Battlestar Galactica

So Gwen, the Cappie, told me that she and her friends were having a Battlestar Galactica night. Oh sweet, I thought, I love that show. I cancelled an invite to sit up in the owner's box with George Steinbrenner for the Sox/Yankees game so I could go. I'm a huge Dirk Benedict fan: he was great as Lt. Starbuck, and he was great as Faceman on the A-Team. One of the finest actors of our generation.

Well, I bet you already knew what I know now: there are two Battlestar Galacticas. There would be no Dirk Benedict that night. I regrouped and tried watching the new one, but I was sick to my stomach. Not only was it bereft of Dirk, but they couldn't even get anyone decent to play his part. The sense of humor that made the show what it was was completely nonexistant, and this sack of ass crack took itself way too seriously for what it was: lame-assed sci-fi. The Cylons went from being robots to hot chicks, just to make sure they got the key hard-up geeky guy demographic that would normally watch Buffy DVDs on a Friday night after the D&D shop closed. Man, these kids today...

The vegan straw that broke the carnivore's back was an Edward James Olmos sans moustache.

"Gwen, I'm outro. I can't handle this."

"Um... okay... but I thought you loved Battlestar Galactica."

"Yeah, the one from 1979 with Dirk Benedict."

Some guy that was trying to get in Gwen's pants decided to crack foxy.

"Oh that one; that one's goofy."

Goofy? I grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up.

"Do you understand that that shit on the TV right now is just as goofy? What makes that shit worse is that it has such an overinlflated sense of selfimportance that it can't see how goofy it is, as opposed to the old one that dealt with its goofiness in a tongue and cheek manner that made it endearing. Trying to make Battlestar Gallactic more realistic is like trying to make Tom and Jerry with a real cat and a real mouse: how fucking entertaining would that be if you put a stick of dynamite next to a mouse nibbling on cheese and a cat cleaning itself? You'd have a dead cat and a dead mouse in the first five minutes, fuck face."

"Dude, what are you talking about?"

I was slightly dejected, so I went to Ukranian Hank's nightclub, sat in a VIP booth, and explained my case to my friends Jose Cuervo and Jack Daniels. Much to my surprise, Gwen showed up.

"You were right," she said. "These kids today: no sense of humor. What do you say tomorrow we rent the real Battletsar Galactica and watch every episode?"

"I'd like that very much."