The last time a television show surprised me was when Boomer shot Adama. (I’ve had issues with Galactica, namely complaining in advance that saving the president’s life was going to be a terrific cheat. Turns out it made enough sense that I could believe it, because it wasn’t just convenient, it was complicating.) It will be awhile until I see more episodes, since we are watching it via Netflix instead of in “real” commercially-laden time, but I am convinced it will be worth the wait. For one thing, it isn’t on regular network tv.
The new Battlestar Galactica wouldn’t make it on network tv, because near as I can tell, there are only three shows on network television:
- The crime show
- The medical show
- The reality show
I wonder sometimes why there are only three shows on network tv. What do these kinds of stories tell us, over and over again?
As the Law & Order noise has chung-chunged its way into every brain in America, we know that crime is everywhere, yet somehow it only happens to other people in New York City. From the bits I’ve seen of shows like ER and House and whatever that McCutesypie show is called, part of the attraction must be that you can’t spend longer than five or ten minutes with doctors any other way. Yeah, it’s nice to know that if you have a really exotic freaky problem, an asshole genius and his troubled minions will probably save your life. Not so nice to think about how hospital staff are always screwing each other literally or figuratively, but hey what do you expect from people who are forced to work 80+ hours a week? As for the wife-swapping, supernanny-needing, how-far-down-the-alphabet-can-you-go and still be a celebrity anyway z-listers and vote-for-me / don’t vote for me types, this much is clear: other people’s lives are a freak show, and we the audience control their destinies. Or control their destinies by proxy, via the hosts/judges. Obviously, their destinies are out of their own hands, or they wouldn’t subject themselves to prying cameras, would they? No. Of course not.
We’ve got the remote, so we’ve got the power. In fact, the remote even has a POWER button on it.
Not that NBC is paying attention, it is clear to everyone by now they are clueless, but here are some things that would drastically improve the television coverage:
- Stop zooming in up an athlete’s nostrils during the medal ceremony. Nobody needs to see that, even their mothers.
- Incorporate reality-television ideas: vote Al Trautwig off the island. Bob Costas, off the island.
- Remember than many, many people go to bed before eleven, and even the people who don’t still would rather not wait until quarter past ten to see the big winner they heard about eight hours ago on the internet.
- The music puff pieces are set to would be better off left in the horror flicks and disease of the week tv movies from whence it came.
- I think it is hysterical the U.S. men’s basketball team lost to Puerto Rico. I mean, Puerto Rico is practically the fifty-first state, it is a tiny island, and they kicked the NBA’s ass. If you want to beat something to death, why not put a photo of the men’s team on a screen and have folks in the Olypmic village walk by, point, and laugh.
- I will not buy any product just because an Olympic athlete supposedly uses it. I don’t care what the Olympic team’s official pain reliever is (like these folks have a normal person’s pain tolerance anyway?) or what the official mid-morning snack product is, or the official toilet paper. Nobody does, so shut up.
Also, while I’m bitching about the Olympics, beach volleyball isn’t really a sport. It is a way for tan, tall chicks with small breasts to get folks to ogle them at the beach. Yes, I understand they are incredibly fit, that they could spike a volleyball down my throat if they wanted, and probably have resting pulse rates of 52, but that still doesn’t make beach volleyball a sport. It is about girl-watching. I mean, since when is anything even resembling a thong an official uniform? This is not the p0rn Olympics.
For the equestrian events, the horse ought to get the medal. The horse is the one who did the jumping, leaping, and trotting. Plus, they’d look funky with those laurels on their heads. Those things look ridiculous on people, but with horses, they’d be cool. Until the silver medalist reached over and nibbled on the gold medalist’s during the national anthem.