It's Battlestar day!

Because BSG is on again tonight, I'm thinking seriously about how they're never going to resolve any of their plot lines satisfactorily. But I'm still trying to work out how they might, which is endlessly frustrating. Fun! I need the relief, honestly. Last week was decent enough to make me hopeful, and this entire week has been one of disappointing Netflix rentals so I've had nothing else to distract me. (F-list, feel free to remove Martin, Kurt Cobain: About a Son, and Sharkwater from your queues on my recommendation. You'll thank me for saving you several wasted rentals.)

I did finally watch Hello, Dolly last night. It's a confusing story at times because Barbara Streisand swallows a lot of her dialogue. She and Walter Matthau also have negative chemistry, which makes sense since apparently they hated each other. If you, like me, added that one to your queue because of Wall-E, I'd say you can probably skip it and not miss much. YouTube the dancing sequence for "Put on Your Sunday Clothes," and look at some pictures of Babs in her awesome gowns (and equally amazing hats), and you achieve the same effect in under half an hour (instead of over two).

But back to BSG: this article pretty much articulates all the things I have ever thought about this show's problematic representations of women. (Spoilers for recent episodes, so beware.) ( Don't worry, this is hardly about feminism at all. )