Frak me, baby

For the past five or six months, I have been patiently waiting for one thing: the premiere of Battlestar Galactica. I know, I shouldn’t live my life around television, but a)the show rocks, and b)the show rocks especially hard because of what they did at the end of last season. Six months to find out what happened next seemed like forever.

About a month ago I IM’d my friend Nina and said, “Battlestar premiere party?” And seconds later we had it planned out. We set about sending out invitations, and planning who was going to bring what and who would make what. And we waited. And waited.

Until, finally, it was premiere night! During which we had way too much food and many, many people crammed into Nina’s living room. (Wasn’t that neat, how I thought of having the party and Nina ended up having it at her house? She has the better party house is why.) We thought of BSG drinking games: whenever they say ‘frak’! whenever they say ‘gods’! (We should have looked at this page, but oh well.)

And then we watched the premiere.

It was kind of like getting a two-hour punch in the gut.

This show should be required watching for anyone who wants to know what “put your characters up a tree and throw rocks at them” means.

Occupation! Suicide bombers! Abusive relationships! Enforced prostitution! Kapoes! Turncoats! Round-ups! Informers! An enemy that just keeps coming back no matter how many times you kill them! Weak, spineless puppets as leaders!

And I sure hope RDM and Co. have a gigantic redemptive arc planned for Apollo, who is now fat and whiny and annoying and no one would cry if he were killed off. That is a bad place for one of your main characters to be in, okay?

I cannot possibly guess where this show is going, which is one of the best things about it. Yowza.