Why, oh why, does the Church refuse to broadcast the Priesthood Session live to the public at large?
From the BBC:
Global temperatures will drop slightly this year as a result of the cooling effect of the La Nina current in the Pacific, UN meteorologists have said.
The World Meteorological Organization’s secretary-general, Michel Jarraud, told the BBC it was likely that La Nina would continue into the summer.
This would mean global temperatures have not risen since 1998, prompting some to question climate change theory.
Cannibalism may have to wait another decade or so.
Season 4 of the new Battlestar Galactica began last night. Those of us who are still fans of the original series refer to it as GINO, or Galactica In Name Only. Since the show began, I’ve been reviewing it episode by episode, and I post the reviews at the Moist Board, Tombs of Kobol, and the official SciFi Channel website. And, now that I have a blog and everything, I’ll post them here, too.
Beware of spoilers.
Well, the show is back. And so am I. Why?
Many of you have wisely pointed out that I clearly don’t like it much, so why do I bother to watch and review it? Well, I’m not even sure why myself. I guess it’s because I’ve been a part of the revival discussion for so long that I feel invested in the thing, and I’m still enough of a fan of Battlestar Galactica that I think someone ought to chronicle this dismal show as it dances on Galactica’s grave. I feel I ought to – what? I don’t know. Keep a record. Or, to use Gaius Baltarian terms, to “bear witness.”
Or maybe I’m just a jerk. That’s probably the best explanation.
Anyway, on to the show.
Rumor is that Michael Hogan, who plays the curmudgeonly Tigh-turned-Redeye, is supposedly perturbed by the fact that his character is a Cylon, because it doesn’t fit the way he’s played the character over three seasons. Glad to see that someone else has noticed. Nothing much fits anymore – this show is filled with fervent brainstorms and wild-eyed conceits, none of which can be combined into a cohesive whole. There’s lots of motion and no substance. The strategy, it seems, in this fourth and blessedly final season, is to keep things moving at such a frenetic pace that nobody has time to notice. Although it’s nice that they’ve finally dropped the reference to the Cylon plan from the opening montage. Since they abandoned even the pretense of having a plan about two years ago, it’s high time that the credits should follow suit.
Switching gears for a moment: Robert Reed, AKA Galactica 1980’s mad scientist and, more illustriously, the man named Brady who was busy with three boys of his own, once wrote a letter to the Brady Bunch producers complaining about the inconsistency in tone of how that silly little show was written. He compared it to a scenario where the surgeons from M*A*S*H are in the operating room, when, suddenly, who should burst in but Adam West’s Batman. Now, it’s conceivable that this M*A*S*H Batman is a mental patient, deluded and tragic, but it can’t really be the same Batman from the world of that TV series and still exist in the grimmer, more naturalistic world of M*A*S*H. Conversely, Alan Alda’s Hawkeye and Cesar Romero’s Joker with makeup over his moustache couldn’t meet up on the streets of Gotham City and start plotting Batman’s demise in a giant cream puff, at least not without fundamentally altering who Hawkeye is. These characters exist in different universes; they function by different rules.
Yet GINO is chock filled with Batmen in the OR.
When we last saw our heros, the Final Four-out-of-Five heard a Dylan/Hendrix tune and mangled everything we knew about these characters, and now “everything’s changed.” Anders can look at a centurion in a raider through the vastness of space – yes, raiders used to be unmanned, but go with it – and their red eyes blink in unison and suddenly they call off the attack. Wouldn’t such a recognition sequence have been useful for Colonel Tigh when his fellow toasters were scraping out his eye? I guess that was pre-All Along the Watchtower, so it doesn’t count. If they’d only had a classic rock station on New Caprica. Then we would have known that this characters, who defy everything we know and understand about Moore’s Cylons, are just M*A*S*H- style Adam Wests without the cowls.
Meanwhile, back in the Church of Baltar, where only hot chicks are allowed to worship, Gaius is praying to some tramp in a red cocktail dress and curing viruses by allowing angry ex-constituents to go all Sweeney Todd on him. This Baltar subplot is arguably the silliest element in a show that’s gone whole hog on the silly scale, because the writers clearly think they’re dabbling in something profound. In real life, weird cultists aren’t all fashion models, and religion is not solely the province of damaged, disturbed people. I don’t know where they’re going with all this, and neither do they. Yet they probably think they do, which makes it all the more incoherent.
The same could be said about the rest of the show. How can I get worked up about Starbuck’s return one way or the other? I’m not convinced that the writers have figured it out, so my guess is as good as theirs. I’m not sitting on pins and needles waiting to see what they finally pull out of their butt, because every indication is that it will be the same kind of sloppy storytelling shoehorned in to fit whatever cool new idea Moore and Co. had while eating cantaloupe for breakfast. Maybe she’ll turn out to be the lost 13th Cylon model.
But how can that be? Don’t the Cylon only have twelve models? Well, yes, they do now. But we still have 19 more episodes to go. Anything can happen! See, it turns out that there were really 13 all along, and didn’t you see the signs? Because, see, all the paper in the colonies have the corners cut off, which, according to Pithia, means that 12 is really 13. So everything you knew is wrong, and just pretend it didn’t happen, and the Cylons don’t have a plan, but don’t you want to know who the last of the Final Five is? I mean, Final Six? Or, maybe I should say, Secret Six? Because there are only six left, except the Subterranean Seven, who will come to life when Demigod Baltar plays “I Got A Brand New Pair of Roller Skates” on his sacred piccolo? But who has the brand new key? WHO HAS THE BRAND NEW KEY?!!!
Maybe Batman does. Look, he’s swinging into Sickbay right now.
Philip, who is a great dude if you get to know him, insists that Idiot is “correct on all accounts” with regard to his prophecy that within three to four decades, the earth will be eight degrees warmer, crops will be unable to grow, most of the population will be dead, and the rest of us will be eating each other.
There’s no way to conclusively prove him right or wrong, I suppose, but it’s worth examining the track record of similar statements made by alarmist blowhards over the years.
Let’s take a stroll down memory lane, shall we?
Let’s begin with easy pickins:
The battle to feed humanity is over. In the 1970s, the world will undergo famines. Hundreds of millions of people are going to starve to death in spite of any crash programs embarked upon now. Population control is the only answer.
—Paul Ehrlich, in The Population Bomb (1968)
I would take even money that England will not exist in the year 2000.
—Paul Ehrlich (1969)
In ten years all important animal life in the sea will be extinct. Large areas of coastline will have to be evacuated because of the stench of dead fish.
—Paul Ehrlich, Earth Day (1970)
In the coming decade, we could expect to lose all of Florida, Washington D.C., and the Los Angeles basin…we’ll be in rising waters with no ark in sight.
-Paul Ehrlich on global warming floods, May 1989
“This cooling has already killed hundreds of thousands of people. If it continues and no strong action is taken, it will cause world famine, world chaos and world war, and this could all come about before the year 2000.”
—Lowell Ponte in “The Cooling”, 1976
Could, but it didn’t. Not even close. Next:
“If present trends continue, the world will be about four degrees colder for the global mean temperature in 1990, but eleven degrees colder by the year 2000. … This is about twice what it would take to put us in an ice age.”
—Kenneth E.F. Watt on air pollution and global cooling, Earth Day, 1970
I love that phrase “If present trends continue.” It sounds so scientific, but it’s so preposterous.
Present trends don’t tend to continue into the territory the doomsayers anticipate.
“In a decade, America’s mighty rivers will have reached the boiling point.”
-Edwin Newman, Earth Day 1970
And this was back when the earth was cooling! Not sure how this genius came up with that one, but there you go.
“Quickly capping 363 oil well fires in a war zone is impossible. The resulting soot might well stretch over all of South Asia. Beneath such a pall sunlight would be dimmed, temperatures lowered and droughts more frequent. Spring and summer frosts may be expected… This endangerment of the food supplies… appears to be likely enough that it should affect the war plans…”
Well, they were set ablaze, and billyuns and billyuns of gallons were burned, but they were quickly capped with minimal environmental damage. (Actually, I doubt it was billyuns. Maybe just millyuns.)
“We have ten years to save the world’s oceans.”
– Ted Danson, 1988.
At last check, twenty years on, the oceans seems to be doing fine. Wish I could say the same for Danson’s career.
“The environment is in trouble – and the more it suffers, the tougher it is on your skin….”
– Seventeen magazine, 1991, warning about the dangers of the then-disappearing, now-reappearing ozone layer.
Do they still print Seventeen magazine? At least something’s disappearing, anyway.
I could go on, but you get the point.I’m not sure if Philip or yesterday’s Idiot will, but Philip is still a good guy.
We’re too many people. That’s why we have global warming. Too many people are using too much stuff. On a voluntary basis, everybody in the world’s got to pledge to themselves that one or two children is it.
We’ll be eight degrees hotter in 30 or 40 years and basically none of the crops will grow. Most of the people will have died and the rest of us will be cannibals. Civilization will have broken down. The few people left will be living in a failed state — like Somalia or Sudan — and living conditions will be intolerable.
It’s been a long time since anybody caught me saying something stupid.
Oh, by the way, this is Stallion. I didn’t write anything in the preceding paragraphs. No, those are the words, transcribed verbatim, of an idiot. He’s a wealthy idiot, to be sure, with a tremendous amount of power and influence – he founded CNN, for heaven’s sake – but he’s demonstrably imbecilic.
Still haven’t figured it out? You’ve just seen the world through the eyes of Jane Fonda’s tomcatting ex, the repugnant Mr. Ted Turner. Businessman. Mogul. Idiot.
Let’s break it down, shall we?
We’re too many people.
Really, Idiot? When, precisely, did we cross the threshold from “just right” to “too many?” How much smaller ought we to be? How many of the “too many people” should we mow down? Should we focus on the poor brown folks or should we just start nuking continents at random? You may want to rethink your call to dismantle the military, because that’s really going to make things awkward when it comes time to start thinning the herd.
That’s why we have global warming.
Globe’s too warm for you, Idiot? How warm ought it be? Back before the crowds started to show up, like maybe during the ice age? How about during the impending ice age of the 1970s? And if it’s the “too many people’s” fault, what will it take to turn the thermostat up or down? How much blood will we need to shed per degree?
Too many people are using too much stuff.
Billionaire idiots have the most stuff. Will you stop using it, please, Idiot? Or is your amount of stuff just right, and it’s just those poor blighted furriners who ought to forego the use of stuff and keep living in jungles if they know what’s good for ’em?
On a voluntary basis, everybody in the world’s got to pledge to themselves that one or two children is it.
Well, you’re in luck, Idiot. Europe has volunteered, thereby dooming their culture and their population to virtual demographic extinction in three generations. Of course, those pesky Arabs and such just keep on breeding. What’s the punishment for those who don’t volunteer? You know, people have had great results drowning their excess cats – you might want to look into that.
We’ll be eight degrees hotter in 30 or 40 years and basically none of the crops will grow.
That’s surprising, Idiot, especially in light of the fact that when we actually WERE eight or nine degrees hotter, places like Greenland were growing crops like crazy. See, warm weather is actually good for crops, Idiot. But since not even the looniest alarmists anticipate any more than a one degree change in temperature over the next hundred years, it’s a moot point anyway. You ought to know that, but since you’re an idiot, I’ll cut you some slack.
Most of the people will have died and the rest of us will be cannibals.
Glad to see you anticipate being part of the “rest of us” who’ll be still around, Idiot. I can only hope that I’m still around then, because I bet you taste like chicken.
Civilization will have broken down. The few people left will be living in a failed state — like Somalia or Sudan — and living conditions will be intolerable.
Say, Idiot, you know what might help people in those intolerable conditions? Stuff. You know, the stuff that we’re using too much of. But won’t it be sad when we run out of stuff and people and it gets cold again? Oh, wait. That’s good, then, right? Because the crops start growing again, but then who’s going to make sure we don’t breed ourselves back into trouble? Think what that will do to meat prices once cannibals have a wider selection. I’ll bet they’ll be a run on the supermarket for Norwegians.
It’s been a long time since anybody caught me saying something stupid.
Yeah, well, I’ve got news for you, Idiot. Time to reset the clock.
So today, I went on a business lunch to the Red Iguana, a greasy spoon near the Salt Lake Airport that serves really yummy Mexican food, and I order the Red Plate Special, which is tiger prawns in a gooey, spicy brown sauce. The only problem is that the tiger prawns still have their tails on them, so I’m trying to indiscreetly remove the tails with my fingers. I know, I know, I should have just cut the tails off, but there’s a lot of good shrimp meat in those tails.
So apparently yesterday’s blog post was boring. What is it with you people? I give and I give, and what do I get in return? Huh? Don’t tell me about your “needs.” Your needs? Your needs?! YOUR NEEDS?!! What about MY needs?!!!!!