I’ve been wanting to do a review of the first episode of Battlestar Galactica, season 4, for a while now. This is pretty much because the new Galactica rules. But since the second episode has already come and gone, all my Battlestar Galactica buddies will have seen the new season by now and realized that it’s going to be totally awesome. (Duh!) Therefore, a review would be a little late. So how can I spin this in a way that will keep me both smug and amused?
Eureka! I’ll pi*s off the uber-Trekkers with some good natured ribbing. And so, as I began twirling my considerable mustache and Civil War era mutton chops, this article was born.
Let the pain begin.
The scene opens. Our TV screens are filled with images of dials and blinky things. And someone … perhaps your standard Data or Dualla character … tells the man in charge that they have a choice. They can save a billion people from an asteroid or one little girl with pigtails and a lollipop the size of Commander Riker’s head. What would the leaders of these respective shows do when offered such a choice?
Star Trek: The Next Generation: Picard turns to Data and Geordi and orders them to solve the impasse in 40 minutes even though the whole Starfleet Core of Engineers and numerous teams of scientists haven’t solved it in the last 40 years. Three commercial breaks later, everyone is alive and sipping Picard’s earl grey while enjoying cartoons on the holodeck. No repercussions on the characters what-so-ever. Data goes back to making lame puns while Geordi bemoans Reading Rainbow. “Why?” he screams, “Why?!?” Deanna Troi wears something hot and slinks around while she talks in an annoying voice. Her mother tries to bang Picard, but the Captain’s a priest or something, so no go. Riker gains more weight. Meanwhile, I’m left sighing and wanting more.
The new Battlestar Galactica: The universe has one less pigtailed girl in it. Needs of the many and all that, ya know. So it’s for the best, really. (Even the lines at the Colonial Chucky Cheese get just a little bit shorter, so everyone agrees it had to be done.) Only a million of the billion people are actually saved because a single bolt was missing from the contraption used to perform the rescue. A grieving Adama starts ballin’ like a chick and staring at pictures of his dead wife. Colonel Tigh gets drunk and takes a swing at Baltar.
This is that time
when Baltar banged your
good and hard.
Baltar runs away and deals with his problems by getting laid way more in a single night than I will in my entire life. (Easily.) President Roslin shoves someone out an airlock. (It doesn’t matter who.) Starbuck gets laid way more than I ever will in my entire life, then gets drunk and kicks Tigh in his gristled old-man nards. Then she has her first (?) lesbian experience with Dualla. Later, we find out that the million people they saved are actually Cylons who nearly destroy the fleet. It’s a cliffhanger! Awesome! The whole thing becomes a painful affair that has lasting repercussions for at least two seasons. We all find out that Dirk Benedict is God. Yeah, now that’s a show!
Yep. This alone has me leaning toward Battlestar Galactica. I mean, come on! Which show is more dramatic? Which show has more balls? But that’s only the beginning.
Bored to tears by Friends reruns (I can’t believe it was the most popular show ever!) you start flipping through channels and a flash across the screen catches your eye. You see alien ships encircling a single spaceship … something sleek and white, like a starship, or maybe something mean and functional, like my favorite Battlestar … and you realize the heroes are outnumbered 4 to 1. What will happen? How will the heroes survive?!?
Star Trek: Voyager: Still mumbling about bullies, Janeway plops down in her chair and calls, “Battle stations!” The ship rocks violently every 40 seconds or so, because the aliens are actually pretty nice and want to give her time to discuss the problem with her bridge crew. Chakotay (I call him Chuckles-worth) tries to convince her to turn back,
Seven of Nine,
happy as always.
but Janeway is determined to get everyone home and that means crossing a few borders and pis*ing off aliens. Tuvok raises an eyebrow while firing phasers, which have an annoyingly synthesized whine. (The phasers … not Tuvok’s eyebrows.) If you listen carefully, the phaser-sound is actually whispering “bogus” through your TV speakers. Wisely, the camera crew makes sure to give us a shot of Seven of Nine’s a*s to keep us from changing the channel. (Sorry fellas, but that’s not Jeri Ryan’s a*s … it’s padding! Jeri Ryan has no ass … merely the back of her front, on which she sits.)
Finally, Paris recommends they set their torpedoes to maximum yield (gasp!) and Janeway barks, “Do it!” This allows Voyager to escape while the alien’s engines are disabled. No one is hurt on either side, so no big deal. Wow, that was close, huh? ::wink, wink:: And we don’t get so much as a peek at Seven’s bra strap! What the-! We continue to wonder how
Here, Seven of Nine
barely escapes the
groping hand of
a love starved uber-nerd.
Sorry little fella,
better luck next time.
much of her borg-zongas are really silicone mommy-bags and how much are just good old fashioned padding. (Like her a*s is.) The Doctor sings to some opera you’ve never heard of. Harry Kim fantasizes about his mom’s cooking … instead of Seven of Nine?!? (He must have been so confused when Tom Paris got married to a girl, of all things.) Neelix is annoyingly optimistic. The crew votes for his death (again) but the Talaxian just shrugs and laughs it off. Naomi can’t sleep, so Seven sighs with annoyance as she stays up playing Kotiscott all night. She never even takes off her high heels.
B’lana yells at Paris for leaving the seat on their star-toilet up again. Janeway complains that Chuckles-worth isn’t supportive enough, then goes to Harry Kim’s room and sits there quietly until the little tike cries himself to sleep. Pretty much the same old same old. Credits roll. We feel empty inside. Is it bed time yet?
The new Battlestar Galactica: The Galactica launches Vipers in a desperate attempt to provide covering fire for the civilian fleet. (The battlestar could leave now and save itself, but the civies need time to spin up their FTLs.) The tiny ships burst from the battlestar’s launch tubes under a hail of Cylon weapon’s fire while raiders swoop in and attack. The boom and bellow of Galactica’s cannons thin out the enemy ships, but a few Cylon nukes manage to take out a handful of civilian ships. Apollo wishes he could do something to help, but he quit being a Viper pilot to join the Quorum of Twelve. He wonders if he made the right choice. Meanwhile, Baltar sees visions of Six bouncing up and down on his man-shlong as she tries to keep him from hurting himself out of sheer panic. Starbuck saves the fleet with one leg tied behind her back while smoking three cigars. But not before a heavy Cylon raider crashes into Galactica and a boarding party tries to kill President Roslin. Stands With A Fist outsmarts them and blows them out an airlock before they can shoot. (Always a good day for her.) Finally, the civies start bugging out right as four more Cylon baseships jump into the fray. Tigh gives the order to follow them, but not before he shoots Adama in the back …
Dirk Benedict is the Cylon god …
of cigars. He’d be even cooler if
he had tits and other lady things like the
new Starbuck. But anyway…
because he’s a Cylon double agent! Nooooo! Adama’s life is saved, but now he’s a cripple. With him and Tigh out of the picture, Apollo has to return to active duty and lead the fleet to Earth. Baltar gets laid again.
We find out that Richard Hatch was actually God all along and that Dirk Benedict was just an impostor. Everything we thought we knew about the Galactica universe is turned upside down. We have to wait until next week to find out the rest. Man, I can’t wait.
I know which series I want to see so far. But is this all, or should I stop beating a dead horse as I point at the uber-Trekkers and laugh? Naaah.
When last we left our heroes, they were fighting it out on some barren rock against a determined enemy that just won’t quit. Supplies are running low and the crew has to get back to their ship before junior officer so-and-so dies from a combat wound. How the hell will they get out of this one?
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Captain Sisko curses the decision to allow his son to come along on the journey. So does everyone else, because Jake is annoying and doesn’t know how to dress himself properly. (Have you seen this guy’s wardrobe?) Meanwhile, Bashir still can’t fix the Captain’s habit of wheezing whenever he talks. Odo infiltrates the enemy camp as a dog or something instead of turning into something cool, like a belly dancer or a decent shirt for Jake. Preferably one that says “I’m with stupid” and an arrow pointing at Jake’s face. O’Brien ends up killing all the Jem’Hadar with some gizmo. Worf pouts because no tried to kill him. After three weeks of being stranded on a desolate hunk of space rock, the crew needs a sonic shower and a shave … and that’s about it. No one even tries to get laid. (What the-?!?) Or if they do, it’s off camera and they’re all giggling like kindergarteners. Jake and Nog ask Colonel Kira how babies get made. “When you’re older,” she promises, but they know she’ll never tell. B*itch. Oh, and the junior grade so-and-so died, but no one mentions him ever again. He wasn’t even an important character so we don’t care either. But, as always, he was Hispanic. I really don’t know why.
The new Battlestar Galactica: Half the main characters are stranded due to Cylon sabotage, so the Colonials know they have a double agent on board. But who? Roslin loses it on Adama because he refuses to leave his people stranded, so she tries to have him locked up. A civil war ensues on board the Galactica, leading us to wonder how the hell Adama learned to walk again after he was crippled in Point 2. Meanwhile, back on the planet, Apollo is captured and tortured for information. He is finally killed, but replaced with a perfect Cylon clone that goes back to the human encampment. Tyrol suspects something, but bides his time until he’s sure. Will he be too late? Baltar has a five-way with Dualla, Starbuck, the (imaginary?) number Six, and Colonel Tigh’s wife. Even Doc Cottle can’t explain the anatomy behind this one. “That’s impossible!” he insists, hacking up plumes of cigarette smoke. But Mrs. Tigh just sighs and says, “Yet it happened. Mmm hmmmm. Damn right.” (Yes, you heard me right: Baltar’s shlong-powers are so great, he actually managed to bring her back from the dead!) Decades later, when Baltar dies, his body is dissected for further study. No one is able to comprehend what they find.
I know which show I’m watching. How ’bout you?
Star Trek: Enterprise: Everyone hates this show so it doesn’t matter. Well, everyone except the super-duper-uber-Star Trek nerds. Still, out of respect, I’ll hold back on making any Andorian sex jokes or comments about the time Archer’s face just happend to fall right between T’Pol’s boobs when they were tied up together. (Totally random chance and not a desperate ratings ploy, I’m sure.) Neither of these were enough to save the show any way.
The new Battlestar Galactica: …just plain kicks Enterprise’s hairy a*s. ’nuff said.
I know that some of you **cough** Star Trek nerds **cough** will disagree with my assessment. I’ve decided that your lives must already be so sad that I shouldn’t tease you any more about it. Well… Okay, maybe later.
In any case, there it is. Either you accept this as incontrovertible proof of BSG’s superiority or you’re weird. I’m an expert, so whatever I say goes. The Lords of Kobol have declared it so.
Note to Trekkers: Send your hatemail to the contact link at the bottom of the page. It’s up to you. I won’t read it, so it doesn’t really matter either way. Whatever makes you feel like you’ve done something to defend the honor of these imaginary characters … even though it won’t count or help. Yeah. Stings, don’t it?
The prequels sucked.
-the Atheist Geek-