After last Friday night, falling into old bad habits, I decided to return to one of my good habits. One that makes me proud to be a human being, one that makes me feel uneasy, and one that usually ends up making me cry.
I just finished watching the latest episode of the Sci-Fi Channel's now critically-acclaimed series, Battlestar Galactica. Not that old 1970s Dirk Benedict vehicle, but a completely different show based loosely on the original. I watch the show religiously; last weekend, I almost had a friend FED-EX me a videotaped copy of a missed episode...thank goodness for re-runs.
Yeah...I've got a few quirks. Who doesn't?
I've blogged about BSG five times before, starting in June of last year. Back in August, I turned a certain person onto the show. (Hint - if anybody has ever wondered why it is, exactly, I periodically get bizarre e-mails asking the strangest things, it probably has to do with this one post. Yes, celebrities have visited Oxford Fucking Ohio, and this explains why I don't blog about people in entertainment.)
I've got my parents watching it. I even got my brother-in-law to sit down at watch almost the entire second season on DVD the day after Christmas...in one sitting.
I readily admit I'm a sci-fi nerd. While I've never been one to strap on the pointy Vulcan ears and visit fan conventions, I'm not at all embarrassed by the fact that I know the difference between warp drives and the Warped Tour. I dig cheesy zombie flicks. If it's got aliens, robots, monsters, vampires, or mutants in it, odds are I've watched it.
But Battlestar Galactica has a different appeal. Sure, the show is a sci-fi lover's dream. But BSG, at its heart, is one of the most daring political and social critiques ever produced for television. Not since Rod Serling used the Twilight Zone's fantasy world to tackle issues like racism, censorship, Joe McCarthy, and the Korean War has there been a show offered such subtle, seering commentary on everything from politics to pop culture.
I'm not the only one who thinks BSG is one of the best shows on television. Check out the New Yorker's review. How about Rolling Stone? Still not interesting you? How about Steven Hart's review of the Season 1.0 DVD set over at Blog Critics?
If you've ever wondered how I spend the majority of my Friday nights, well, now you know. Not very exciting, but, it's a lot more safe than reckless binge drinking and there's no risk of waking up next to someone with whom I have very little in common.
Oh, and before I forget...
I've had a few people in the last few weeks who've politely asked what the hell a 27-year-old, relatively level-headed professional found most attractive about a certain barely-legal Italian backpacker, so much so that he almost quit my damned job to move to another country.
Do you have any idea how goddamned sexy it is to come home and find a gorgeous woman curled up on your living room floor, wrapped up in a blanket, watching the same DVDs you were hoping to God said hot woman never found - the Battlestar Galactica boxsets, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Night of the Living Dead - while wearing your favorite Stetson? And to find out that said hottie actually enjoys them?
Or to get goosebumps when you sit down between somebody's legs, to feel three days' worth of leg stubble scratching your arms and not care because somebody wants to know how to turn on the subtitles?
Fini - Due to my changing job responsibilities and numerous serious personal issues (I’ve been out of work for a month on medical leave) this blog has run its cou...
7 years ago