secret shame
Not that there are any actual secret shames in the world of bloggery. My perfectly frank and upfront shame is, as you all well know, cheesy sf television. After an interesting interaction involving a Doctor Who addiction, a member of my medieval music group and a portable hard drive concealed in a handy bucket, I now illegally possess the first season of Stargate SG-1. (And with that particular collage of motifs, could I get any more postmodern if I tried?)
Predictably I am somewhat hooked, if only because my brain is all post-glandular and needs soothing syrup. Also, MacGyver flashbacks. I think I was imprinted on MacGyver in late teenagehood. For my sins. But what I really want to know is where this damned series is actually pitched. I watched most of the pilot last night, and it was all on the cheesy sf/ accessible/ not wildly adult track until it suddenly featured full female nudity and a highly eroticised alien parasite entering a host. What's with that? Yours, confused.
Predictably I am somewhat hooked, if only because my brain is all post-glandular and needs soothing syrup. Also, MacGyver flashbacks. I think I was imprinted on MacGyver in late teenagehood. For my sins. But what I really want to know is where this damned series is actually pitched. I watched most of the pilot last night, and it was all on the cheesy sf/ accessible/ not wildly adult track until it suddenly featured full female nudity and a highly eroticised alien parasite entering a host. What's with that? Yours, confused.