The Demonweasel Speaks

Last night was the last part of Battlestar Galactica. Fun, even though afterward you realize it’s really just a 4-hour pilot for a TV show they probably will never make. And if they did, I doubt the principal actors would be back for it. I mean, Edward James Olmos doing an hour long sci-fi drama? I dunno…

It’s fun and has a lot of potential. A lot of little interpersonal conflicts and problems, as well as little mysteries and things that the audience knows but the characters will have to figure out. It really is a fine setup for something, but it’s frustrating when you go into it thinking that it’s going to be its own standalone thing. Of course, maybe that’s just my own ignorance showing.

And hey, when did people start getting so fucking dumb? I can’t swing a dead cat around here lately without running into some semi-functional peckerwood stumbling through life all asses and elbows, fucking it up for everyone else. Everyone is freaking out about the flu and flu shots. Why? Did I miss the memo about the flu growing 50 feet tall and devouring cities. Okay, so a baby dies of the flu. That’s a tragedy, yes, but babies are dropping like flies all around the world. I guess when it’s in this country and it’s because parents are too fucking dumb to keep their kid warm it becomes a crisis. And guess what, we danced this dance last year and they are getting the sheet music ready for the next year. I can almost picture pharmaceutical executives sneaking into some middle-class white family’s house with a big syringe, making their way to the baby’s room, visions of flu-shot profits dancing in their heads.

And I can’t stand the conservative news stations with their smarmy cock-monkeys like Bill O’Reilly and that tight-ass douche-nozzle on Scarborough Country. And yes, I hope “Bill O’Reilly is a cock-monkey” and “Scarborough Country douche-nozzle” show up on the next search string. Can I channel surf without being subjected to their self-righteous idiocy, or see the knuckle-dragging primates on the Jesus channel? I get enough blinding idiocy at work, I don’t need to witness it when I try to relax, too.

And you know what else I’m sick of? Those obnoxious shows on VH1 that are “It’s good to be…” and it’s the name of some marginally-talented jackass, an they talk about how much money that have (and you, consequently, do not). I don’t give a shit if Justin Timberlake has 70 pairs of sneakers, or that he has 8 cars, totaling $380,000. You know what Justin, go fuck yourself. How about that? And again, don’t get me started on the Hilton sisters. Christ, I feel my forehead throbbing just thinking about them. And Trista and Ryan’s Wedding? It should be followed by their sterilization, because that’s one genetic branch that needs trimmed PDQ.

I often get asked why I’m so cranky, and honestly, I have no answer. I wish I did, but I don’t. I guess I just reached a point where I stopped being comically amused by these sorts of thing and have just gone into a zero-tolerance policy with them, and we all know how well zero-tolerance policies work. I can’t help it if I can only respond to a stupid question with a smart-assed answer (Although I still love the “Where can I find Hamlet?” “Denmark.” joke of a couple of months ago. That’s gold, Jerry! Gold!).

I mean, we all have our stupidity, our moments of total bone headedness. There are hundreds of interactions and things that I’ve said/done that I’d give valuable anatomy to take back/change. Hi, I couldnít lace my shoes the other day. I got a call tonight saying that I had miswritten the longhand amount on a check. Smooth move, Ex-lax. Hell, I sort of jacked up my wrist last night doing this weird thing that someone was talking about at the coffee shop when I was there for lunch. Something about grasping the sides, making a fist, holding it, and then popping it down to relieve pressure or something. Did it, now my hand feels all weird. By all means, take medical advice from some random village person you overhear in a coffee shop. Because they give out doctorates like toilet paper. For sure.

There are just days when my head just hurts with the stupidity of the human race, the almost calculated, blissful ignorance that floats around. Is everyone else just blind to it? Have they just given up? Maybe that’s why the Cylons want to destroy humanity (perhaps my only major gripe with Galactica is the lack of motivation for the Cylons return, although I guess we’re just supposed to accept that if we make intelligent robots, they are just going to get pissed off one day and start offing us.)

An optimist (I swear!), I remain…