Lucy, You Got Some Splainin' To Do.

Battlestar Galactica frustrates me. How am I supposed to wait a whole week to find out what’s going to happen. I need a BSG marathon. I need to see all of the final episodes in one sitting. I think that’s only six hours. I waited a full six months for last night’s teaser. I had gotten BSG out of my mind. It was sitting on a fond mental shelf with other past television greats like The Sopranos, The Wire, and The West Wing. I was able to go on with my life. But then last night, BAM! Spoilers: Dualla blows her brains out. Starbuck is the final Cylon except she’s not. Because Ellen Tigh is the final Cylon – maybe, possibly, perhaps. Earth was entirely populated by Cylons who destroyed themselves 2, 000 years ago. Are we to infer that WE are Cylons? Are the twelve colonies actually the Cylons while the Cylons are actually us? I bet they’re going infomercial on us and throwing in an EXTRA Cylon at no additional cost. Billy Mays is the final Cylon. What the frack is going on? I’m going to need closure. And by closure I mean the writers had better wrap this up neatly with a bow – everything. I don’t want a crappy cop out ending like The Sopranos had. That sucked. I want an epilogue, Harry Potter style. I dreamt about this stupid television program last night. Something like that hasn’t happened since…um…I don’t know…oh that’s right, it happened six months ago with the last BSG cliffhanger. If this show is going to seep into my subconscious then I think the writers have an obligation to put my mind at rest. I’m going to drop the $200 on the box set anyway, so there’s no downside to doing the right thing and ending this story with an actual ending. This is sad. I’m just begging now.