Battlestar Galactica, aka, The Source of My Current Paranoia

Battlestar Galactica – the new one starring Edward James Olmos, and not the late 70’s Lorne Greene/Dirk Benedict vehicle – is pretty much my favorite show right now. I’ve been catching up on the first few seasons via Netflix, and have found myself thoroughly entranced.

It’s one of the only shows in history to feature all 5 of The Mill’s Pillars of Perfect Television: explosions, sex, politics, robots, and Greek mythology.

The writing and plotlines ain’t half bad either.

Still, I hesitate to call it the best show of all time. In fact, no matter what happens over the 4th and final season (we already know the show ends this year) I’ll never call it the best.

How can I be so sure?

Because Battlestar Galactica makes me paranoid.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the show’s basic premise, it goes something like this:

1) Another race of Humans on a far-off planet created the Cylons.
2) The Cylons started out as helpful robots, but then began to evolve on their own.
3) They started to fight back, further evolving until they look just like humans.
4) They also feel like humans – are essentially indistinguishable from us.
5) They launch a major attack, and are trying to wipe out the human race.
6) About 50,000 humans survive the attack and are now in search of Earth – the mythical home of a lost tribe of humans (us).
7) Or something like that.

Anyway, the main point is that the evil robot Cylons look just like us. They can easily infiltrate our society. Even they themselves don’t know they’re Cylons until activated by software buried deep within their Cylon brains.

So why does this bother me so damn much?

Well, what if Barack Obama is a Cylon?

Bear with me here.

Cylons are attractive, intelligent, and mysterious.

Sound familiar?

Cylon Family Tree?

Ever notice how Obama’s speeches have a sort of mechanical efficiency to them? How, compared to our current President, it’s as if his words have been machined from a solid piece of titanium? He’s too perfect. Especially when compared to Bush.

Ever suspect how Obama himself might be machined from a solid piece of titanium? How frackin’ frightening would that be? A killer robot President?

Further evidence: During one of Obama’s basketball playing photo-ops, when he dove for a loose ball and skinned his elbow, I could swear I spied the glint of metal where a tiny patch of flesh used to be. It was quickly bandaged by one of his minions.

Obama a Cylon? Ludicrous accusation? Only time will tell. But as we approach Election Day, at the very least, I’ve given you something to ponder.

As for McCain, I’m not too worried about him. He’s way too old-looking to be a Cylon. There’s just no way a highly-intelligent, advanced species of sentient robots would produce a McCain model.

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McCainiac Or Obamaniac?

And so the debate begins.

Southern whites and Ted Nugent like McCain. Urban elitists and John Cusack love Obama.

How do you choose when both candidates are so damn cuddly?

You need to look deep down inside, and choose the candidate with the cooler voice or the stronger jawline. But before you make up your mind, watch the following video.





If you can sit through the whole thing, then you should probably vote for McCain. If you find yourself snapping your fingers, clapping your hands, or stomping your feet, then you should probably be on his Vice Presidential candidate short list.

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Another Letter To Hillary Clinton

(Back in February, I wrote my first letter to Hillary, offering some urgent advice for her campaign. She didn't listen to me, and now she's in dire straits. So here's another note, offering even more advice. Will I ever be able to get through that tough, thick hide of hers - with my words?)

Dear Hillary,

So you lost North Carolina by a ton, and Indiana was won by the slimmest of margins – less than two percentage points. You actually fell a little further behind in terms of delegate count and popular votes.

You should have listened to me when you had the chance.

In my last letter, I told you to go for the choke hold. It would seem that you misunderstood my intention. And it would now appear that your inability to decipher my advice is costing you.

You see Hillary, I wasn’t telling you to put Obama in a figurative choke hold – via negative publicity about his former pastor, or by focusing on some stupid comments that he’s made.

What I was trying to convey is that you need to get HIM to put YOU in a literal, physical, two-handed choke hold on national TV. I didn’t care how you did it. But I was confident that you could piss him off enough to make it happen.

What a CHANGE that would have been to Washington “politics as usual.”

Suffice it to say, you blew it. You really crapped it up this time, Clinton. Please re-read my last note. I won’t explain it again.

Even so, you’re right. The battle goes on, and you shall fight to the end.

Aristotle once said, “It’s not over until the fat lady sings.”

And although that doesn’t apply here (and I’m not calling you fat), I think it’s an important thing to note, and could serve as a useful rebuttal to the millions of democrats who are now asking you to step aside – to allow the uppity Obama to steal the nomination from your working class - yet Palmolive smooth - hands.

Some say you have no chance to win, mathematically - that you have no chance, realistically speaking, to secure the party’s nomination.

Others say there aren’t enough delegates left – that even if you won a vast majority of the remaining votes, you still couldn’t technically win.

Mathematically. Realistically. Technically.

These are the words of losers and quitters.

Clearly, you are not a loser. And you have no need for words such as “unattainable”, “inarguable,” or “actually-no-chance.”

And yet, I feel like you need some more advice right about now. I just don’t know if it’s worth pouring my heart and soul into this correspondence.

No matter. This election is too important. I won’t cower in a corner, crying like a coddled weakling.

Hillary, my advice to you is this: STAGE A MILITARY COUP. Just to be clear, that’s a sudden and decisive change of government illegally or by force. It’s your only solid shot at grabbing power.

"Now, Mrs. Clinton hold on to your coffee, cause what you see over there is called a 'big gun,' and the man holding it is known as a 'United States soldier.' He's on our side, so don't be afraid of the face paint."

Hill, hamming it up for the cameras, while internally calculating which soldier is trustworthy enough to help her overthrow the Republican warlords in Washington.

Either that, or let Bravo film a reality show about your campaign. If the ratings are anywhere near those of Top Chef, then the remaining super delegates have to fall in line behind you.

So to recap my latest counsel: either a) overthrow the government via military force, or b) get a reality show of your own.

Good luck with this new and improved plan. I know you can pull it off gracefully. If you go the reality TV route, just let me know when to set my DVR.

Warmest regards,

A big fan of yours and Bubba's since '92,

I was born about 100 miles from Scranton - your hometown,

So you see we're very similar in most ways,

Except for a discrepancy of about 109 million dollars between our bank accounts,

But otherwise we are birds of a feather,

We are soul sisters, even though I am a man,

So best wishes for a successful campaign/coup/reality show


- The Mill

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Dinner With Obama

What would you give to have dinner with Obama?

$100?

$500?

$25,000?

$500,000,000?

How about none of the above?

I’m not implying in any way, shape, or form, that dinner with Barack Obama wouldn’t be worth one of the numbers above - for most of us, one of the smaller ones. But right now, for a limited time, you can win a chance to dine with Barack “The Change Machine” Obama for any donation to his Presidential Primary campaign. Even five bucks.

Here’s the link:

https://donate.barackobama.com/dinner


I find this proposition very exciting. After all, who doesn’t like free dinner. And on top of all that, you get some serious face time with one of the most charmingly approachable, mesmerizingly affable, and bewitchingly adorable gentlemen to ever grace the halls of Congress.

He’s such a vamp.

Seriously though, this guy is way cool. And I bet he’s just as cool in person.

But getting back to the central matter at hand - the free dinner. A few questions come to mind immediately.

- Where do you think he’d take us to eat? Olive Garden? Applebee’s? Please?

Barack, if this is what's for dinner, then I'm heading over to Red Lobster to meet Hillary. At least she'll let me order the Shrimp Combo.

- How many beers could I have before the Secret Service cut me off? Six? Twelve?

- What would I wear? Business casual? Power tie/power slacks/power socks combo? Top-hat and jockstrap?

- What would he wear? Capitol Hill Collection suit and tie? Sweatpants and t-shirt? Linen slacks and a blazer, with wife-beater underneath – Don Johnson/Sonny Crockett style?

- And finally, what would we talk about? Politics? March Madness? The new Batman movie?

- Oh, and also, am I allowed to order the surf ‘n turf?

So, admittedly, and as you could’ve guessed from my enthusiasm, I already entered the contest. I made certain that the donation was small enough to ensure a relatively solid return on investment. Even if I don’t win, I can still enjoy some amount of residual excitement during this upcoming week.

And at the very, very absolute least, I bought myself a reasonably timely blog topic.

Of course if I win, I’ll be sure to tell you all about it - and thus, will have bought myself two blog topics.

In other words, I can’t lose. And neither can Barack Obama.

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