So Sci Fi or Sy Fy or whatever it’s called these days held a New York screening the other night of the highly-anticipated finale of Battlestar Galactica, one of the best shows on TV in recent years. A lucky few from B&C were there, and here is a shameless plug for video interviews they did with show creator Ronald Moore.
But for those of us out here in Los Angeles – you know, kind of an epicenter of television – we were basically told to Frak Off and watch it with the rest of the schleppers when it airs this Friday night.
Apparently there is some sort of screening Friday, but I was told it was private. A check with a couple of other lowly trade hacks like myself revealed that at least everyone didn’t get invited but me (a common occurrence in high school).
Plus by Friday, I’d just as soon sit down on the sunken outline of my rear end that is permanently implanted into my couch, grab that iced cold Zima, and watch the revelation of what Starbuck really is — all by myself. You know, as science fiction is meant to be watched.
So for a show that is all about equality between humans and toasters, I am morally outraged at Sci Fi’s sheer discrimination towards the great city of Los Angeles and the BSG fans out here that infiltrate the TV industry like cylons.
I’m never watching that show again after Friday.