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Last night at about 11:07 p.m. I did a search for "Daniel Dreilide" and got zero results. Today, 5:24 p.m., 174.
This is about Battlestar Galactica
I did wonder at one point if Starbuck was Chipping the piano player, but then thought surely she would remember what her father looked like and dismissed it. I forever get this show wrong. (Or does it get me wrong? Discuss.)
IMO Someone to Watch Over Me was one of the best episodes they've ever done, and makes me wonder why more can't be like it, why so much of this final season has been wasted on other crap, and why they are gypping us out of the fantastic talent of Katee and Tricia and the others by taking it away from us too soon.
Some questions that either last night's show aroused or I just happened to wonder about since then. You probably have too.
- How did Boomer find the fleet?
- Why would the centurions want skin jobs anyway? Unless they could become them, why would they care? Cavil talks with rancor about how humans enslaved cylons, but then the skin jobs just went and enslaved the centurions themselves. How completely genuous and unhypocritical of them. Really, John, you have a skill.
- When SB says the mutiny thinned their ranks: What happened to everyone who turned against Adama, anyway? They didn't all die. Racetrack, how could ye, and where have ye gone?
According to Battlestar Wiki:
- The name 'Dreilide' is German for 'third eyelid' and refers to the inner eyelid, regarded as the gateway to the soul and realms of higher consciousness. The third eye is often associated with visions, clairvoyance, precognition, and out-of-body experiences, and people who have allegedly developed the capacity to use their third eyes are sometimes known as seers.[2]
- The analog for Dreilide Thrace in the Original Series is Chameleon. Chameleons have a third eye called a parietal eye.
And of course, back to the '70s: A charming and aging con man, Chameleon just happens to be Starbuck's father.
I wonder if there's any chance I beat Jenny to this.
Hey, lookee here!
And look where they are. Aw.
P.S. Under "Sponsored links from Yahoo!" on the TWoP recaplet page for this episode, in which Jacob says the word "Watchtower," the first link is this:
High quality leather binding for Jehovah's Witnesses. Bible and reason book. Gold edging. Rush orders and credit cards. Other ministry items available.
She was singing your name over and over again
What is it with salad anyway? Why haven’t we evolved yet to crave the things that are actually healthy for us? This makes no sense to me right now, sitting here staring at the remainder of the $10 salad I made at Collegetown Bagels and wishing it were made of Salt & Fresh Ground Pepper Kettle Chips instead and wishing I didn’t wish this and oh the snake it just keeps on eating its tail don’t it.
The reality of potato chips does our bodies zero good, except for all the tastiness. And don’t start telling me about how it helps me run away from tigers and chase woolly mammoths and flee from my tribal enemies across the veldt and escape the aliens building the pyramids, because I’m not buying it anymore. Get with it already, cells, and adjust to my modern-day eating habits! I eat for pleasure now, not survival. Well you know. Still survival, yes, I don’t want anyone in celestial power thinking I’m taking that for granted. But how do we evolve to cook saffron cream sauces and delectable curries but not to process them better for less heart-solidifying cholesterolification? Why don’t I crave raw spinach instead of gooey sweet-sauced pizza topped with blue cheese dressing? Why could I digest milk for the first 33 years of my life but no more? Why does my neighbor “Old Crackles” smell like beans?
This brings me to something I’ve actually wondered about for years. We have these brains inside our heads, right. (Or so I’m told! Ha ha!) Our brains control everything our bodies do. Therefore our brains already know everything needed about biology and anatomical chemistry and other terms I could also maybe make up while sitting here but really you get my drift. So why do we need to study these things to learn about them? We’ve got the libraries already in our craniums. Somewhere there surely must be a switch that turns the lights on in the stacks.
I bet the aliens can process the chips just fine there inside their skinny stupid space suits, and that’s why they built the pyramids the way they did, and it was actually to be storage for chips well into the space future, and where’s my hovercraft, you pyramid-building chip-eating veldt-chasing space jerks?
Yeah. I thought so.
Well something got lost in translation somewhere betwixt "Here is your court date, Moonkee" and The Day I Actually See If I Can Have the Ticket Reduced/Dismissed. Helpful and generous amie Melissa accompanied me on the 90-minute drive to Clifton Springs for the 7 p.m. court date. We got to our last turn on Mapquest at about 6:30, looking for Manchester Town Court in a not terribly populated area but a stone's throw from the Thruway (irony!), and stopped at the Manchester Town Hall on presumption that there probably wouldn't be two Manchester Anythings. Indeed it had the same address as the court, so OK, we parked.
This cat was hungry during this time period
The doors were locked, and its office hours said whatever-4:30, but there were two cars with people inside waiting, and no one inside the cars was making out, esp. as there was only one person apiece, so it would have had to be some kind of Ralph Malph thing, and if that's your thing that's OK, I'm just saying, they looked like they were waiting for something and knew what they were waiting for. Then a Forrester pulled up with a lawyerly/judgely fellow inside, and we knew we were in business. We also both knew we had to do some business and hoped the restrooms would be open.
Court takes up about half the town hall's non-bathroom/non-hallway/non-barn-photo-archive facilities. There was a court clerk, a bailiff (I assumed), and the judge, who probably owns his own tractor. Not a slight, just noticing! No Kind Officer M***seng, either, which made me so happy, till ...
When I got called up, I asked about reduction/dismissal, and was told I'd have to come back to talk to the DA. Would Feb. 18 work?
Ugh, you mean it's not OVER?
This also means I may have to actually think and prepare.
I have to go to traffic court tomorrow night. The claim by Mr. CoppyPants is that I was going 84 on the Thruway in the Town of Manchester. My counter is that because I am made of magic, I am not bound by such laws of "physics" and "speed" and "why didn't I have some peanut butter cookies on hand for just such an occasion," and also we have entered the Time of Hope and Unicorns, so, really, why are we doing this again? And does Clifton Springs have a good diner? Someone had better be able to direct us to some pannycakes is all I'm saying.
