offer some sort of automatic feed posting, then I'll take advantage of it. But, until such time, au revoir MySpace Blogs!
I'm also going to make the Irrewind column into a bi-weekly one. Or, rather, the first and third Saturdays of each month. Why? For no other reason than that I am kinda lazy... and that I did the math: my Irrewinds would outrun (so to speak) my posting frequency if I kept them up weekly.
In other news: One-Line Movie Reviews will henceforth be known as Irreview! What does "irreview" mean? Nothing!
In Conclusion:
I clearly have nothing profound to pass along, so enough of this.
Happy New Year!
2009 (Really) Quick Review:
The Padres sucked and the Chargers rocked. Here's hoping the Chargers make it to the Super Bowl...
The Battlestar Galactica finale was, er, garbage.
Um... did anything else happen in 2009? I forget...
Blog Notes:
Anyway, I decided to cease and desist the MySpace mirror for this blog (some might have noticed the "Subscribe via MySpace" widget disappearing on December 8th... then again, probably not). I was going to wait until New Year's before I stopped the mirror, but MySpace decided to go ahead and block Blogspot/Blogger links again, so I gave up on the 11th. Anybody who still gets notifications from MySpace needs to subscribe via one of the other methods. No, I'm not deleting my MySpace account, and if MySpace gets with the program and decides to offer some sort of automatic feed posting, then I'll take advantage of it. But, until such time, au revoir MySpace Blogs!
I'm also going to make the Irrewind column into a bi-weekly one. Or, rather, the first and third Saturdays of each month. Why? For no other reason than that I am kinda lazy... and that I did the math: my Irrewinds would outrun (so to speak) my posting frequency if I kept them up weekly.
In other news: One-Line Movie Reviews will henceforth be known as Irreview! What does "irreview" mean? Nothing!
In Conclusion:
I clearly have nothing profound to pass along, so enough of this.
Happy New Year!
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Battlestar Enterprise, Part VI
Well, I was going to take some time to explain what constitutes a decade and a century, given all the half-assed hoopla going around in some circles, but once again, a football game decided to last longer than it should have. So...
This is the final part of Battlestar Enterprise that was written. I kinda got tired of it, as I'm sure most of you have. Which means the anti-fans can cheer up! You probably won't have to see one of these again!
***
"Man, fuck this shit 'n shit," He-Boomer said aloud, to no one in particular. He appreciated the fact he was back behind the stick very much, but he also couldn't stand being on a search mission for the old man's kid. David Adama was a moron, and everybody knew it. The guy would run around spouting fairness all day long, and even advocated civilization's return to the Stone Age. What a fucking idiot. What possible advantage could that have?
"What was that?" squawked the radio. It was StarHeBuck, still sore, no doubt, at being forced to have a sex-change. It was blind luck that Enterprise had found a ship-full of doctors in the middle of nowhere. One of those "deus ex machina" things that seemed to happen more often than not as of late.
"Nothing 'n shit," He-Boomer replied. "Keep your motherfucking attention on the sensors."
"I have a question," another voice declared over comms. This time it was Jolly, whom everyone referred to as the King of the Cameo. "Why the fuck didn't we take a Raptor on this mission? Vipers aren't exactly equipped for long-range surveillance, you know?"
He-Boomer grimaced. Jolly had always been the voice of reason, even after his decades-long disappearance. He had been captured by the Cylons during a Black Ops mission, then inexplicably let go. Sure, Jolly's fanboys tried to make fan-sense of the situation, but no matter how hard any of those idiots tried, the stories just didn't hold up under scrutiny. "Probably because someone forgot about them when writing up the OpOrder 'n shit. Shut the fuck up and fly 'n shit."
***
James T. Adama was biting his fingernails. He hadn't done that since he was in the cockpit of a fighter, and Saul Spock took notice. Spock raised that inquiring eyebrow like he always did, prompting Adama to put his hands in his pockets for a round of pocket polo.
"I heard radio chatter," Adama said pointedly to Duhura, mocha legs still oozing sex appeal in the dim light of the CIC.
"It's just He-Boomer, sir. He's just irritated as usual."
Adama turned to his CAG, Jackson "Ripper" Chakotay, an otherwise worthless character of man who Adama had thought was killed during the Cylon invasion. Chakotay knew what Adama was going to ask and preempted the question.
"You think I should send out more birds, Captain?"
Adama shook his head. Is it too much to ask to be referred to as Admiral around this fucking ship?
"I think so," Adama half-murmured, trying to hide his disdain for the apparent lack of recognition for his promotion. Fine, Roslin wasn't the "real" President, but she promoted him, so that counts for something, right? "What do you think?"
Chakotay nodded before even considering the question. He was nothing but a silly ethnic yes-man, after all. "Whatever you say, sir."
Adama shook he head again, almost in disbelief at the stupidity that runs around Enterprise. He was starting to worry that he was never going to find his son.
***
She-Boomer sat watching David's Viper as it just floated along in space. She could see David was talking to somebody, or maybe himself, but he didn't seem to acknowledge that she was there. She-Boomer turned to Crashdown and Helo.
"What do you make of this, guys?"
Helo got up from the ECMO seat and stuck his head between She-Boomer and Crashdown. He was so jealous of Crashdown, who got to sit close enough to She-Boomer and could smell her perfume. Silica, he thought it was.
"Don't know. Maybe he's got one of those STDs that fucks with the brain."
She-Boomer slapped Helo playfully. She wanted very much to rip his clothes off and eat him up alive, but with Crashdown there, such an action wasn't advised. She didn't know why she had such thoughts. She was very much in love with Montgomery Tyrol, but the Chief was packing on the pounds lately, and the last time they had sex he almost crushed her. That, and she could swear she smelled Cally's lipstick on him.
Suddenly, a bright flash of light.
She-Boomer, Helo, and Crashdown stared awestruck out the cockpit. Another Viper had just materialized out of thin air. And in the vacuum of deep space, no less.
***
This is the final part of Battlestar Enterprise that was written. I kinda got tired of it, as I'm sure most of you have. Which means the anti-fans can cheer up! You probably won't have to see one of these again!
- Battlestar Enterprise, Part I
- Battlestar Enterprise, Part II
- Battlestar Enterprise, Part III
- Battlestar Enterprise, Part IV
- Battlestar Enterprise, Part V
***
"Man, fuck this shit 'n shit," He-Boomer said aloud, to no one in particular. He appreciated the fact he was back behind the stick very much, but he also couldn't stand being on a search mission for the old man's kid. David Adama was a moron, and everybody knew it. The guy would run around spouting fairness all day long, and even advocated civilization's return to the Stone Age. What a fucking idiot. What possible advantage could that have?
"What was that?" squawked the radio. It was StarHeBuck, still sore, no doubt, at being forced to have a sex-change. It was blind luck that Enterprise had found a ship-full of doctors in the middle of nowhere. One of those "deus ex machina" things that seemed to happen more often than not as of late.
"Nothing 'n shit," He-Boomer replied. "Keep your motherfucking attention on the sensors."
"I have a question," another voice declared over comms. This time it was Jolly, whom everyone referred to as the King of the Cameo. "Why the fuck didn't we take a Raptor on this mission? Vipers aren't exactly equipped for long-range surveillance, you know?"
He-Boomer grimaced. Jolly had always been the voice of reason, even after his decades-long disappearance. He had been captured by the Cylons during a Black Ops mission, then inexplicably let go. Sure, Jolly's fanboys tried to make fan-sense of the situation, but no matter how hard any of those idiots tried, the stories just didn't hold up under scrutiny. "Probably because someone forgot about them when writing up the OpOrder 'n shit. Shut the fuck up and fly 'n shit."
***
James T. Adama was biting his fingernails. He hadn't done that since he was in the cockpit of a fighter, and Saul Spock took notice. Spock raised that inquiring eyebrow like he always did, prompting Adama to put his hands in his pockets for a round of pocket polo.
"I heard radio chatter," Adama said pointedly to Duhura, mocha legs still oozing sex appeal in the dim light of the CIC.
"It's just He-Boomer, sir. He's just irritated as usual."
Adama turned to his CAG, Jackson "Ripper" Chakotay, an otherwise worthless character of man who Adama had thought was killed during the Cylon invasion. Chakotay knew what Adama was going to ask and preempted the question.
"You think I should send out more birds, Captain?"
Adama shook his head. Is it too much to ask to be referred to as Admiral around this fucking ship?
"I think so," Adama half-murmured, trying to hide his disdain for the apparent lack of recognition for his promotion. Fine, Roslin wasn't the "real" President, but she promoted him, so that counts for something, right? "What do you think?"
Chakotay nodded before even considering the question. He was nothing but a silly ethnic yes-man, after all. "Whatever you say, sir."
Adama shook he head again, almost in disbelief at the stupidity that runs around Enterprise. He was starting to worry that he was never going to find his son.
***
She-Boomer sat watching David's Viper as it just floated along in space. She could see David was talking to somebody, or maybe himself, but he didn't seem to acknowledge that she was there. She-Boomer turned to Crashdown and Helo.
"What do you make of this, guys?"
Helo got up from the ECMO seat and stuck his head between She-Boomer and Crashdown. He was so jealous of Crashdown, who got to sit close enough to She-Boomer and could smell her perfume. Silica, he thought it was.
"Don't know. Maybe he's got one of those STDs that fucks with the brain."
She-Boomer slapped Helo playfully. She wanted very much to rip his clothes off and eat him up alive, but with Crashdown there, such an action wasn't advised. She didn't know why she had such thoughts. She was very much in love with Montgomery Tyrol, but the Chief was packing on the pounds lately, and the last time they had sex he almost crushed her. That, and she could swear she smelled Cally's lipstick on him.
Suddenly, a bright flash of light.
She-Boomer, Helo, and Crashdown stared awestruck out the cockpit. Another Viper had just materialized out of thin air. And in the vacuum of deep space, no less.
***
Monday, December 14, 2009
Battlestar Enterprise, Part V
Well, as the night game between the New York Giants and the Philadelphia Eagles ran a bit late, I was remiss in my preparation to write something new (ironically, I was going with sports-related), so I'm resorting to posting another edition of Battlestar Enterprise. For those who hate these, don't fret; there's only one more after this one!
***
David blinked his eyes. He couldn't see anything but bright, white light. He was still in his Viper, but She-Boomer's Raptor was nowhere to be found. Silly him... why did he get so close to the anomaly? After all, it's the Raptor that is equipped with the necessary sensors to properly analyze it. All the Viper can do is identify friend or foe and shoot at the damned thing. Eh, it was probably the scientist in him. Why, oh, why, didn't his dad let him be a Raptor flight officer? Probably because that would've made too much sense for such a muddled continuity.
A shape appeared. Another viper. This one seemed different somehow. It looked brand new. As it drifted closer to him, he could make out a pilot in its cockpit. Blond hair. Way out of her acting depth. StarSheBuck? Wasn't she still on Galactiprise?
***
StarSheBuck ran down the corridors of Galactica, er, Enterprise. Ah, fuck it, we'll just stick with Galactiprise and ret-con shit right now. Anyway, StarSheBuck ran down the corridors of Galactiprise, listening to the music in her intergalactic iPod. The beat of the music matched the beat of her cadence, and she was sublimely aware that the music was guiding her around the ship. Of course, she had no idea that she forgot her iPod in her room and was listening to a random paranormal signal being transmitted directly to her brain by the Imperious Leader of folk rock, Dylan Hendrix Baltar. He did, after all, want to fuck the shit out of her. What better way to do that than convince a woman that she's a messenger from Zeus?
"There must be some kind of way out here," she said, slowing to a quick walk.
A nearby marine was rummaging through an unattended backpack, probably trying to steal some cigarettes. He looked up at StarSheBuck, a slightly confused look on his face. "Pilot quarters are aft, two decks down."
"I know where the pilot quarters are, Jarhead. I fucking live there." StarSheBuck rarely had time for significant conversation, or even a thank you.
"What are you, some kind of joker?" The marine did not look amused.
StarSheBuck picked up her gait, suddenly aware what the marine was doing. "What are you, some kind of thief?"
This is all too confusing.
***
David keyed his radio, not entirely expecting an answer. "StarSheBuck? Kara, is that you?"
"Who the fuck do you think it is, you fucking pansy." It was not a question.
Satisfied that was really StarSheBuck, I mean, really, who else but the real StarSheBuck would talk like that, David waved at her. "What's all this white light?"
A strange voice cackled over the speaker. It was He-Boomer. "Oh, you gotta go there 'n shit. White light, my ass. Fuck you honkey bitches."
StarSheBuck and David looked at each other, wondered for a moment what the Hell, er, Hades, er, Underworld that communication was. They stared into each other's eyes. David noticed his groin was getting a bit tight. He was going to profess his undying love for StarSheBuck when she started laughing.
"What's funny? We're lost, She-Boomer's gone, and I have to pee."
StarSheBuck rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."
David got defensive. "How is it my fault vipers don't have bathrooms? Fuck, Raptors have bathrooms."
"I've been to Earth, David. And I'm going to take us there."
What? Now David was really confused. What the fuck is Earth? And which one? And does it have pigeons?
***
- Battlestar Enterprise, Part I
- Battlestar Enterprise, Part II
- Battlestar Enterprise, Part III
- Battlestar Enterprise, Part IV
***
David blinked his eyes. He couldn't see anything but bright, white light. He was still in his Viper, but She-Boomer's Raptor was nowhere to be found. Silly him... why did he get so close to the anomaly? After all, it's the Raptor that is equipped with the necessary sensors to properly analyze it. All the Viper can do is identify friend or foe and shoot at the damned thing. Eh, it was probably the scientist in him. Why, oh, why, didn't his dad let him be a Raptor flight officer? Probably because that would've made too much sense for such a muddled continuity.
A shape appeared. Another viper. This one seemed different somehow. It looked brand new. As it drifted closer to him, he could make out a pilot in its cockpit. Blond hair. Way out of her acting depth. StarSheBuck? Wasn't she still on Galactiprise?
***
StarSheBuck ran down the corridors of Galactica, er, Enterprise. Ah, fuck it, we'll just stick with Galactiprise and ret-con shit right now. Anyway, StarSheBuck ran down the corridors of Galactiprise, listening to the music in her intergalactic iPod. The beat of the music matched the beat of her cadence, and she was sublimely aware that the music was guiding her around the ship. Of course, she had no idea that she forgot her iPod in her room and was listening to a random paranormal signal being transmitted directly to her brain by the Imperious Leader of folk rock, Dylan Hendrix Baltar. He did, after all, want to fuck the shit out of her. What better way to do that than convince a woman that she's a messenger from Zeus?
"There must be some kind of way out here," she said, slowing to a quick walk.
A nearby marine was rummaging through an unattended backpack, probably trying to steal some cigarettes. He looked up at StarSheBuck, a slightly confused look on his face. "Pilot quarters are aft, two decks down."
"I know where the pilot quarters are, Jarhead. I fucking live there." StarSheBuck rarely had time for significant conversation, or even a thank you.
"What are you, some kind of joker?" The marine did not look amused.
StarSheBuck picked up her gait, suddenly aware what the marine was doing. "What are you, some kind of thief?"
This is all too confusing.
***
David keyed his radio, not entirely expecting an answer. "StarSheBuck? Kara, is that you?"
"Who the fuck do you think it is, you fucking pansy." It was not a question.
Satisfied that was really StarSheBuck, I mean, really, who else but the real StarSheBuck would talk like that, David waved at her. "What's all this white light?"
A strange voice cackled over the speaker. It was He-Boomer. "Oh, you gotta go there 'n shit. White light, my ass. Fuck you honkey bitches."
StarSheBuck and David looked at each other, wondered for a moment what the Hell, er, Hades, er, Underworld that communication was. They stared into each other's eyes. David noticed his groin was getting a bit tight. He was going to profess his undying love for StarSheBuck when she started laughing.
"What's funny? We're lost, She-Boomer's gone, and I have to pee."
StarSheBuck rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."
David got defensive. "How is it my fault vipers don't have bathrooms? Fuck, Raptors have bathrooms."
"I've been to Earth, David. And I'm going to take us there."
What? Now David was really confused. What the fuck is Earth? And which one? And does it have pigeons?
***
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Battlestar Enterprise, Part IV
Still somewhat in the creative doldrums, so here's BSE:IV in all its glory.
Anyone irreverent enough can read the previous parts here:
Part IV originally posted April 11, 2009
***
James T. Adama paced impatiently as he waited for news of his son. Suddenly, the radio screamed to life. On it, David Adama was screaming, too, like a little bitch.
"Dad? Dad? You there dad? Hello? Does this thing even fucking work?"
"David, what's going on?" Adama asked his son over the wireless. "Are you getting a good visual?"
"Yes, dad," came the reply.
Adama rolled his eyes. Will no one call him Admiral? He earned it, after all. Fuck, he was the only surviving command officer in the entire universe as far as he knew. That's worth a promotion, right?
"Is it what we thought it was?"
"I think so. It's very coherent, lots of continuity."
Adama turned to his XO, Spock. "What do you think, Saul?"
"I'm not sure. We should contact Gaeta and have Baltar transferred over here to run some diagnostics."
"Make it so."
Adama was about to hang up his transmitter when the squelch broke.
"Oh, shit," came his son's voice.
"What is it, David?"
Silence. Spock and Adama exchanged concerned glances, then Adama keyed the mike again. "David? Come in. What is it?"
The only response was more silence.
***
"This is He-Boomer in the slot, trying to sound all military 'n shit. Ready to launch." He-Boomer flexed his hands as he placed them on the HOTAS. He'd been grounded far too long. For him, it was about fucking time. He knew why he'd been grounded, too, because despite all that bullshit about this new Galactica, er, Enterprise being all politically correct, he was the only black pilot they had, and these white fucks running the show didn't want He-Boomer to whoop up on some pale ass. Fuck 'em.
"This is Kelly. You're a go."
"Hey, Kelly, can we do that go-no-go shit they sometimes do to sound cool 'n shit?"
"No, you fucking idiot."
"Why you gotta be all racist 'n shit?"
"Good-bye."
He-Boomer felt the jolt of the catapult as his Viper shot down the launch tube. There he was, flying into the deep unknowns of space in order to save Adama's stupid-ass kid. He-Boomer checked his perimeter and spotted his wingmen joining up with him. StarHeBuck, Hot Dog, and Jolly were forming up on schedule.
"Everyone good 'n shit?"
Three affirmatives echoed in his earpiece, and He-Boomer flexed his hands again.
"Then let's go find the old man's punk-ass kid 'n shit."
***
Anyone irreverent enough can read the previous parts here:
Part IV originally posted April 11, 2009
***
James T. Adama paced impatiently as he waited for news of his son. Suddenly, the radio screamed to life. On it, David Adama was screaming, too, like a little bitch.
"Dad? Dad? You there dad? Hello? Does this thing even fucking work?"
"David, what's going on?" Adama asked his son over the wireless. "Are you getting a good visual?"
"Yes, dad," came the reply.
Adama rolled his eyes. Will no one call him Admiral? He earned it, after all. Fuck, he was the only surviving command officer in the entire universe as far as he knew. That's worth a promotion, right?
"Is it what we thought it was?"
"I think so. It's very coherent, lots of continuity."
Adama turned to his XO, Spock. "What do you think, Saul?"
"I'm not sure. We should contact Gaeta and have Baltar transferred over here to run some diagnostics."
"Make it so."
Adama was about to hang up his transmitter when the squelch broke.
"Oh, shit," came his son's voice.
"What is it, David?"
Silence. Spock and Adama exchanged concerned glances, then Adama keyed the mike again. "David? Come in. What is it?"
The only response was more silence.
***
"This is He-Boomer in the slot, trying to sound all military 'n shit. Ready to launch." He-Boomer flexed his hands as he placed them on the HOTAS. He'd been grounded far too long. For him, it was about fucking time. He knew why he'd been grounded, too, because despite all that bullshit about this new Galactica, er, Enterprise being all politically correct, he was the only black pilot they had, and these white fucks running the show didn't want He-Boomer to whoop up on some pale ass. Fuck 'em.
"This is Kelly. You're a go."
"Hey, Kelly, can we do that go-no-go shit they sometimes do to sound cool 'n shit?"
"No, you fucking idiot."
"Why you gotta be all racist 'n shit?"
"Good-bye."
He-Boomer felt the jolt of the catapult as his Viper shot down the launch tube. There he was, flying into the deep unknowns of space in order to save Adama's stupid-ass kid. He-Boomer checked his perimeter and spotted his wingmen joining up with him. StarHeBuck, Hot Dog, and Jolly were forming up on schedule.
"Everyone good 'n shit?"
Three affirmatives echoed in his earpiece, and He-Boomer flexed his hands again.
"Then let's go find the old man's punk-ass kid 'n shit."
***
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Battlestar Enterprise, Part III
Yep, it's back... primarily because I'm having trouble finding inspiration, but partially because the television movie, Battlestar Galactica: The Plan , is making waves among science fiction fandom. If initial reports are to be believed, the "movie" makes a disappointing show even worse. Ah, well...
Keep in mind as you read this that it was written as sort of an "angry response" to how the series declined in quality. It's all meant to be satire, as bad and vulgar as it is.
Battlestar Enterprise, Part I
Battlestar Enterprise, Part II
Part III originally posted on January 12, 2009
***
"David, do you have a visual on the anomaly?" James Adama's voice was unusually tense. He didn't mind unidentified contacts; he just hated anomalies. They were always so anomalous.
The signal broke squelch and David's voice piped through the speaker. "Yes, dad."
"What is it?" And it's Admiral, asshole. Or sir, at the very least.
"Not too sure. It appears to be a tight plot, well-written characters, and..."
The signal went dead. James turned to his communications officer, Duhura.
"What happened?"
Duhura swiveled in her chair, showing off her smooth, mocha-hued legs. Adama had to force himself not to kneel to get a better look up Duhura's combat fatigue-patterned miniskirt.
"I'm not sure, Admiral, but it appears that a scientifically accurate overriding signal is interrupting our story."
James was confused. This made no sense... no sense at all. Someone had actually called him "Admiral."
"Spock, what do you make of this?" he asked, not entirely expecting a coherent answer.
"Tight plot? Well-written characters? Such a logical thing to strive for," Spock started. "Anomalous, indeed."
***
Montgomery Tyrol stared out the porthole with his binoculars, scanning space in a futile attempt to try to see the anomaly. He always worried when She-Boomer went out on patrols, particularly with that moron, David Adama. Sure, David was the old man's son, but that apple fell so far from the tree that had Eve found it, she would have finished it before ever making it back to Adam, and mankind (well, men at least) would still be living in paradise.
Tyrol was the ship's chief engineer, damage control officer, AIMD chief, command master chief, and ship's laundryman, but he always felt as though he was kept outside the loop. For whatever reason, it was always hard for him to come by information. On the other hand, it was very easy for him to come by doughnuts, and his rapidly expanding waistline served as a constant reminder of this ability.
"Chief?" a sad, quiet little voice asked behind him.
Tyrol turned and found his shadow, Cally. He found her superbly annoying, but she gave good head, and when She-Boomer was out on patrols, well... he had to do something about his sex addiction. It was like he was some sort of machine, or robot. But, never mind, these are foreshadows that are coming way too early. Wouldn't want to give any well-placed hints too early in a story now, would we?
"What is it, Cally?"
"Do you see anything?"
He watched as her chubby pouty face seemed to get more chubby and pouty. It almost made him sick.
"Other than a couple-hundred lonely ships filled with the survivors of a devastating attack on their homeworlds?"
"Oh?" Cally's face lit up with excitement.
Tyrol rolled his eyes. "That's us, you idiot."
Chubby pout returned, Cally sniffled and looked as though she was about to cry.
"Oh, no, don't. I'm sorry." Tyrol grabbed her in a mock hug, pressing her head lightly against his chest. Still, his gaze never left the porthole, though a smile did creep its way across his face. Slowly, subtly, he pressed Cally's head lower, to his stomach, then still lower, and lower.
***
Keep in mind as you read this that it was written as sort of an "angry response" to how the series declined in quality. It's all meant to be satire, as bad and vulgar as it is.
Battlestar Enterprise, Part I
Battlestar Enterprise, Part II
Part III originally posted on January 12, 2009
***
"David, do you have a visual on the anomaly?" James Adama's voice was unusually tense. He didn't mind unidentified contacts; he just hated anomalies. They were always so anomalous.
The signal broke squelch and David's voice piped through the speaker. "Yes, dad."
"What is it?" And it's Admiral, asshole. Or sir, at the very least.
"Not too sure. It appears to be a tight plot, well-written characters, and..."
The signal went dead. James turned to his communications officer, Duhura.
"What happened?"
Duhura swiveled in her chair, showing off her smooth, mocha-hued legs. Adama had to force himself not to kneel to get a better look up Duhura's combat fatigue-patterned miniskirt.
"I'm not sure, Admiral, but it appears that a scientifically accurate overriding signal is interrupting our story."
James was confused. This made no sense... no sense at all. Someone had actually called him "Admiral."
"Spock, what do you make of this?" he asked, not entirely expecting a coherent answer.
"Tight plot? Well-written characters? Such a logical thing to strive for," Spock started. "Anomalous, indeed."
***
Montgomery Tyrol stared out the porthole with his binoculars, scanning space in a futile attempt to try to see the anomaly. He always worried when She-Boomer went out on patrols, particularly with that moron, David Adama. Sure, David was the old man's son, but that apple fell so far from the tree that had Eve found it, she would have finished it before ever making it back to Adam, and mankind (well, men at least) would still be living in paradise.
Tyrol was the ship's chief engineer, damage control officer, AIMD chief, command master chief, and ship's laundryman, but he always felt as though he was kept outside the loop. For whatever reason, it was always hard for him to come by information. On the other hand, it was very easy for him to come by doughnuts, and his rapidly expanding waistline served as a constant reminder of this ability.
"Chief?" a sad, quiet little voice asked behind him.
Tyrol turned and found his shadow, Cally. He found her superbly annoying, but she gave good head, and when She-Boomer was out on patrols, well... he had to do something about his sex addiction. It was like he was some sort of machine, or robot. But, never mind, these are foreshadows that are coming way too early. Wouldn't want to give any well-placed hints too early in a story now, would we?
"What is it, Cally?"
"Do you see anything?"
He watched as her chubby pouty face seemed to get more chubby and pouty. It almost made him sick.
"Other than a couple-hundred lonely ships filled with the survivors of a devastating attack on their homeworlds?"
"Oh?" Cally's face lit up with excitement.
Tyrol rolled his eyes. "That's us, you idiot."
Chubby pout returned, Cally sniffled and looked as though she was about to cry.
"Oh, no, don't. I'm sorry." Tyrol grabbed her in a mock hug, pressing her head lightly against his chest. Still, his gaze never left the porthole, though a smile did creep its way across his face. Slowly, subtly, he pressed Cally's head lower, to his stomach, then still lower, and lower.
***
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Battlestar Enterprise, Part II
Okay, I must admit, Part I of this elicited minimal response, but there are apparently a few more BSG fans following me since that one went up, so I'm gonna give Part II a shot. This one was originally posted on January 10, 2009.
Read the first part here: Battlestar Enterprise, Part I
***
David Adama hated flying. He was, as many have pointed out, a whiny little bastard and the very thought of an aircraft crashing into the ground scared the living shit out of him. Never mind that in space there is no gravity, and he needn't worry of such a thing, but he did anyway. Suddenly in need of a security blanket, he checked his 4 o'clock and made sure the accompanying Raptor was still where it should be.
Naturally, it was, but as David was a whiny little bastard, he keyed his mike and queried for an audio response.
"She-Boomer, you there?"
"Yes, Apollo."
For a moment David thought he could actually hear She-Boomer's eyes rolling. "Just doing my job, She-Boomer. Just checking in."
"I'm fine; you're fine. Would you like to ask Helo and Crashdown if they're fine?"
"Who?"
"My crew, Apollo. The Raptor is, you know, a three-seater, and despite the propensity of other writers never taking advantage of all three seats, this one does, so I have a co-pilot and an ECMO."
Ek-mo, Apollo thought to himself. Ah! It suddenly made sense.
It really wasn't fair that everyone gave him such a hard time. He wasn't a military man by trade, after all. That honor belonged to his twin sister, Davida, and his little brother, James T. Junior.
He didn't like thinking about those two, especially given their histories. He was involved in an incestuous relationship with Davida before finding out she was his sister, and that little fact had made recent family gatherings a little awkward, particularly since he still wanted her. And don't forget the little business that his brother, James T. Junior, who had died during an atmospheric reentry, was also in a sexual relationship with Davida. Davida, in a strange twist of fate, had been one of Junior's flight instructors, and is the only reason Junior passed flight school. Junior, apparently, had no feel for the cockpit, but had a ton of feel for Davida's cock-pit, and Davida willingly screwed every other flight instructor at school in order to secure Junior a passing grade. She'd be damned if she had to tell dad that she failed her brother.
"Apollo, She-Boomer. Come in."
Apollo shook the thought out of his mind and held down a puke. "What's up?"
"Er, the anomaly. We're here."
***
Read the first part here: Battlestar Enterprise, Part I
***
David Adama hated flying. He was, as many have pointed out, a whiny little bastard and the very thought of an aircraft crashing into the ground scared the living shit out of him. Never mind that in space there is no gravity, and he needn't worry of such a thing, but he did anyway. Suddenly in need of a security blanket, he checked his 4 o'clock and made sure the accompanying Raptor was still where it should be.
Naturally, it was, but as David was a whiny little bastard, he keyed his mike and queried for an audio response.
"She-Boomer, you there?"
"Yes, Apollo."
For a moment David thought he could actually hear She-Boomer's eyes rolling. "Just doing my job, She-Boomer. Just checking in."
"I'm fine; you're fine. Would you like to ask Helo and Crashdown if they're fine?"
"Who?"
"My crew, Apollo. The Raptor is, you know, a three-seater, and despite the propensity of other writers never taking advantage of all three seats, this one does, so I have a co-pilot and an ECMO."
Ek-mo, Apollo thought to himself. Ah! It suddenly made sense.
It really wasn't fair that everyone gave him such a hard time. He wasn't a military man by trade, after all. That honor belonged to his twin sister, Davida, and his little brother, James T. Junior.
He didn't like thinking about those two, especially given their histories. He was involved in an incestuous relationship with Davida before finding out she was his sister, and that little fact had made recent family gatherings a little awkward, particularly since he still wanted her. And don't forget the little business that his brother, James T. Junior, who had died during an atmospheric reentry, was also in a sexual relationship with Davida. Davida, in a strange twist of fate, had been one of Junior's flight instructors, and is the only reason Junior passed flight school. Junior, apparently, had no feel for the cockpit, but had a ton of feel for Davida's cock-pit, and Davida willingly screwed every other flight instructor at school in order to secure Junior a passing grade. She'd be damned if she had to tell dad that she failed her brother.
"Apollo, She-Boomer. Come in."
Apollo shook the thought out of his mind and held down a puke. "What's up?"
"Er, the anomaly. We're here."
***
Friday, July 24, 2009
Battlestar Enterprise, Part I
I'm trying to mix things up a bit, so here's an old(er) satire I started late last year (originally posted December 27, 2008. If it's well-received (or received at all), I'll eventually post the rest of it... might even finish it. There are currently six parts, but I've been lazy in the humor department as of late, and I suppose re-posting this is no exception to that.
Admiral James T. Adama strolled through the corridors of his ship, the battlestar Enterprise, as he always did. He liked to show his face to the crew in the morning, to let them know he was watching. They were, after all, a bunch of undisciplined jackasses. He often wondered how the Hell they survived this long. Or, he would have, had the Greek-inspired concept of the bad place in the afterlife been called Hell. Rather, he often wondered how in Hades they survived this long. Or, he would have, had the Greek-inspired concept of the bad place in the afterlife been called Hades. Hades was the god, he regularly pointed out, so he often wondered how in the Underworld they survived this long.
It seemed like his crew was more concerned with trying to gang-bang Persephone than escape the wrath of Hades himself.
Bah. It didn't matter. Today, it appeared, they were doing their jobs, so he wrapped up his little walk and headed to the bridge. Or the CIC. He couldn't remember what it was called.
***
The doors to the CIC whooshed open, because they like to whoosh, and he spotted his first officer, Colonel Saul Spock. Spock was a pointy-eared drunk from a small colony called Hephaestus. It would have been called Vulcan, but the world of Battlestar Enterprise is decidedly Greek and not, as some fools who rely too much on Bulfinch's Mythology would have, Greco-Roman.
"Captain Adama," Spock spoke, seriously slurring sloppily since Saturday, "We are approaching the anomaly."
Anomaly? Not another one. And it's Admiral, you asshole.
"Did you send out a recon?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Who?"
"David's flying escort for She-Boomer."
Oh, great. Love him as he may, James had a problem with his son doing anything that required any sense of responsibility. David Adama, as it was, had a reputation for being confused. He had been a scientist before the Cylon Armaggedon, although nobody called it the Cylon Armaggedon, since the Holy Bible was unknown to them. At any rate, David had been working on some weird "life bomb." Basically, it killed everything on a planet and replaced it with a new planet, replete with flora and fauna. James had secretly hoped they'd use it on Picon, since that colony had such a ridiculously ugly name. Nevertheless, since a battlestar had little need for an actual scientist, and a battlestar series had even less need for a competent science adviser, David was pressed into service as a Viper pilot.
"She-Boomer?" James asked. "I thought He-Boomer had flight detail today."
Spock raised an eyebrow, his typical response when Captain Adama misspoke. "Captain, need I remind you that He-Boomer is a Viper pilot. She-Boomer is the one assigned to the Raptor squadron."
"As I was, Mr. Spock. As I was." He really hated that pointy-eared bastard. And it's fucking Admiral, asshole.
***
Admiral James T. Adama strolled through the corridors of his ship, the battlestar Enterprise, as he always did. He liked to show his face to the crew in the morning, to let them know he was watching. They were, after all, a bunch of undisciplined jackasses. He often wondered how the Hell they survived this long. Or, he would have, had the Greek-inspired concept of the bad place in the afterlife been called Hell. Rather, he often wondered how in Hades they survived this long. Or, he would have, had the Greek-inspired concept of the bad place in the afterlife been called Hades. Hades was the god, he regularly pointed out, so he often wondered how in the Underworld they survived this long.
It seemed like his crew was more concerned with trying to gang-bang Persephone than escape the wrath of Hades himself.
Bah. It didn't matter. Today, it appeared, they were doing their jobs, so he wrapped up his little walk and headed to the bridge. Or the CIC. He couldn't remember what it was called.
***
The doors to the CIC whooshed open, because they like to whoosh, and he spotted his first officer, Colonel Saul Spock. Spock was a pointy-eared drunk from a small colony called Hephaestus. It would have been called Vulcan, but the world of Battlestar Enterprise is decidedly Greek and not, as some fools who rely too much on Bulfinch's Mythology would have, Greco-Roman.
"Captain Adama," Spock spoke, seriously slurring sloppily since Saturday, "We are approaching the anomaly."
Anomaly? Not another one. And it's Admiral, you asshole.
"Did you send out a recon?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Who?"
"David's flying escort for She-Boomer."
Oh, great. Love him as he may, James had a problem with his son doing anything that required any sense of responsibility. David Adama, as it was, had a reputation for being confused. He had been a scientist before the Cylon Armaggedon, although nobody called it the Cylon Armaggedon, since the Holy Bible was unknown to them. At any rate, David had been working on some weird "life bomb." Basically, it killed everything on a planet and replaced it with a new planet, replete with flora and fauna. James had secretly hoped they'd use it on Picon, since that colony had such a ridiculously ugly name. Nevertheless, since a battlestar had little need for an actual scientist, and a battlestar series had even less need for a competent science adviser, David was pressed into service as a Viper pilot.
"She-Boomer?" James asked. "I thought He-Boomer had flight detail today."
Spock raised an eyebrow, his typical response when Captain Adama misspoke. "Captain, need I remind you that He-Boomer is a Viper pilot. She-Boomer is the one assigned to the Raptor squadron."
"As I was, Mr. Spock. As I was." He really hated that pointy-eared bastard. And it's fucking Admiral, asshole.
***
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Battlestar Galactica: Ultimately Pointless
If you're even half of a science fiction fan, you know by now that the "re-imagined" version of Battlestar Galactica aired its series finale last Friday. In it, the fugitive Colonials finally defeated the mean Cylons (with the help of some friendly Cylons) and settled on Earth. Our Earth, mind you; not the one they were looking for, which was a different Earth populated entirely by Cylons who apparently wiped each other out.
A twist, however, reveals that the Colonials arrived at our Earth 150,000 years ago, and that a Cylon-Human hybrid child, Hera (a centerpiece of the series, for those of you who don't watch) is the "mitochondrial Eve."
Silly, I know, and the end result of the show is that, ultimately, it was all for naught.
What? What did I just write? Yeah, you read it... the entire series was an exercise in futility. I'll get to that in a bit, but first some background is in order.
Battlestar Galactica is about a space-faring human civilization that made its home light-years from Earth (the real Earth... ours). There, they colonized 12 planets and enjoyed existence among the stars. Eventually, they created a race of robots (the Cylons) who gained self-awareness and promptly waged war on their human former-masters. The war ended in an armistice, and the Cylons disappeared.
40 years later they return, and just as promptly whoop some serious ass. Now, I'm not going to go into all of the contradictory and completely illogical plot progressions of the series, but basically what happens is that the survivors of humanity (40 or 50k of them) take off in search of Earth, a supposedly mythical place that is the home to a 13th long-forgotten colony.
Their reasons for going there are simple: they need a new home, and they need that colony's help for protection against the Cylons.
Fast-forward to the finale: the Colonials take on the Cylons one last time and, despite the fact that we never see it happen on-screen, all of the bad-guy Cylons are destroyed. The Colonials win. They whooped some ass. And then, for some mysterious reason, they decide to populate the primitive Earth and fly all of their ships into the sun.
Basically, they have a new home, but no protection against the Cylons. And, let's face it, space is huge... there are undoubtedly more Cylons out there still looking for the Colonials. But, whatever.
So why is all this ultimately pointless? Well, think about it. The Colonials won. The illogical writers of the series want us to believe that all the bad Cylons are gone, leaving the Colonials to do whatever the Hell they want.
Put it this way: they could've went home. They could've went back to Kobol, which is supposedly their ancestral home. They could've gone anywhere in the galaxy and settled anywhere they wanted to.
Sure, they're a bit low on population, but they could've bred with the local Earthlings (the product of an extremely unlikely perfect parallel evolution), rebuilt their military strength, and gone back to the 12 Colonies later.
But, they can't. They're stuck. They went all that way to disappear into history. AND THEY COULD'VE WENT HOME. The Cylons were defeated. There was nothing left to fear. They no longer needed to find a new home... they had the choice of five different star systems (the 12 Colonies, Kobol, New Caprica, Earth 1, and Earth 2). They no longer needed protection against the Cylons. The journey was done, over, kaput.
And the messed up part is: they never even had to leave their home system in order to wind up with the same result.
Conclusion: ultimately pointless.
A twist, however, reveals that the Colonials arrived at our Earth 150,000 years ago, and that a Cylon-Human hybrid child, Hera (a centerpiece of the series, for those of you who don't watch) is the "mitochondrial Eve."
Silly, I know, and the end result of the show is that, ultimately, it was all for naught.
What? What did I just write? Yeah, you read it... the entire series was an exercise in futility. I'll get to that in a bit, but first some background is in order.
Battlestar Galactica is about a space-faring human civilization that made its home light-years from Earth (the real Earth... ours). There, they colonized 12 planets and enjoyed existence among the stars. Eventually, they created a race of robots (the Cylons) who gained self-awareness and promptly waged war on their human former-masters. The war ended in an armistice, and the Cylons disappeared.
40 years later they return, and just as promptly whoop some serious ass. Now, I'm not going to go into all of the contradictory and completely illogical plot progressions of the series, but basically what happens is that the survivors of humanity (40 or 50k of them) take off in search of Earth, a supposedly mythical place that is the home to a 13th long-forgotten colony.
Their reasons for going there are simple: they need a new home, and they need that colony's help for protection against the Cylons.
Fast-forward to the finale: the Colonials take on the Cylons one last time and, despite the fact that we never see it happen on-screen, all of the bad-guy Cylons are destroyed. The Colonials win. They whooped some ass. And then, for some mysterious reason, they decide to populate the primitive Earth and fly all of their ships into the sun.
Basically, they have a new home, but no protection against the Cylons. And, let's face it, space is huge... there are undoubtedly more Cylons out there still looking for the Colonials. But, whatever.
So why is all this ultimately pointless? Well, think about it. The Colonials won. The illogical writers of the series want us to believe that all the bad Cylons are gone, leaving the Colonials to do whatever the Hell they want.
Put it this way: they could've went home. They could've went back to Kobol, which is supposedly their ancestral home. They could've gone anywhere in the galaxy and settled anywhere they wanted to.
Sure, they're a bit low on population, but they could've bred with the local Earthlings (the product of an extremely unlikely perfect parallel evolution), rebuilt their military strength, and gone back to the 12 Colonies later.
But, they can't. They're stuck. They went all that way to disappear into history. AND THEY COULD'VE WENT HOME. The Cylons were defeated. There was nothing left to fear. They no longer needed to find a new home... they had the choice of five different star systems (the 12 Colonies, Kobol, New Caprica, Earth 1, and Earth 2). They no longer needed protection against the Cylons. The journey was done, over, kaput.
And the messed up part is: they never even had to leave their home system in order to wind up with the same result.
Conclusion: ultimately pointless.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Organized Musings
Introduction
I have decided to organize my random musings. So there.
Television
NBC moving giving Leno their M-F 10 PM slot is going to be A) the end of NBC, or B) the end of network television. Option A will happen if the move is unsuccessful, forcing NBC to revert to "traditional" 10 PM shows, putting the network in a "catch up" position with ABC, CBS, and Fox. Option B will happen if the move is successful, and the rest of the Big Four nets follow suit, forcing audiences to cable channels in order to find quality scripted television.
Prison Break is going bye-bye, which is no surprise. Fox could've turned that show into something great, but instead decided to make it a reverse 24 of sorts, rather than the Kung Fu, The Fugitive, and The A-Team homage that it should've been.
Related to the NBC-Leno thing: Life and (likely) Chuck are screwed.
Battlestar Galactica is beginning its final run. Here's hoping that the nerd-critics finally realize what crap the show's been since part-way through its second season.
Sports
LaDanian Tomlinson is crying about taking a smaller role in the offense. Dude, I thought you were about "being classy." Support your team, take the role, extend your career, and shut the fuck up. All that stated, the mere fact that the Chargers are considering dumping him is ludicrous. That's the face of your team, you idiots.
The Padres allowed Trevor Hoffman to go to the Brewers. That was the face of your team, you idiots.
Speaking of the Brewers, will somebody PLEASE put them back in the American League? And get rid of interleague play while you're at it.
Politics
Obama's taking over soon. Meet the new boss, not much different than the old boss. Hah! Seriously, though, he's no fool... change will come slowly, yet steadily, but this overnight shit just ain't going to happen.
Supposedly the government has identified Mexico (along with Pakistan) as the state most likely to collapse within the next decade or so. I say we annex.
Music
Listen to Fascinoma (she's awesome).
U2's new album comes out shortly... here's hoping it's a great one.
Hollywood
Despite numbers showing otherwise, Hollywood is running around pretending it's in some sort of financial crisis, which is putting it in a financial crisis. How fucking stupid is that?
SAG is not going to strike. If it does, we will definitely see the ascension of AFTRA as the power actor's union in Hollywood. I'm going to assume that even SAG isn't dumb enough to let that happen, but nothing will surprise me.
Heath Ledger does not deserve an Academy Award. Yeah, it sucks he's dead, and I was certainly a fan, but his Joker (while excellent... outstandingly excellent) does not deserve an Academy Award.
Animals
One of my dogs has figured out how to circumvent an electric fence. I am very, very afraid.
So, the Bush Administration lifted some protections from certain groups of Grey Wolves. Almost immediately, Idaho and Montana started organizing wolf hunts. Does that seem ridiculous to anyone else?
MySpace
I'm glad to see that MySpace has finally fixed the blog clock. Seriously, why was that a problem in the first place?
Conclusion
'Til next time...
I have decided to organize my random musings. So there.
Television
NBC moving giving Leno their M-F 10 PM slot is going to be A) the end of NBC, or B) the end of network television. Option A will happen if the move is unsuccessful, forcing NBC to revert to "traditional" 10 PM shows, putting the network in a "catch up" position with ABC, CBS, and Fox. Option B will happen if the move is successful, and the rest of the Big Four nets follow suit, forcing audiences to cable channels in order to find quality scripted television.
Prison Break is going bye-bye, which is no surprise. Fox could've turned that show into something great, but instead decided to make it a reverse 24 of sorts, rather than the Kung Fu, The Fugitive, and The A-Team homage that it should've been.
Related to the NBC-Leno thing: Life and (likely) Chuck are screwed.
Battlestar Galactica is beginning its final run. Here's hoping that the nerd-critics finally realize what crap the show's been since part-way through its second season.
Sports
LaDanian Tomlinson is crying about taking a smaller role in the offense. Dude, I thought you were about "being classy." Support your team, take the role, extend your career, and shut the fuck up. All that stated, the mere fact that the Chargers are considering dumping him is ludicrous. That's the face of your team, you idiots.
The Padres allowed Trevor Hoffman to go to the Brewers. That was the face of your team, you idiots.
Speaking of the Brewers, will somebody PLEASE put them back in the American League? And get rid of interleague play while you're at it.
Politics
Obama's taking over soon. Meet the new boss, not much different than the old boss. Hah! Seriously, though, he's no fool... change will come slowly, yet steadily, but this overnight shit just ain't going to happen.
Supposedly the government has identified Mexico (along with Pakistan) as the state most likely to collapse within the next decade or so. I say we annex.
Music
Listen to Fascinoma (she's awesome).
U2's new album comes out shortly... here's hoping it's a great one.
Hollywood
Despite numbers showing otherwise, Hollywood is running around pretending it's in some sort of financial crisis, which is putting it in a financial crisis. How fucking stupid is that?
SAG is not going to strike. If it does, we will definitely see the ascension of AFTRA as the power actor's union in Hollywood. I'm going to assume that even SAG isn't dumb enough to let that happen, but nothing will surprise me.
Heath Ledger does not deserve an Academy Award. Yeah, it sucks he's dead, and I was certainly a fan, but his Joker (while excellent... outstandingly excellent) does not deserve an Academy Award.
Animals
One of my dogs has figured out how to circumvent an electric fence. I am very, very afraid.
So, the Bush Administration lifted some protections from certain groups of Grey Wolves. Almost immediately, Idaho and Montana started organizing wolf hunts. Does that seem ridiculous to anyone else?
MySpace
I'm glad to see that MySpace has finally fixed the blog clock. Seriously, why was that a problem in the first place?
Conclusion
'Til next time...
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Irreverent Musings
Syllogism for the day: People suck. You are people. Therefore, you suck.
Instead of cutting its losses, NBC is going to "reboot" the "reimagined" Knight Rider. The cast is too big, they says. The plots are too big, they says. I says they should've used a fucking Firebird.
Monday night's episode of Heroes completely destroyed the show. As in: made every episode that came before it utterly pointless. So, Noah Bennet knew Syler's identity the entire time, eh? So, Claire's real mother was almost an agent and was present at the train wreck, eh? So, Nathan's powers emerged before the eclipse, eh? So, Syler and Elle were an "item," eh? So... ah, fuck it.
The World Series suffered its lowest television ratings ever... by more than 1.5 points. Quick solution: shorten the season and expand the fucking playoffs.
The NFL is considering an 18-game season. Bad idea. The relatively short season is why people enjoy it so much... it gives them something to wait for during the off-season. Take notes, MLB and NHL.
Advice for comic book publishers: origin stories for established mysterious characters are bad ideas. Yes, this is also advice for the writers of Heroes.
Latest crappy movie I tried to watch, but was unable to finish: Shoot 'Em Up. Surprising, too, since it starred Monica Bellucci, and until I tried to watch that piece of shit movie, I could've sworn I'd watch paint dry while strangers walked by and pissed on me, just so I could look at Monica Bellucci. I don't know if I should be relieved or distressed to know that this is not the case.
Joss Whedon is an overrated hack. Bite me. No pun intended.
Battlestar Galactica has devolved into self-congratulatory garbage. Just some words for the writers: you're not that good; your show isn't that good. If all the hype were true, you'd be on a real channel, and not one known for keeping the Stargate television franchise around, oh, 11-years too long. Funny... BSG isn't even going to make it to a fifth season. Yeah, you guys fucking rock, all right.
Fox, do us all a favor and just import the original Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares. Your version is utter trash, and has absolutely nothing to do with the restaurant industry, save for the fact that it's shot in restaurants. If I wanted to see garbage shot in a restaurant, I'll watch Michael shoot Sollozzo and McCluskey.
Please, Warner Brothers, cancel the Justice League movie and never speak a word about it again.
I will never watch NatGeo as long as it's called NatGeo. Nor will I drink SunnyD as long as it's called SunnyD. Fire those marketers... seriously.
It's time for bed.
Instead of cutting its losses, NBC is going to "reboot" the "reimagined" Knight Rider. The cast is too big, they says. The plots are too big, they says. I says they should've used a fucking Firebird.
Monday night's episode of Heroes completely destroyed the show. As in: made every episode that came before it utterly pointless. So, Noah Bennet knew Syler's identity the entire time, eh? So, Claire's real mother was almost an agent and was present at the train wreck, eh? So, Nathan's powers emerged before the eclipse, eh? So, Syler and Elle were an "item," eh? So... ah, fuck it.
The World Series suffered its lowest television ratings ever... by more than 1.5 points. Quick solution: shorten the season and expand the fucking playoffs.
The NFL is considering an 18-game season. Bad idea. The relatively short season is why people enjoy it so much... it gives them something to wait for during the off-season. Take notes, MLB and NHL.
Advice for comic book publishers: origin stories for established mysterious characters are bad ideas. Yes, this is also advice for the writers of Heroes.
Latest crappy movie I tried to watch, but was unable to finish: Shoot 'Em Up. Surprising, too, since it starred Monica Bellucci, and until I tried to watch that piece of shit movie, I could've sworn I'd watch paint dry while strangers walked by and pissed on me, just so I could look at Monica Bellucci. I don't know if I should be relieved or distressed to know that this is not the case.
Joss Whedon is an overrated hack. Bite me. No pun intended.
Battlestar Galactica has devolved into self-congratulatory garbage. Just some words for the writers: you're not that good; your show isn't that good. If all the hype were true, you'd be on a real channel, and not one known for keeping the Stargate television franchise around, oh, 11-years too long. Funny... BSG isn't even going to make it to a fifth season. Yeah, you guys fucking rock, all right.
Fox, do us all a favor and just import the original Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares. Your version is utter trash, and has absolutely nothing to do with the restaurant industry, save for the fact that it's shot in restaurants. If I wanted to see garbage shot in a restaurant, I'll watch Michael shoot Sollozzo and McCluskey.
Please, Warner Brothers, cancel the Justice League movie and never speak a word about it again.
I will never watch NatGeo as long as it's called NatGeo. Nor will I drink SunnyD as long as it's called SunnyD. Fire those marketers... seriously.
It's time for bed.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Technology: the "Real" Battlestar Galactica
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
WASHINGTON, DC (June 30, 2008) - The United States Navy and the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) today announced the results of a study in the viability of a proposed type of warship dubbed the Fleet Advanced Response Control Escort (FARCE), designed to replace several existing types and classes of warship. On Thursday, a congressional subcommittee approved the findings and the Navy is expected to open bidding for design proposals.
"One of the goals of the Navy of the 21st Century is to consolidate the number of hull designs it currently uses into three or four basic platforms with which to build multiple-mission ships upon," said Alan Rockwell, senior director of the Naval Vehicle Design Office (NVDO) at DARPA. "But we've encountered resistance both within the active and retired naval community. That's one of the reasons we conducted the study with little fanfare."
The proposed warship itself is reportedly designed to not only assume the role of battleship, a role the Navy currently does not fill, but also the role of aircraft carrier and amphibious assault ship. By consolidating these roles onto one hull, the Navy hopes to save millions of dollars in operational and logistical expenses. It would allow the Navy to more quickly retire the older Nimitz-class aircraft carriers, as well as reduce the need for further development of single-role warships such as destroyers and frigates, which the Navy views as becoming obsolete. The US Navy would "lead the maritime defense arena in mission capability and innovation" with this type of ship.
The mission requirements for this new ship seem a daunting undertaking for a single type of vessel, encompassing the infrastructure to act as a traditional warship, an aircraft carrier complete with air wing, and an assault ship complete with embarked Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU). Rockwell asserts that "while the size and scope of the project will certainly place limitations on the bidding process, the mere fact that the United States Navy will put to sea the largest warship, indeed, the largest ship, ever built will be more than enough to convince the American people and our enemies that America means to maintain ocean-going supremacy well into the 22nd Century."
So far, the proposal eliminates the need for the current strike group organization that the Navy currently heavily relies on, and will purportedly allow for the redeployment of most escort warships at Navy bases located along the contiguous United States' coastline. According to Rockwell, "Why send seven ships to do a job that one ship will be able to do?"
The Navy expects forceful opposition to the proposal, both from within its ranks and without, but fully expects the now-public white paper to convince its opponents of the obvious benefits of having such a ship. In order to help educate those reluctant to approve the purchase of the project, the Navy has recruited nautical strategy geniuses Ronald D. Moore and David Eick to conduct seminars on what a great idea putting all of your eggs in one basket is. After all, there's nothing like an ROTC dropout telling you how a military should work. Moore is currently accepting applications for one-eyed, alcoholic XOs who hate their wives and short-sighted, pop-culture philosophizing COs who can't even control their own children to help with the education of the public.
WASHINGTON, DC (June 30, 2008) - The United States Navy and the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) today announced the results of a study in the viability of a proposed type of warship dubbed the Fleet Advanced Response Control Escort (FARCE), designed to replace several existing types and classes of warship. On Thursday, a congressional subcommittee approved the findings and the Navy is expected to open bidding for design proposals.
"One of the goals of the Navy of the 21st Century is to consolidate the number of hull designs it currently uses into three or four basic platforms with which to build multiple-mission ships upon," said Alan Rockwell, senior director of the Naval Vehicle Design Office (NVDO) at DARPA. "But we've encountered resistance both within the active and retired naval community. That's one of the reasons we conducted the study with little fanfare."
The proposed warship itself is reportedly designed to not only assume the role of battleship, a role the Navy currently does not fill, but also the role of aircraft carrier and amphibious assault ship. By consolidating these roles onto one hull, the Navy hopes to save millions of dollars in operational and logistical expenses. It would allow the Navy to more quickly retire the older Nimitz-class aircraft carriers, as well as reduce the need for further development of single-role warships such as destroyers and frigates, which the Navy views as becoming obsolete. The US Navy would "lead the maritime defense arena in mission capability and innovation" with this type of ship.
The mission requirements for this new ship seem a daunting undertaking for a single type of vessel, encompassing the infrastructure to act as a traditional warship, an aircraft carrier complete with air wing, and an assault ship complete with embarked Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU). Rockwell asserts that "while the size and scope of the project will certainly place limitations on the bidding process, the mere fact that the United States Navy will put to sea the largest warship, indeed, the largest ship, ever built will be more than enough to convince the American people and our enemies that America means to maintain ocean-going supremacy well into the 22nd Century."
So far, the proposal eliminates the need for the current strike group organization that the Navy currently heavily relies on, and will purportedly allow for the redeployment of most escort warships at Navy bases located along the contiguous United States' coastline. According to Rockwell, "Why send seven ships to do a job that one ship will be able to do?"
The Navy expects forceful opposition to the proposal, both from within its ranks and without, but fully expects the now-public white paper to convince its opponents of the obvious benefits of having such a ship. In order to help educate those reluctant to approve the purchase of the project, the Navy has recruited nautical strategy geniuses Ronald D. Moore and David Eick to conduct seminars on what a great idea putting all of your eggs in one basket is. After all, there's nothing like an ROTC dropout telling you how a military should work. Moore is currently accepting applications for one-eyed, alcoholic XOs who hate their wives and short-sighted, pop-culture philosophizing COs who can't even control their own children to help with the education of the public.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Questions I've Been Asked
I'm bored and can't sleep, so I've decided to write about several questions that have been asked of me lately. Why? Well, I figure if I write the answers down, nobody will ask me those questions again. Hey, I hate repeating myself. I mean, I really hate repeating myself. I just really, really don't like repeating myself.
Q1. Why aren't you writing about the Presidential candidates?
A1. Because I don't really care at this point in time. Ron Paul and Mike Gravel are ultra-wingers who, while they belong in national politics and are needed, don't need to be in the White House. Romney appears to be a fraud, and is hiding something, as is Obama. Speaking of, Obama and Clinton are merely riding their "making history" trains, to the point of being irritating. Huckabee is, well, Huckabee. McCain is playing both sides of the train tracks. And Edwards and Giulani are now officially out (thank the maker). And that's how I feel about that.
Q2. Why aren't you in Los Angeles?
A2. Several reasons: 1) financial trouble stemming from a few years back finally caught up to me, 2) legal trouble stemming from a couple of years back made staying on the West Coast a precipitous proposition, 3) military trouble from a few years back is haunting me. That's it in a nutshell.
Q3. Why aren't you actively pursuing your writing career?
A3. My computer sucks... seriously... to the point of really pissing me off, causing me to purposefully limit my computer time (and, hence, my writing time). And outside stressors, while nowhere near debilitating, keep my mind on those stressors.
Q4. Why don't you like Philip Rivers?
A4. I don't dislike him, I'm just not entirely convinced yet. He's no Drew Brees, and he let Eli Manning beat him to a Super Bowl.
Q5. Why don't you take one of those government jobs you qualify for?
A5. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Been there, done that, won't do it again until I have more influence.
Q6. Why aren't you finishing up grad school?
A6. Because I'm picky (sorry, ECU), my computer sucks, and I have other things on my mind.
Q7. What do you think of the title of the new James Bond movie?
A7. I like it, if only because it's an Ian Fleming title. Although I can see how aesthetically "non-movie-Bond" it is. At least it's not something really stupid like Attack of the Clones.
Q8. Why don't you like the newer Star Wars movies?
A8. Bad acting, bad directing, bad story, over-the-top effects, and a general disregard for established story continuity a bad movie does make.
Q9. Why are you so hard on Battlestar Galactica?
A9. Because it started out so great, then turned to shit. I usually don't make across-the-board statements, but anyone who actually liked Season 3 is an idiot.
Q10. Why do you think we should restructure the military?
A10. Because we're wasting money. Money that could be used in making our military bigger.
Q11. Since you want to join the WGA, why aren't you supporting them in the current strike?
A11. I am now, at least more than I was. But prior to their dropping of some of their demands, they were being a bunch of whiny morons.
Q12. Why aren't you more specific in some of your writings?
A12. Because I'm lazy, and specificity by nature requires a lot of repetition... and I hate repeating myself. Repeating myself pisses me off, and only makes me hate repeating myself even more.
Q1. Why aren't you writing about the Presidential candidates?
A1. Because I don't really care at this point in time. Ron Paul and Mike Gravel are ultra-wingers who, while they belong in national politics and are needed, don't need to be in the White House. Romney appears to be a fraud, and is hiding something, as is Obama. Speaking of, Obama and Clinton are merely riding their "making history" trains, to the point of being irritating. Huckabee is, well, Huckabee. McCain is playing both sides of the train tracks. And Edwards and Giulani are now officially out (thank the maker). And that's how I feel about that.
Q2. Why aren't you in Los Angeles?
A2. Several reasons: 1) financial trouble stemming from a few years back finally caught up to me, 2) legal trouble stemming from a couple of years back made staying on the West Coast a precipitous proposition, 3) military trouble from a few years back is haunting me. That's it in a nutshell.
Q3. Why aren't you actively pursuing your writing career?
A3. My computer sucks... seriously... to the point of really pissing me off, causing me to purposefully limit my computer time (and, hence, my writing time). And outside stressors, while nowhere near debilitating, keep my mind on those stressors.
Q4. Why don't you like Philip Rivers?
A4. I don't dislike him, I'm just not entirely convinced yet. He's no Drew Brees, and he let Eli Manning beat him to a Super Bowl.
Q5. Why don't you take one of those government jobs you qualify for?
A5. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Been there, done that, won't do it again until I have more influence.
Q6. Why aren't you finishing up grad school?
A6. Because I'm picky (sorry, ECU), my computer sucks, and I have other things on my mind.
Q7. What do you think of the title of the new James Bond movie?
A7. I like it, if only because it's an Ian Fleming title. Although I can see how aesthetically "non-movie-Bond" it is. At least it's not something really stupid like Attack of the Clones.
Q8. Why don't you like the newer Star Wars movies?
A8. Bad acting, bad directing, bad story, over-the-top effects, and a general disregard for established story continuity a bad movie does make.
Q9. Why are you so hard on Battlestar Galactica?
A9. Because it started out so great, then turned to shit. I usually don't make across-the-board statements, but anyone who actually liked Season 3 is an idiot.
Q10. Why do you think we should restructure the military?
A10. Because we're wasting money. Money that could be used in making our military bigger.
Q11. Since you want to join the WGA, why aren't you supporting them in the current strike?
A11. I am now, at least more than I was. But prior to their dropping of some of their demands, they were being a bunch of whiny morons.
Q12. Why aren't you more specific in some of your writings?
A12. Because I'm lazy, and specificity by nature requires a lot of repetition... and I hate repeating myself. Repeating myself pisses me off, and only makes me hate repeating myself even more.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Battlestar Galactica: From Great to Lazy
In 2003, the beloved cult classic television series, Battlestar Galactica, returned to the small screen in a miniseries event that was, to say the least, a spectacular example of good, dramatic, science fiction. In almost every way imaginable (save for maybe "family values") the new Battlestar Galactica surpassed the original, and fans eagerly awaiting its inception as a weekly series. Season One continued the trend started by the miniseries, and is arguably the best stand-alone season of any science fiction show in the history of television. It was well-written, taut, and full of real-life problems in a fictional world. Season Two started to waver a bit, but for the most part maintained at least the tone of the first season.
It was, without doubt, one of the hardest-working shows with one of the hardest-working writing staffs at the time.
And then, at the end of Season Two, the unthinkable happened: the incongruous "One Year Later."
An obvious gimmick for a writing staff who seemed to be getting tired of the concept. Tired? How the Hell was this possible? The writers had barely even scratched the surface of the depth the show's premise offered. And yet, there it was... in our face, slapping as hard as it could. For those familiar with the much-maligned term "jumped the shark," this is when our beloved show jumped the battlestar.
One year later? One year of character development, unfinished storylines, plot progressions, and a clear change in direction of the show. Some fans (mostly fanboys and fangirls) loved it. Of course they would... these are the same people who loved the new Star Wars trilogy. Their standards are so low, they're the reason the Stargate shows lasted as long as they did.
Oh, Season Three started with a bang, I'll admit, but one full of inconsistencies, larger plot-holes, and a definite change in tone from the "realistic, naturalistic" science fiction promised by the show creators to an unrealistic, clearly contrived show that most casual fans find hard to care about. Don't believe me? Check the steady decline in ratings since the first season.
Sure, David Eick, one of the two show-runners, wanted to try out his horrible and horrifying remake of Bionic Woman, and Ronald Moore, the other show-runner and one of the only reasons the Star Trek franchise maintained quality for as long as it did, had his eye on silver screen projects. But this is my point: it was like they wanted to quit Battlestar Galactica in order to pursue their ultimate goal of being television and film powerhouses. I can't fault them for that, but I can fault them for not handing over the reigns of the once uber-great Battlestar Galactica to other writer-producers to keep the show going for more than four seasons. After all, that was how Ronald Moore got his start, by being handed the reigns of someone else's pet project. Perhaps his vanity got in the way of him doing the same for someone else.
No, not perhaps. That's exactly what happened.
Where's my proof? Well, just take a look at the silly "Final Five" Cylon concept. Initially, we were led to believe that there were 12 "human" Cylons, infiltrated in the RTF and causing all sorts of problems. Eventually, only 7 of those Cylons were revealed, leaving us wondering who the last 5 were. But, instead of drawing it out, keeping us guessing until the moment the RTF finds Earth, the writers decided to ret-con their own "history" and make the "Final Five" a group of prophetic not-quite-Cylon beings who seem to be involved in the overall machinations of the universe. Four of those Cylons were revealed to be human characters we've been following for quite some time now... human characters whose histories preclude them from being Cylons, hence, the ret-con. It was, to say the least, one of the cheapest shots taken at an audience since Rosebud was revealed to be a sled. Only Rosebud had a reason behind it... Battlestar Galactica's was simply a case of writers wanting to hurry to a finale.
So, here we are, watching a show that was once about a band of humans doing everything they could to survive in a situation that did not want them to survive, and is now about a band of humans being used as pawns in a prophetic chess-match between players whose identities are still unknown. If I wanted to watch a by-the-number piece like that, I'd pop Clash of the Titans in my DVD player.
Deus ex Machina kills many a film in its abrupt and lazy propensity to end a story. And this is what it's doing to Battlestar Galactica.
Of course, there's still a chance that the fourth and final season of the show could turn out to be the best conclusion to a science fiction show ever, but given the decline in quality evident since Season 2, and the rise in laziness evident since Season 3, what are the odds of that?
I'm guessing slim-to-none.
Here's hoping that some up-and-coming television writers are already preparing the next incarnation of Battlestar Galactica, because this one is leaving too many bad tastes in my mouth.
It was, without doubt, one of the hardest-working shows with one of the hardest-working writing staffs at the time.
And then, at the end of Season Two, the unthinkable happened: the incongruous "One Year Later."
An obvious gimmick for a writing staff who seemed to be getting tired of the concept. Tired? How the Hell was this possible? The writers had barely even scratched the surface of the depth the show's premise offered. And yet, there it was... in our face, slapping as hard as it could. For those familiar with the much-maligned term "jumped the shark," this is when our beloved show jumped the battlestar.
One year later? One year of character development, unfinished storylines, plot progressions, and a clear change in direction of the show. Some fans (mostly fanboys and fangirls) loved it. Of course they would... these are the same people who loved the new Star Wars trilogy. Their standards are so low, they're the reason the Stargate shows lasted as long as they did.
Oh, Season Three started with a bang, I'll admit, but one full of inconsistencies, larger plot-holes, and a definite change in tone from the "realistic, naturalistic" science fiction promised by the show creators to an unrealistic, clearly contrived show that most casual fans find hard to care about. Don't believe me? Check the steady decline in ratings since the first season.
Sure, David Eick, one of the two show-runners, wanted to try out his horrible and horrifying remake of Bionic Woman, and Ronald Moore, the other show-runner and one of the only reasons the Star Trek franchise maintained quality for as long as it did, had his eye on silver screen projects. But this is my point: it was like they wanted to quit Battlestar Galactica in order to pursue their ultimate goal of being television and film powerhouses. I can't fault them for that, but I can fault them for not handing over the reigns of the once uber-great Battlestar Galactica to other writer-producers to keep the show going for more than four seasons. After all, that was how Ronald Moore got his start, by being handed the reigns of someone else's pet project. Perhaps his vanity got in the way of him doing the same for someone else.
No, not perhaps. That's exactly what happened.
Where's my proof? Well, just take a look at the silly "Final Five" Cylon concept. Initially, we were led to believe that there were 12 "human" Cylons, infiltrated in the RTF and causing all sorts of problems. Eventually, only 7 of those Cylons were revealed, leaving us wondering who the last 5 were. But, instead of drawing it out, keeping us guessing until the moment the RTF finds Earth, the writers decided to ret-con their own "history" and make the "Final Five" a group of prophetic not-quite-Cylon beings who seem to be involved in the overall machinations of the universe. Four of those Cylons were revealed to be human characters we've been following for quite some time now... human characters whose histories preclude them from being Cylons, hence, the ret-con. It was, to say the least, one of the cheapest shots taken at an audience since Rosebud was revealed to be a sled. Only Rosebud had a reason behind it... Battlestar Galactica's was simply a case of writers wanting to hurry to a finale.
So, here we are, watching a show that was once about a band of humans doing everything they could to survive in a situation that did not want them to survive, and is now about a band of humans being used as pawns in a prophetic chess-match between players whose identities are still unknown. If I wanted to watch a by-the-number piece like that, I'd pop Clash of the Titans in my DVD player.
Deus ex Machina kills many a film in its abrupt and lazy propensity to end a story. And this is what it's doing to Battlestar Galactica.
Of course, there's still a chance that the fourth and final season of the show could turn out to be the best conclusion to a science fiction show ever, but given the decline in quality evident since Season 2, and the rise in laziness evident since Season 3, what are the odds of that?
I'm guessing slim-to-none.
Here's hoping that some up-and-coming television writers are already preparing the next incarnation of Battlestar Galactica, because this one is leaving too many bad tastes in my mouth.
Monday, December 3, 2007
The Fall 2007 Television Season: an Update
Now that we're moving into the mid-season breaks, it's easier to call which shows have it, and which ones don't.
Obviously, fan favorites such as Lost and 24 have yet to return, so I won't be offering any conjecture on those.
Well, I'm tired, so let's just run through this, shall we?
Prison Break - still well-acted and fairly well-written, it's becoming painfully obvious that the gimmick is up. I'll keep watching, though, if only to see where it goes. New viewers might get a kick of it, and loyal fanboys (and girls) will obviously remain loyal, but there's not much here for the casual viewer to latch onto.
Heroes - despite a slow, agonizing start to its second season, the show has finally picked back up and is back to its first season quality.
Bionic Woman - is officially banned from my television.
Moonlight - I gave up on this a while ago, but happened to catch the last episode. It appears that the plot has evolved into something engaging. Unfortunately, poor production values and crap acting are still hampering this great concept. Jury's still out on whether or not I jump back into this one.
House - still the best character on television, and though I'm sad to see the "who gets hired?" subplot go, I'm looking forward to the show's Spring return.
The Unit - finding its way, though given that it's in its third season, it should have done that about 30 episodes ago. Military aficionados will enjoy this, even though military inaccuracies still frequent the series far too often.
Life - best new show on television. Period.
Journeyman - started off good (if a little slow), and keeps getting better and better. It'll be a shame if continued poor ratings forces NBC to ax this one.
K-Ville - another show still finding its way. It's a competent series, but is missing that something extra to make it truly a good one. I doubt it'll last long enough, but it'd be nice if the show finds a direction to go in. As it stands now, this is a show that belongs in the 1980s.
Kitchen Nightmares - yes, it's a reality show, but it's a damned good one. The only slight against it is that it pays less attention to the actual restaurant industry, and more attention to the "drama" inherent to the people working in a failing restaurant. The British version managed to do both, so why can't the American version follow suit?
Battlestar Galactica: Razor - cheesy. Bad characterization, bad plot progression, decent writing. As far as being the actual Battlestar Galactica Season 4 setup? Bad, bad idea.
Pushing Daisies - odd, quirky, and totally engaging in a camp kind of way. In this case, however, camp is a good thing. A good example of a television series simply having fun with itself, and not at the expense of its viewers.
Anyway, the SciFi remake of The Wizard of Oz, Tin Man, is on my DVR. More on that to follow.
Obviously, fan favorites such as Lost and 24 have yet to return, so I won't be offering any conjecture on those.
Well, I'm tired, so let's just run through this, shall we?
Prison Break - still well-acted and fairly well-written, it's becoming painfully obvious that the gimmick is up. I'll keep watching, though, if only to see where it goes. New viewers might get a kick of it, and loyal fanboys (and girls) will obviously remain loyal, but there's not much here for the casual viewer to latch onto.
Heroes - despite a slow, agonizing start to its second season, the show has finally picked back up and is back to its first season quality.
Bionic Woman - is officially banned from my television.
Moonlight - I gave up on this a while ago, but happened to catch the last episode. It appears that the plot has evolved into something engaging. Unfortunately, poor production values and crap acting are still hampering this great concept. Jury's still out on whether or not I jump back into this one.
House - still the best character on television, and though I'm sad to see the "who gets hired?" subplot go, I'm looking forward to the show's Spring return.
The Unit - finding its way, though given that it's in its third season, it should have done that about 30 episodes ago. Military aficionados will enjoy this, even though military inaccuracies still frequent the series far too often.
Life - best new show on television. Period.
Journeyman - started off good (if a little slow), and keeps getting better and better. It'll be a shame if continued poor ratings forces NBC to ax this one.
K-Ville - another show still finding its way. It's a competent series, but is missing that something extra to make it truly a good one. I doubt it'll last long enough, but it'd be nice if the show finds a direction to go in. As it stands now, this is a show that belongs in the 1980s.
Kitchen Nightmares - yes, it's a reality show, but it's a damned good one. The only slight against it is that it pays less attention to the actual restaurant industry, and more attention to the "drama" inherent to the people working in a failing restaurant. The British version managed to do both, so why can't the American version follow suit?
Battlestar Galactica: Razor - cheesy. Bad characterization, bad plot progression, decent writing. As far as being the actual Battlestar Galactica Season 4 setup? Bad, bad idea.
Pushing Daisies - odd, quirky, and totally engaging in a camp kind of way. In this case, however, camp is a good thing. A good example of a television series simply having fun with itself, and not at the expense of its viewers.
Anyway, the SciFi remake of The Wizard of Oz, Tin Man, is on my DVR. More on that to follow.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
The Fall 2007 Television Season: a Quick Review
It's here, the new season, and there are some nice surprises lurking about the network primetime slots. Unfortunately, some of those surprises are bad ones.
The stalwarts are back, of course. And those who read this blog know I'm most likely referring to (and I am) shows like Prison Break, House, and Heroes (even though I'm not as impressed with Heroes as many of you are).
And then there's the newbies. Admittedly, I tend to stay away from ABC and CBS, with the exception of Lost and The Unit (a recent addition to my DVR list... it's gotten much, much better since the first season), but I decided to give a couple of new shows a try.
The ABC show I gave a whirl was Cavemen. I couldn't help it. My curiosity overcame my better judgement, and combined with the fact that I'm a fan of those GEICO commercials, I gave it a look... for all of four minutes. Stay the Hell away from this one, people. I'm not joking.
On CBS I decided to look into Moonlight. Good concept, similar to the classic (and ABC's piss-poor remake) Nightstalker, but pretty bad execution. The lead actor has a certain presence about him, but the rest of the cast is horrible. That's H.O.R.R.I.B.L.E. I'll give this one another go this weekend, but if there's no improvement past the pilot, it's off the "To Do" list.
The odd surprise this season is NBC. Now, I won't go into too much detail, but so far, I've added the near-great new shows Life and Journeyman to the list. Both are outstanding. I'm also watching Chuck, and while there's a certain charm to it, I'm still not entirely convinced. Still, I dig Adam Baldwin, so will give this another couple of weeks. Disappointing is the heavily-hyped Bionic Woman remake, helmed (and acted) by some of the Battlestar Galactica types, the show is an utter mess. Between the pilot and the second show there were already plot holes and sudden "characterization" changes. Expected from the BSG crew, the only thing Bionic Woman is convincing me of is that Katee Sackhoff (a decent actress) is utterly incapable of pulling off the "tough chick" role.
On Fox, the only thing I've watched is K-Ville, which despite a dull pilot, improves a little bit each week. At the rate it's going, it'll be a great show by the end of the season, or cancelled (which I'm betting on).
Anyway, I'm still pissed NBC pulled The Black Donnellys earlier this year, so I'm off to find the DVDs.
Vote Eastwood.
The stalwarts are back, of course. And those who read this blog know I'm most likely referring to (and I am) shows like Prison Break, House, and Heroes (even though I'm not as impressed with Heroes as many of you are).
And then there's the newbies. Admittedly, I tend to stay away from ABC and CBS, with the exception of Lost and The Unit (a recent addition to my DVR list... it's gotten much, much better since the first season), but I decided to give a couple of new shows a try.
The ABC show I gave a whirl was Cavemen. I couldn't help it. My curiosity overcame my better judgement, and combined with the fact that I'm a fan of those GEICO commercials, I gave it a look... for all of four minutes. Stay the Hell away from this one, people. I'm not joking.
On CBS I decided to look into Moonlight. Good concept, similar to the classic (and ABC's piss-poor remake) Nightstalker, but pretty bad execution. The lead actor has a certain presence about him, but the rest of the cast is horrible. That's H.O.R.R.I.B.L.E. I'll give this one another go this weekend, but if there's no improvement past the pilot, it's off the "To Do" list.
The odd surprise this season is NBC. Now, I won't go into too much detail, but so far, I've added the near-great new shows Life and Journeyman to the list. Both are outstanding. I'm also watching Chuck, and while there's a certain charm to it, I'm still not entirely convinced. Still, I dig Adam Baldwin, so will give this another couple of weeks. Disappointing is the heavily-hyped Bionic Woman remake, helmed (and acted) by some of the Battlestar Galactica types, the show is an utter mess. Between the pilot and the second show there were already plot holes and sudden "characterization" changes. Expected from the BSG crew, the only thing Bionic Woman is convincing me of is that Katee Sackhoff (a decent actress) is utterly incapable of pulling off the "tough chick" role.
On Fox, the only thing I've watched is K-Ville, which despite a dull pilot, improves a little bit each week. At the rate it's going, it'll be a great show by the end of the season, or cancelled (which I'm betting on).
Anyway, I'm still pissed NBC pulled The Black Donnellys earlier this year, so I'm off to find the DVDs.
Vote Eastwood.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
And the Winds are Blowing... ?
Okay, so here I am in Wilmington. No job, no dogs (well, one... but I should have three), no social life, no nothing. Seriously, I literally have nothing material, save for this laptop and an old Army cot. Not that I mind, of course... I'm a little attracted to the idea of being able to leave at a moment's notice.
Anyway, so here I am in Wilmington. Coming to Wilmington was a bit of a stretch. I knew it was an overrated film town to begin with, but I had my reasons for coming, and most of them have or are coming to fruition. All that said, I have once again discovered my love for being on the go.
So, here I am in Wilmington, wondering where the Hell I'm going to go next. I have several options: return West, either back to Los Angeles or to Las Vegas; go to Texas and try to latch onto the next season of Prison Break; go to Vancouver and try to latch onto the next season of Battlestar Galactica (difficult, as Canadian film regulations make it hard for non-Canadian's to get below-the-line work); rejoin the active Army and go to Iraq or Afghanistan with my friends; sign up for Halliburton (gasp) or KBR and get overpaid to go to Iraq or Afghanistan; go to Japan and work with an old friend in the Japanese film industry, or just drive until I get sick of driving and stop somewhere random (I particularly like this choice... don't know why).
But, here I am in Wilmington. Wondering and waiting as the itch to wander grows slowly but surely. Should I stay? Or should I go?
Hmm... guess I'll keep wondering and waiting.
Anyway, so here I am in Wilmington. Coming to Wilmington was a bit of a stretch. I knew it was an overrated film town to begin with, but I had my reasons for coming, and most of them have or are coming to fruition. All that said, I have once again discovered my love for being on the go.
So, here I am in Wilmington, wondering where the Hell I'm going to go next. I have several options: return West, either back to Los Angeles or to Las Vegas; go to Texas and try to latch onto the next season of Prison Break; go to Vancouver and try to latch onto the next season of Battlestar Galactica (difficult, as Canadian film regulations make it hard for non-Canadian's to get below-the-line work); rejoin the active Army and go to Iraq or Afghanistan with my friends; sign up for Halliburton (gasp) or KBR and get overpaid to go to Iraq or Afghanistan; go to Japan and work with an old friend in the Japanese film industry, or just drive until I get sick of driving and stop somewhere random (I particularly like this choice... don't know why).
But, here I am in Wilmington. Wondering and waiting as the itch to wander grows slowly but surely. Should I stay? Or should I go?
Hmm... guess I'll keep wondering and waiting.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Random Musings Amid Mental Chaos
Good cause or not, last night's American Idol special, "Idol Gives Back," had to have been the most bloated two hours of television since, well, the last two-hour episode of American Idol.
Scientists believe they found a planet similar to Earth, located in the Libra constellation. Religious fundamentalists believe that those scientists pointed their telescopes back at Earth, in a ruse worthy of the "moonscape in a garage" ploy apparently used to fake the moon landings.
The Army is attempting to transform itself in order to better facilitate an expeditionary role. Unfortunately, the other three services (especially the Air Force) are severely limiting the Army in doing so, to point of actually hobbling the Army. More to come on this, I assure you.
I'm once again at a crossroads: California, or Carolina? Both have pros, both have cons. But I'm strangely attracted to a short-term Carolina trip for some obvious reason (obvious only to those who know, however).
The season three finale of Battlestar Galactica continues to awe and bewilder fans and critics alike, and it was aired a month ago. Outdoing the horrific writing of the season two finale wasn't easy, but it damn sure happened.
Jake Peavy, resident San Diego Padres ace, struck out nine in a row (one short of the record) in a surprising loss to the Diamondbacks. Regardless, the Padres are still 12-9, and in good shape to defend their NL West title. That being said, if those bastards don't win a World Series soon, I'm going to be pissed.
And that being said, if the Chargers don't win a Super Bowl (or three) soon, I'm going to be pissed.
Floyd Landis is still fighting his 7,283 positive tests for synthetic testosterone in his Tour de France win last year. Give it up, dude... take the hit, admit that you embarrassed yourself and your country, and disappear already.
A friend of mine is donating one of his kidneys to his friend's 17 year-old daughter. He claims he's just impulsive, but I stand by my claim that he's a better man than most men I know, including myself.
Arnold Schwarzenegger is threatening to sue the Federal Environmental Protection Agency unless they allow him to enforce cleaner air acts. Say what you will about the Governator, but I think he's pretty serious about saving Planet Earth (which is a great television series on Discovery Channel, by the way). No, I don't think we should change the Constitution to allow him to run for President, but I have to say that he's doing a decent job with California.
As many of you know, Nevada moved up its primaries in order to be one of the first states to vote in the election year. This was done in order to make Nevada more of a "force" in national politics. Um, you have five electoral votes (out of a possible minimum of four)... I don't think anyone really gives a shit.
The brother of former Arizona Cardinal safety and Army Ranger Pat Tillman is claiming that the Army covered up the fratricide in order to avoid another public relations blunder. Oops, that didn't work. Similarly, former "super POW" Jessica Lynch claimed her story was "heroically exaggerated" for the same reason. While Pat Tillman's brother is certainly in the right, I have a fundamental problem with Ms. Lynch. As in, why did she wait until AFTER the book and movie-of-the-week deals to come forward with this? Hmm...
Toyota surpassed General Motors as the global king of automobiles last fiscal quarter. Honestly, I've owned two GM vehicles, and I'm thinking their fall has more to do with a decline in quality than any other reason.
I've recently noticed how science fiction almost always refers to its space-borne infantry as Marines, but almost never refers to its space-borne crew as Sailors. Why is this? Both are direct references to water, so why is one passé and the other not?
I'm done for now.
Scientists believe they found a planet similar to Earth, located in the Libra constellation. Religious fundamentalists believe that those scientists pointed their telescopes back at Earth, in a ruse worthy of the "moonscape in a garage" ploy apparently used to fake the moon landings.
The Army is attempting to transform itself in order to better facilitate an expeditionary role. Unfortunately, the other three services (especially the Air Force) are severely limiting the Army in doing so, to point of actually hobbling the Army. More to come on this, I assure you.
I'm once again at a crossroads: California, or Carolina? Both have pros, both have cons. But I'm strangely attracted to a short-term Carolina trip for some obvious reason (obvious only to those who know, however).
The season three finale of Battlestar Galactica continues to awe and bewilder fans and critics alike, and it was aired a month ago. Outdoing the horrific writing of the season two finale wasn't easy, but it damn sure happened.
Jake Peavy, resident San Diego Padres ace, struck out nine in a row (one short of the record) in a surprising loss to the Diamondbacks. Regardless, the Padres are still 12-9, and in good shape to defend their NL West title. That being said, if those bastards don't win a World Series soon, I'm going to be pissed.
And that being said, if the Chargers don't win a Super Bowl (or three) soon, I'm going to be pissed.
Floyd Landis is still fighting his 7,283 positive tests for synthetic testosterone in his Tour de France win last year. Give it up, dude... take the hit, admit that you embarrassed yourself and your country, and disappear already.
A friend of mine is donating one of his kidneys to his friend's 17 year-old daughter. He claims he's just impulsive, but I stand by my claim that he's a better man than most men I know, including myself.
Arnold Schwarzenegger is threatening to sue the Federal Environmental Protection Agency unless they allow him to enforce cleaner air acts. Say what you will about the Governator, but I think he's pretty serious about saving Planet Earth (which is a great television series on Discovery Channel, by the way). No, I don't think we should change the Constitution to allow him to run for President, but I have to say that he's doing a decent job with California.
As many of you know, Nevada moved up its primaries in order to be one of the first states to vote in the election year. This was done in order to make Nevada more of a "force" in national politics. Um, you have five electoral votes (out of a possible minimum of four)... I don't think anyone really gives a shit.
The brother of former Arizona Cardinal safety and Army Ranger Pat Tillman is claiming that the Army covered up the fratricide in order to avoid another public relations blunder. Oops, that didn't work. Similarly, former "super POW" Jessica Lynch claimed her story was "heroically exaggerated" for the same reason. While Pat Tillman's brother is certainly in the right, I have a fundamental problem with Ms. Lynch. As in, why did she wait until AFTER the book and movie-of-the-week deals to come forward with this? Hmm...
Toyota surpassed General Motors as the global king of automobiles last fiscal quarter. Honestly, I've owned two GM vehicles, and I'm thinking their fall has more to do with a decline in quality than any other reason.
I've recently noticed how science fiction almost always refers to its space-borne infantry as Marines, but almost never refers to its space-borne crew as Sailors. Why is this? Both are direct references to water, so why is one passé and the other not?
I'm done for now.
Monday, April 23, 2007
I'm a Dork
I had a lovely conversation with a lovely person today, and part of it focused on the definition of a dork. You see, this lovely person claimed dorkhood, but I just didn't see it. So we broke down the dorky things that we both did, and I'm pretty sure I won the dork race, so to speak.
Why am I a dork? Well, some of the things that were brought up included:
I like science fiction. Yes, I dig it. Battlestar Galactica, when it isn't ignoring its own continuity and/or breaking the laws of physics, is my favorite show on television. And while I can't claim to have liked Babylon 5 (despite knowing and working with Peter Jurasik), I do like the first two incarnations of Star Trek (but most definitely not Deep Space Nine, Voyager, or Enterprise). Also, like most people my age, I absolutely dig Star Wars... well, old Star Wars.
And did I mention that I can name the 28 original Transformers toys from memory? And the 13 original G.I. Joes. And I like fantasy almost as much as I like science fiction. Especially erotic fantasy... I mean, er... never mind.
Take that, you non-dork people.
Dork clue number two is that I would rather, honestly and seriously, do dinner, a movie, and a walk on the beach for a date than I would bar or club hopping. Of course, that could just be because I'm getting old and lazy, leaving those drunk days behind... but no, I'm using it as a dork excuse.
Ooh, how about this? I'd rather go see ruins, museums, and natural landmarks when I'm in a foreign country rather than experience its nightlife. Yes, I'll go out at night just to say, "I got drunk in ______," but that's not the point. Give me the Parthenon or the Colosseum over a party in Paris any day. Let me see Mona Lisa in person. Take me to The Phantom of the Opera or The Producers on Broadway. Hell, I think I could have a blast at an archaeological site excavating stegosaurus bones.
Other evidence that I'm a dork? I love art and foreign film. I salivate over NFL cheerleaders. I alphabetize my DVD collection. I read... for fun. And, oh, yeah, I have a blog on MySpace.
Anyway, I think I've proven my dorkhood. But just in case, if you can think of anything else that would further my case, please post said evidence in a blog comment.
Have a nice day. Dorks.
Why am I a dork? Well, some of the things that were brought up included:
I like science fiction. Yes, I dig it. Battlestar Galactica, when it isn't ignoring its own continuity and/or breaking the laws of physics, is my favorite show on television. And while I can't claim to have liked Babylon 5 (despite knowing and working with Peter Jurasik), I do like the first two incarnations of Star Trek (but most definitely not Deep Space Nine, Voyager, or Enterprise). Also, like most people my age, I absolutely dig Star Wars... well, old Star Wars.
And did I mention that I can name the 28 original Transformers toys from memory? And the 13 original G.I. Joes. And I like fantasy almost as much as I like science fiction. Especially erotic fantasy... I mean, er... never mind.
Take that, you non-dork people.
Dork clue number two is that I would rather, honestly and seriously, do dinner, a movie, and a walk on the beach for a date than I would bar or club hopping. Of course, that could just be because I'm getting old and lazy, leaving those drunk days behind... but no, I'm using it as a dork excuse.
Ooh, how about this? I'd rather go see ruins, museums, and natural landmarks when I'm in a foreign country rather than experience its nightlife. Yes, I'll go out at night just to say, "I got drunk in ______," but that's not the point. Give me the Parthenon or the Colosseum over a party in Paris any day. Let me see Mona Lisa in person. Take me to The Phantom of the Opera or The Producers on Broadway. Hell, I think I could have a blast at an archaeological site excavating stegosaurus bones.
Other evidence that I'm a dork? I love art and foreign film. I salivate over NFL cheerleaders. I alphabetize my DVD collection. I read... for fun. And, oh, yeah, I have a blog on MySpace.
Anyway, I think I've proven my dorkhood. But just in case, if you can think of anything else that would further my case, please post said evidence in a blog comment.
Have a nice day. Dorks.
Monday, April 16, 2007
The Following People Can Kiss My Ass:
People who feel their phone conversation is more important than the traffic they're in.
Minorities who throw "exclusive" parties, proms, etc., but cry "racist" every time whites do the same.
Raiders fans.
Rich and famous people who feel their fame and fortune is deserved, and not earned. Yes, this is a not-so-subtle jab at certain actors and athletes.
Actors in general.
Dodgers fans.
People who don't like dogs.
Late teenagers in college debating politics like they know something about it.
Members of al-Qaida (al Qai'da; al-Qaeda; al-Queera; al-a-I'm-a-moron).
The writers of Battlestar Galactica, who took a great premise and a great show, and turned it into a inconsistent soap opera not even worth of being called a soap opera.
Religions fundamentalists (any religion).
Extreme leftists.
Extreme rightists.
Al Sharpton, Don Imus, Jesse Jackson, Rush Limbaugh. Bet you never thought you'd see those four in the same sentence in your lifetime...
Bad drivers with those "what would Jesus do?" fish on their cars. Not sure, but I'm guessing he wouldn't be breaking any traffic laws.
Homosexuals who think that everyone who doesn't like gays is a homophobe.
People who don't like gays, including homophobes.
Natalie Portman, for not seeking me out and falling irresistably in love with me.
Helen Mirren, for not seeking me out and falling irresistably in love with me, and for being born 33 years before me.
Jessica Simpson, for playing Daisy Duke when you cleary didn't cut it.
Marge Simpson, for not seeking me out and falling irresistably in love with me, and for not being real.
Wannabe "artists" who think they're already good enough at their art; it's everyone else who doesn't "get it." Oh, yes, you know who I'm talking to.
Those door-to-door college-aged magazine salespeople. Seriously, how long do you think we're going to believe that you're "barely beating your competitors" (ususally guys versus girls), and that you're "this close" to winning a trip to Costa Rica. Word of advice, if you're going to lie about being a communications student from USC, make sure you know the name of the communications program there.
Military "lifers" who think that people who get out to pursue other things are losers.
People who get out of the military to pursue other things who think that military lifers are losers.
The execs at NBC who cancelled The Black Donnellys after hurting its chances by "skipping" an episode. Seriously, how did Jimmy get out of jail?
Anti-war, pro-soldier people. As if that's not oxymoronic at all.
People who quit reading this blog entry before now.
Minorities who throw "exclusive" parties, proms, etc., but cry "racist" every time whites do the same.
Raiders fans.
Rich and famous people who feel their fame and fortune is deserved, and not earned. Yes, this is a not-so-subtle jab at certain actors and athletes.
Actors in general.
Dodgers fans.
People who don't like dogs.
Late teenagers in college debating politics like they know something about it.
Members of al-Qaida (al Qai'da; al-Qaeda; al-Queera; al-a-I'm-a-moron).
The writers of Battlestar Galactica, who took a great premise and a great show, and turned it into a inconsistent soap opera not even worth of being called a soap opera.
Religions fundamentalists (any religion).
Extreme leftists.
Extreme rightists.
Al Sharpton, Don Imus, Jesse Jackson, Rush Limbaugh. Bet you never thought you'd see those four in the same sentence in your lifetime...
Bad drivers with those "what would Jesus do?" fish on their cars. Not sure, but I'm guessing he wouldn't be breaking any traffic laws.
Homosexuals who think that everyone who doesn't like gays is a homophobe.
People who don't like gays, including homophobes.
Natalie Portman, for not seeking me out and falling irresistably in love with me.
Helen Mirren, for not seeking me out and falling irresistably in love with me, and for being born 33 years before me.
Jessica Simpson, for playing Daisy Duke when you cleary didn't cut it.
Marge Simpson, for not seeking me out and falling irresistably in love with me, and for not being real.
Wannabe "artists" who think they're already good enough at their art; it's everyone else who doesn't "get it." Oh, yes, you know who I'm talking to.
Those door-to-door college-aged magazine salespeople. Seriously, how long do you think we're going to believe that you're "barely beating your competitors" (ususally guys versus girls), and that you're "this close" to winning a trip to Costa Rica. Word of advice, if you're going to lie about being a communications student from USC, make sure you know the name of the communications program there.
Military "lifers" who think that people who get out to pursue other things are losers.
People who get out of the military to pursue other things who think that military lifers are losers.
The execs at NBC who cancelled The Black Donnellys after hurting its chances by "skipping" an episode. Seriously, how did Jimmy get out of jail?
Anti-war, pro-soldier people. As if that's not oxymoronic at all.
People who quit reading this blog entry before now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
