As a lawyer, I work on deciphering the anthropological basis of rules, the reason of their existence and their purpose. People make rules for every possible reasons: to avoid an unplanned event in a contract, to prevent their person or their property to be reached by an external threat. Basically, rules are created to manage 1) things that can thinkably happen and 2) which raise a sufficient concern. Otherwise, nobody waste his time on thinking rules.
But as a Man, I also care about “gender rules” i.e rules imposed on a gender basis. Ask any woman what unspoken law may rule her relationship with another woman, she’ll answer “none!”, and for once she’s right! If you analyse how females behave with each other, you’ll notice that no obvious norm bind their behavior. The entire society, by not creating rules on that matter, does not seem to see inter-female potential relationships as a concern, or maybe it simply doesn’t care (but shush!)
On the other hand, culture – through thousand of years of literature, movies, tv shows, scene play – attaches great importance on male/female relationships and promotes them by hammering the conscience of every little boy and girl since their early age. I ironically call them “transgender relationships” :P
But when it comes to male relationships, the equivalent of 100,000 legal codes are literally dropped on any man’s head. Both the lawyer and the Man in me struggle to understand the ground of those rules. Did you know that it’s considered as awkward to physically express his friendship though hugs? Is it obvious to you that two men have to keep a certain emotional and physical distance no matter what? And so on!
I’ve studied contractual, tort, international, administrative and much-worse-kind-of law in my student life and I can assure you that nothing is more heavily regulated than male relationships, with an accuracy that even the worst marxist can’t imagine toward business law. I mean it.
How many times I felt blue when I’m innerly told not to tell a male friend how much I care about him. So now you have an idea of what the lawyer and the Man may struggle about in my mind.
In the current world, the notion of close male friendship has been replaced with the blurry idea of “brohood”. For the record, nature has always put a priority on male relationships rather than male/female ones, the survival of the human race is founded on the ability for men to bind with each other, both physically and morally. “Bros before hoes” has therefore an evolutionary meaning. But 2000 years of heteroworshiping wiped that precious rule out of male-bonding.
No matter what, the concept of male friendship is written in men’s genes, it even shapes their sexual life!
Those artificial unspoken rules are now codified thanks to the famous tv show “How I Met Your Mother” into the Bro Code I mercilessly read with the eyes of a lynx of the law!
Much more than a derivative product, the Bro Code is a valid analysis of modern male relationships and every guy would confirm he already endorses its content in his own life. I noticed the Bro Code is in itself an attempt to balance a constant struggle in men between their desire to engage in intercourse with females and their [evolutionary] need to hang out with their male peers.
Please read it carefully and you’ll notice that every single articles are in fact exceptions to the rule “bros before hoes” and try to establish a significant distance between men.
For instance, you’ll may be happy to know that ‘a bro never sends greetings card to another bro’ (art.8) and that he has ‘to drop whatever he’s doing to help his bro to hump a chick’ (art.10).
The entire culture is nowadays based and those unspoken – and non-agreed – rules. Distance between men and priority on female-obsession is widely promoted thoughout tv shows and movies:
No matter the reason why culture is currently focused on that social pattern, it’s important to remember that a rule is always a double-edged sword: it prevents a potentially dangerous situation on one hand but can create a worse harm on the other one in the same time. Most men are not aware they actually inhibit a genetical inclination towards their peers. Meanwhile women are not to refrain any evolutionary behavior. The inability to explain the root of one’s self-loathing is the natural reason of self-destruction. That may partly explain why the suicide rate is four times higher in men than in women.
The situation is much more serious than it appears. And you know what? Nobody cares…
Nature always chooses the easiest and shortest path to achieve its purpose. This is how it’s supposed to be:
As a huge supporter of his work, the death of Steve has deeply affected me. But as an objectivist, I think his death is a much more serious loss than it seems to be: a tragic loss for capitalism, for the only system which took million – and much more – people out of poverty to prosperity and wealth.
Nowadays, everyone benefit from the accomplishments of Steve Jobs and the accomplishments of many other engineers, entrepreneurs, industrialists. The entire market has always been following the way designed by Steve Jobs and the only opinion he has ever considered as valuable was the one of his clients and business partners. I’m not the only one thinking that Steve Jobs was also a randian hero who could have appeared in the Fountainhead or Atlas Shrugged.
I took a passage from the John Galt’s monologue in Atlas Shrugged and adapted it to Steve Jobs, this is what John Galt would have said about him:
The machine, the frozen form of a living intelligence, is the power that expands the potential of your life by raising the productivity of your time. If you worked as a scientist, a writer, an architect, a lawyer and so on in the mystics’ Middle Ages, the whole of your earning capacity would consist of a work produced by your hands in days and days of effort. How many calculations do you proceed, how many words can you type, how many blueprint can you design, how many precedents can you find per day if you work with a computer? Would you dare claim that the size of your pay check was created solely by your physical labor and that those achievements were the product of your muscles? The standard of living of the Middle Ages’ scientist, writer, architect or lawyer is all that your muscles are worth; the rest is a gift from Steve Jobs.
Whenever you rebel against causality, your motive is the fraudulent desire, not to escape it, but worse: to reverse it. You want unearned love, as if love, the effect, could give you personal value, the cause – you want unearned admiration, as if admiration, the effect, could give you virtue, the cause – you want unearned wealth, as if wealth, the effect, could give you ability, the cause – you plead for mercy, mercy, not justice, as if unearned forgiveness could wipe out the cause of your plea And to indulge your ugly little shams, you support the doctrines of your teachers. while they run hog-wild proclaiming that spending, the effect, creates riches, the cause, that machinery, the effect, creates intelligence, the cause, that your sexual desires, the effect, creates your philosophical values, the cause.
I wake up in the morning, opening my eyes to the sight of a pale, half-rainy half-sunny sky whose diffused light is reflected on the white walls of the room. The peace of the Breton morning reminds me the Wales of my ancestors, its smooth clouds motherly lulling the nine provinces of the four thousands years-old Brittany, its sharp cliffs proudly facing the ocean.
Later during the daytime, I while away the low tide between bare rocks, picturing some giant fantasy landscapes, endlessly. Once exhausted by sea air, finding out the dusk coming, I go meeting up with some friends of mine, at the pub. Nothing’s better than warmly clinking a pint with bretons.
The day after, travelling back to my beloved Savoy, the hills becoming strung out under my sight, I know I will spend the next months remembering them, the friends, the sea, the battlements of Saint-Malo and the docklands of Noaned. Those moments impossible to describe. Those wonders, yet unforgettable.
To dust I shall return, its soul will remain in its core ground, still. My Brittany.
As a sci-fi literate, I’ve been led to follow various kinds of TV show with the “star” word in the title, being totally aware of their eventual defects in the same time. For instance I’m a huge fan of StarGate but I still don’t happen to understand why the entire universe is speaking english, except on Earth which seems to be the only place where several languages are spoken – meanwhile, StarTrek made a very good job on that topic –.
Like a lot of my peers, I saw the pilot episode of BSG in 2004 and actually found it pretty convincing, such as the 10 episodes which came afterwards. But rapidly, some details started bothering me, and ended up making me drop down the show.
Here some of the most pricking details:
- Ludicrous sadness
The first episode begins with a holocaust decimating almost the entire human population on twelve planets – that’s the original plot - . The survivors are mainly humans who were in space during the attack. However, only a small number of ships are equipped with faster-than-light technology and they are forced to let the other behind.
But that scene, like most of the sad scene of the show, involving all the clichés you can ever imagine: the poor little girl who remains stuck on one of the ships, the victimizing radio calls from the other ships, the annoying exaggerated heart-rending soundtrack put here by scenarists thinking they can artificially enhance the general impression of the viewers just with musics. All those details pooled together taste like a ludicrous scene filled with nothing. Despite their presence throughout the seasons, the demonstrations of ridiculous sadness don’t happen to fill a scenario as empty as space vacuum.
- Waste of good ideas
Yep, BSG does have some actual interesting features. First of all, the religious dissension between polytheistic humans and monotheistic cylons is very fascinating. However the issue is almost entirely left aside or confusingly tackled during show. What was a catching mystery turns into an unanswered annoying anthem in the latest seasons. More than the religious fanatism of the cylons, the background of BattleStar Galactica is full of cultural references to our civilization: Starbuck driving a Hummer on Caprica, the roman letters etc…
Too bad that potential remains unexploited.
- Irrelevant and heavily aggressive love stories
This is probably the most unbearable point of the show: BSG involves about ten couples for only 4 seasons! Half of the females gets knocked up, whether they are human or cylon. Sometimes, the plot is entirely focused on the love stories, sequences switching from an affair to another, turning the show into a bad sci-fi spin-off of Melrose Place. Consequently, the male characters looks like weak faggots constantly centred around their feelings and heart issues, making them the ultimate shame of manhood in the history of science-fiction. Characters are nothing more than fuck bunnies – which is understandable if they have to repopulate their new colonies, I admit it :P – .
Let’s play! One of those pictures derives from BattleStar Galactica, the others have been taken during a gay pride parade. Can you guess which one it is? (Here’s a clue, it shows the entire cast)
The manliest character of the show – and probably what barely saves BSG – is Starbuck: she’s the only reason I watched it. Combative, strong, brave, just, rational, she’s a real badass and actually makes up for all the male characters.
Finally, I really find that show incredibly empty and disappointing. But I’m willing to admit that Starbuck kicks fraking ass!
Surprisingly, the show became really successful and the spin-off, Caprica, – which deepens what was not enough approached in BSG – didn’t reach the same popularity. It’s really too bad because Caprica, despite some overlong passages, displayed a far more interesting side of the franchise.
Comparatively, it’s true that BSG is better directed than StarTrek the original series and StarGate, the cast fulfills the roles (despite the annoying sissiness of the fellows) and doesn’t have the cheap look of Andromeda and FarScape. But those sci-fi shows succeeded thanks to a great sense of humor and self-derision, what BSG missed the most according to me: too serious and too hoity-toity.
So that’s the question: What can possibly explain the incomprehensible success of BattleStar Galactica meanwhile FireFly – btw the best sci-fi show EVER - has not reached more than 14 episodes? For Gods’ Sake why does a bunch of baby-making fags have more viewers than an ass-kicking awesome space western!?
Conclusion: To say BattleStar Galactica is the worst sci-fi show ever may be overreacted: I haven’t seen all the shows available on the market. But it obviously acts as a space soap opera, an unfunny sci-fi version of Sex and City where the characters literally hang out at complaining and crying for terribly commonplace problems worthy of the Jerry Springer show: “I knocked up my chick but she’s a cylon”, “I’m in love with a software implanted in my brain” or “I prefer being a faggot rather than measuring up to my buddies”.
BattleStar Galactica is definitely gay and can be summed up as follows: hoes before bros. Period.
EDIT: just a thought, I’m not ecologist but if the vacuum energy was confirmed, the scenario of BSG could at least work as a power plant to supply the entire planet!
To a statist, all resources belong to the state. The government doesn’t tax 40 percent of your earnings; it magnanimously spends the other 60 percent on you— Michael F. Cannon