said the joker to the thief.
imagine the convoluted mechanisms determining the unraveling of a serial involving a chain of unexpected events, the tangle of a plot that should make the sponsors happy while staying within the budget of the CG, tangled and turns as the writers receive their hard-earned paychecks.
Battlestar Galactica manages to be exciting despite these restrictions, a trickle of work on the skin that play hide and seek, and some plots theocratic quite surreal, but it is clear that the story of an obsolete warship offline, pursued open space empire by an inexhaustible cyborg programmed only for the genocide, should not end like that.
Or at least that's how I'd end up, here. Certainly it would be nice to see
, this beloved land, just before the end. But only to see it and do not reach it because, in short, the engines Cylon FTL certainly should not be the first to crash in the triple jump competition.
Seeing you, then, but realize that it is useless to any kind of break, so the bases are stellar right there, ready to call an infinite number of reinforcements, ready to bomb these four bitches as soon as I stepped in. .. ground and ready to take everything from Wyoming to the platform Ross.
would be right in realizing the good.
realize, after crossing a couple of dials, having lost count of nuclear warheads touched and have been for months (years?) The exhaustion of this exhausting race follower, infiltrated, monotheistic unsustainable, that it is time to do it over.
Then leave the fleet of husbands and wives with children, responsibilities, mortgages to pay, head on my shoulders but not a shred of phaser continue on its course, taking full advantage of the wonderful freedom to say stop, once and for all, offered by a solo career, unconnected, perhaps filled with opportunities for happiness go to hell and convinced, deluded, to make us helpless.
mass, of the planet we might as well do without it, the last episode.
I, in fact, I would like Adama ordered a beautiful drift of conventional motors. A sudden change of direction, long-just long enough to arm all you can arm, to unleash all the Viper able to bite and to express their mood in a substantial injury and happy. Followed, of course, the screams of a radio Starbuck bloodthirsty. This music in my ears
http://listen.grooveshark.
and fire and flames in his eyes.
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