Frakking Grr
Oh, show. You didn't just go there, did you?
I mean, the thing was, I'd had a really long day (it involved three trips to IKEA in the same day. IKEA sucks all the life out of you in one trip, so . . .), I was not in, shall we say, peak energy mode while watching.
And I was sort of looking forward to the season for values of "looking forward" that equaled as much trepidation as anticipation.
I had a moment of being like "Wow. Heading in an interesting direction. Showing parallels between the Cylons and the Colonials. The show must be doing something right because all of a sudden I'm onboard with Lee/Dualla," which previously was a pairing that totally didn't work for me." I mean, that kiss between them, on their date, totally worked.
Which, you know, if I'd been more awake, might have been a sign. But then, all of a sudden, she shoots herself, and I'm like "Bwah-huh?"
There might have been some swearing.
Prior to that, I'd been musing on the interesting resonances of where the plot was going. I was starting to have hope that they might redeem this after all--like maybe the last season wasn't going to frak itself up and break my heart and stomp on it all over again.
And then, they had Dualla shoot herself in the head, and they had President Roslin fall apart and curl up in a fetal position on the floor with her little plant, and I was pretty much annoyed beyond all belief.
Really?
And then, Ellen Tigh?
Oh, show. How very far you have fallen.
And yes, this post brought to you by insomnia. double grr.