Ms. Smarty Pants Know It All

I suffer from “Post-Traumatic X-Files Syndrome,” and I do mean that non-seriously. It’s more of a way to reference how a cultural event or experience can influence one’s life, no matter how much the rest of the world may want to belittle it.*

Once upon a time, I was so invested in this TV show. It promised that there was some “Truth” that Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz (and I’m perfectly comfortable placing the responsibility on these two guys’ shoulders) assured us was “out there.”

Then, after following them for years and years, we loyal Philes figured out that they were just making things up as they went along. Granted, I knew this after the Fight the Future movie of post-season 5 and still kept watching for four more seasons, and that’s on me . . . But CC & Frank never let up on their BS assurances. In the end, they were wrong and liars and it was a big pile of steaming garbage.

This experience so affected a younger TV-watching me that I have never been able to commit to a live first-run dramatic series since. Until Battlestar Galactica. But now, after the first two episodes of the final season, I’m concerned. How are they going to explain everything satisfactorily? I have this fear in my gut that a careless ending is going to taint this unbelievably awesome show for me. And for this, I still blame Chris Carter.

I will go see the second movie though. There’s no sense in fighting that future.

* In this case, it was my first vivid outrage that someone I had trusted and in whom I believed could lie (IMHO) so blatantly when all the evidence, happening right in front our faces, told of another reality.

Tags: TV //