Goodbye, Battlestar Galactica. It took me nearly a week to finally sit down and write this post, to shake off the dread, the chills, and the night sweats and claw my way to the computer to bid farewell to what?  A goddamned TELEVISION SHOW.


Alas, everything I've just said is true, and it is with a deep sense of loss and sadness that I write this post, beset by flashbacks of Bill and Lee Adama, Kara Thrace, Laura Roslin, Saul Tigh, and yes, almost especially that weasel-until-just-before-the-end Gaius Baltar.  This is horrifying.  To think I would feel such a crippling sense of estrangement like a vice around my heart knowing full well that I will never see a new episode of Battlestar, flawed as it was but nonetheless an almost majestic Sci Fi Channel series that provided such uncharacteristic depth for a show of its kind or, for that matter, almost anything else on cable or network television.

A few fans of Lost might have just shit their pants, but they'll simply have to deal with the blatant truth.  Lost is woefully limited by its existence as a prime-time network television show despite exceeding many network constraints. J.J. Abrams deserves his respect, but Ronald D. Moore and David Eick deserve their crowns.

At one point, The New York Times called Battlestar Galactica the "best-written show on TV" and John Hodgman may have written the best piece yet on the conception and genesis of the show.

Perhaps I'm overreacting.  Perhaps the spin-off series Caprica or a planned TV movie telling the story from the perspective of the Cylons will provide my methodone, something to wean me from my weekly drug.  I doubt it, though.  The only solution is to pay for a memory wipe and watch the whole thing all over again.

I wish I had more in me at the moment, but I might need some time before I can dig deep and revisit Battlestar in any meaningful way.  For now, I must simply cope and find suitable distractions.

So say we all.