Meanwhile, in Baltar's pants, he is rooting. His pen is gone, and over and over he's whispering, "The nature of modern life is obsession..."
Also missing? Roslin's glasses, which she exposits while she's giving Lee permission to depose Caprica on Colonial One. Adama stands around being very judgy and weird about everything, because the thing about Daddy Issues is that they make it difficult to write about Daddies, especially if they are awesome. The person who writes The Cider House Rules is never going to be the person who writes 7th Heaven. Unless, of course, Moore and Eick are producing it, I guess. Which would be like the greatest show in the history of the universe. "Yes, okay. Lampkin can interview Six immediately, as long as it's conducted under the same conditions accorded to the chief prosecutor, all right?" Not that we've seen her. The way this trial is progressing, she'll show up somewhere in Season Seven, and we'll meet her three seconds before she becomes a serial murderer for no reason whatsoever. "... Meaning in the interrogation room. Not where you sleep," grumbles Adama. Which, if the best complaint you can offer about your son's tastes in jurisprudence is that it takes place in his bedroom, rethink the fact that you've crowded three ships' worth of civilians into one hangar bay and a newly built saloon. Also: one thing that is unsaid and kind of subtle in this episode is that once Romo mentioned the surveillance thing, it's in place for the rest of the episode (and calls to mind the creepiness of them spying on Gaius and Caprica all the time, even when they're jacking off) and makes Adama and Roslin that much scarier. At the risk of yet more Pynchon: "It can get pretty fascist in here."
Again with the emails. Look. If you think demanding excellence -- of yourself, of your peers, of a television show -- is "overreacting," I imagine that the day-to-day is very easy, if not that impressive or challenging. From where I'm standing, there's no reason not to try. There's never a reason to accept mediocrity. From yourself or from other people. I will never understand that lazy concept, that sometimes things...just suck. Why? Why should anything suck, ever? Why am I insane for asking that question? What's the problem with asking a person, or a show, to perform to its own high standards? If my need for approval didn't get me up in the morning, my morbid fear of failure would do it instead. I don't know any other way to think or live, and if I find you confusing, or if you think I'm accusing you of evil witchcraft or even just settling for piss-poor episodes, that's why: I don't get it, and I don't want to get it. It's not about you, I don't know you. Saying that I hated an episode that you didn't mind isn't an attack on you, it's an attack on quality control. I'm not asking you to be more like me, but I am asking for the space to have an opinion. My opinion is that the show doesn't need to suck. There's not a certain number of shitty episodes that they hand out to each show at the beginning of the year, there's not a quota system for mediocrity. It's not a necessary part of the system, or the equation. Just because some episode of some other show you like also sucked is still no reason for that episode, or this episode, to suck. I would so rather you tell me the "Maelstrom" recap tried and failed, which in some respects I would agree, than for you to just shrug and say everybody writes a shitty recap from time to time. Everybody getting better, everybody trying harder, everybody rising, all the time, or else what's the point?