that there are no bad guys,” and I try to stay on the right side of
that line, but this deck seems really stacked. It’s all people who
either A) don’t matter or B) are so disgusting they don’t matter, which
means that anybody who throws in alongside them ceases to matter as
well. Which is not how this should go down, because I want to root for
everybody. Or, maybe in this case, for nobody. It’s hard to see where
the insurrectionists are coming from when this is the company they
keep. I guess somebody that’s not me could similarly say that it’s hard
to see where the loyalists are coming from when most of them are Cylons
and all of them are suddenly pro-Cylon, which tracks because the Fleet
is ignorant enough to think that “Cylons” are still the problem. But
I’ve actually been watching the show for four years, and it’s nothing
like that simple. I just wish it wereless simple to come down
on this side, and I’m afraid one Racetrack — whom I’ve always found
boring — and a few worried looks from Felix aren’t going to cut it.
This is a dumb plan, being carried out for dumb reasons, by the dumbest
trash in the Fleet. How is that attractive?
This is the problem, though. You do something assholish, even if you’re a good guy who by and large has a reasonable point, and you end up attracting these assholes because you need them to do stuff for you. You need bodies for your revolution so you take who you can get. And who you can get is usually who’s irrational and pissed off, because you’re in a hurry and they’ll go along with your crazy fast and not ask too many annoying questions, like “now what?” and “should we, like, have a plan before we go all berserker on the place?” It’s not that the revolution is bad because it’s being propagated by sucky people, it’s that the very nature of the revolution ensures a place for these rapists and dickheads because when all you’ve got is 10,000 hammers you need 10,000 nails. Flatheaded, thick ones, easy to bang into place. Thus, every rapist and dumbass on the planet ends up siding with you and if you feel sort of sticky afterward, well, look. You made up the recruiting brochure. This is what you asked for.
In any case, spoilers within.
It’s been months of moral ambiguity and deep thoughts. Thank God for a simple, satisfying, good-guys-win, bad-guys-get-shot, fuck-Tom-Zarek-in-his-ear, Gaeta-can-eat-a-bowl-of-dicks conclusion. I mean it, sometimes I’m lazy and I want to fucking cheer some badass escapades with guns and muscles.
How about we do this. Here is a list of things I yelled at the TV tonight, punctuated by throwing imaingary punches at imaginary things, waving of an invisible TEAM ADAMA foam finger, and joyous glugging of cheap pino grigio:
NO NO NO NO NO. Not Adama. I won’t let them. NO. This is not happening.
Fuck yeah, Starbuck! Fuck yeah! Ass kicking hotass Starbuck! God, look at her ARMS. I want a tattoo.
(Mr. A pauses the TiVo and asks if my hot space chick and I would like to be alone. I do not redeem myself in the slightest by replying, “Dude, Iwish.”)
Felix, you fucking suck. You suck suck suck suck suck. Fuck nuance. You suck.
Lampkin is apparently the only lawyer in the fleet.
You really hire the guy who got Baltar off to defend Adama? Felix, you moron.
Cantrell for the win. Sagitaron for the FUCKING WIN. “Yeah, get out of here, bitch, we gots bizness to discuss.” Go on, run, you little punk!
Jesus, Zarek. Man walks on fucking moon, KILLS FUCKING QUORUM.
(As the Chief crawls through the tiny crawl space ad infinitum) *peering through fingers* I can’t even watch this. (I’m claustrophobic.)
Hey, it’s FarrahSix! *hums Charlie’s Angels theme song*
Gaeta, you shithead. Great. GREAT. Now you can blame it all on Tom Zarek getting all kill-crazy instead of on how you were a stupid asshole to go along with it in the first place. Way to give that dillhole an out, show. Nice going.
OMFG LAURA. Yeeeeaaaaah, Crazy Space Mom! Fuck yeah! It’s time to airlock some motherfuckers!
I want Laura’s whole “by my pretty floral bonnet, I will end you” speech as the ringtone for my phone.
Bill Adama has a MOTHERFUCKING POSSE.
Now they’re in CIC and you LOST, Gaeta, booyah, suck it, Tom Zarek, bring Bill Adama the finest bagels and muffins in all the land! Oh, yeah, baby, my space BOYFRIEND IS BACK AND YOU’RE GONNA BE IN TROUBLE!
All this crazy cannot be good for Space Mom’s health.
(Mr. A: Unless she’s high, in which case I bet it’s twice as fun)
I should probably have deep, coherent thougths about Gaeta and justification and the Chief and how he threw himself on the engine he built with his blood and his hands, and how there’s now a hole in the wall, a hole in the world, what looks like a giant cat used it as a scratching post. I should probably also have some deep, coherent thoughts about how it was very lazy of the show to prove Adama and Tigh and Roslin are better than Zarek et al byexecuting Zarek et al, but I don’t know, I’m too busy still yelling FUCK YEAH at random intervals and throwing pillows in the air.
Next week we can get back to how there are no heroes in the universe anymore.