Boop. Boop… Those heavy, imposing bass beats that 24 fans the world over have been waiting for… for almost 2 years! Somehow Kiefer’s managed to pull out yet another season of 24 — we’re at season 7 now (and he’s aged remarkably well!), and CTU has finally been shut down (something about torturing people and operating a bit outside the law.

The season started with Jack facing down a tribunal of Senators, explaining that while it’s not pleasant, torturing Muhammed bin Patel-Assad, someone has to do it. For the security of the people. Later on in the episode, there’s a fantastic scene with the President and the joint chiefs of the US military. ‘We just need to swagger in there, spray some bullets around the place, and the oppressed, war-torn people of the Fictitious African Nation will welcome us with open arms,” one of the chiefs says. Well, not quite, but he implies the same sentiment with that cocky, derisive sneer, as he tells the President that they expect no meaningful resistance.

Anyway, Tony’s back (£10 on Nina returning from beyond the veil before the end of the season…) The jury’s still out on whether he’s actually a baddie, but I’m sure we’ll be treated to lots of ‘Is he or isn’t he?!’ moments, especially at the end of each episode.

More importantly, my friend (yes, an actual bonafide friend) Dave has finally surfaced. He disappeared back in September, only to re-emerge yesterday. Turns out he was locked in some room, in Boston (he lives in Ireland), forced to code some software. A bit like that scene in Swordfish:

He was adamant that he couldn’t get in touch, so I just had to fear that he was dead for a few months. I had no one to watch Kristen Bell in Heroes with! (She is incidentally the cutest, most… arrrgh, delectable girl woman on the planet. The fact that she looks just like my ex has NOTHING to do with it)

He’s back JUST in time for 24 and the end of Battlestar Galactica (it’s going to be tough recovering from how they left it…) so he’s forgiven… just.

As I said in the previous entry, we had power cuts for about 2 1/2 hours this afternoon, so I was forced to light candles, eat whatever I randomly pulled out of the fridge, and take some self-indulgent self portraits. For anyone wondering, that’s what I looked like when I was roleplaying Jack (the cowboy).

First of all, any post that in any way references Heroes automatically deserves a mention of Kristen Bell, and a link to a hot picture (notice how I don’t plaster your screen with pictures of her hot, pliable, pale flesh… I have mastered the art of self-control, obviously…)

With that out of the way (and it’s hard to push Kristen to one side, I assure you, but I’ll do my best, for the 10 or 15 minutes it takes to write this), in case the Gods really are smiling down on me, and someone from the cast of Heroes happens to read this blog, I should probably mention that Hayden Panettiere is also very beautiful. I would turn neither of these fine blonde beauties down, given the opportunity. Everyone deserves a chance, after all. Save Seb’s libido, save the world, remember?

Anyway, I had my hair cut today. My sister’s a hairdresser for some snobby salon called ‘Rush‘, so I get funky and ‘modern’ hair cuts at a fraction of the price that other mere mortals might pay. It was only later, as I was looking through some photos of my new hair, that I looked remarkably like Sylar. Similar shape of face, fairly large eyebrows, and the same air of evil omnipotent malevolence (it’s true,  I’m evil). You wouldn’t leave me in the same room as your teenage, blonde daughter, would you?

Well, maybe if she’d misbehaved a little…

Recently Heroes has received a lot of bad press (although not as bad as Season 2, but we can blame the WGA writers’ strike for that!), with total viewing figures still way down on Season 1 (and losing out to some truly atrocious American programming). I thought the episodes we had before Christmas were fantastic! Hopefully the end of season 3 (volume 4) will continue the upwards curve of excitement and mystery that Heroes really thrives upon. And stay away from the time travel please — don’t writers understand that time-travel paradoxes drive intelligent people utterly nuts? “But he could go back in time again to fix it…!” that wouldn’t make for a great story though — Hiro only goes back in time when it best befits the burgeoning paradoxical plot.

The thing is, it’s still far greater than any other supernatural drama on TV (but BSG is starting again on Friday…) I guess after such an awesome first season it was only natural that people would grow a little tired after a poor second season and not tune into season 3. I guess season 4 will make or break the show, as long as we’re treated to an awesome finale to season 3!

I think people forget that downloadable TV episodes (and on-demand via a variety of services) bite into viewing shares significantly. I know of one TV distribution group that can shift over 500,000 copies of popular TV shows on a weekly basis (Lost, House, Heroes, etc.) Not all of these downloaders are from the USA, but some certainly are (most are Europeans that don’t want to wait for their local TV stations to syndicate the shows).

Anyway, while I’m on this fairly-geeky streak, I’m going to slip in one link on flying… cars! Yes, flying cars. No, they haven’t been injected with some kind of ‘Hero serum’ — they’re just flying cars. Slightly impractical? Maybe. Awesome? Hell yeah!

I’ll leave you with a picture of me, posing with two of my cute female friends.

(Don’t cancel your subscriptions Republicans, please! It was but a joke! With the inauguration of our new Marxist Overlord, I’ll try to work some more political jokes into my daily diatribe. With a democrat finally back on the throne, the republicans will probably start being all funny and bitter about how awful a leader Obama is…)

To start off with a bang (the men are going to like this one), I give you the stereotypical Democrat after 8 years of Emperor Dubya’s rule of iron. This guy disagrees with Republican zoning laws — in a big way: http://www.metacafe.com/watch/199525/

Okay, so I have no proof that he was actually a Democrat, and the video is probably from years ago, during Clinton’s cook-sacking era. But it’s an AWESOME bulldozer rampage, you have to agree.

I’m going through a bit of a TV- & film-watching phase at the moment. Last night I watched RocknRolla, Guy Ritchie’s latest Glorified English Gangster movie. Are gangsters really like that in any part of the world? At least the ‘non-gangster’ protagonist (the character that will star in the sequel) Johnny Quid was somewhat believable, and really well realised as some kind of highly-intelligent Eton-educated kid that’s unfortunately the step-son of an evil sonofabitch gangster land developer. I don’t want to spoil the plot as it’s a still a recent film (but not so recent that it’s not available for digital download), but needless to say it’s full of ridiculous and hilarious incidents and one really great chase scene, where we get to see Gerard Butler (’Tonight… we dine… in HELL!‘) run away from 2 crazed and nigh-invulnerable Russian heavies. It’s slapstick, it’s way over the top, but there’s something scarily believable about a Terminator-esque Russian heavy. Blonde, blue-eyed, well-toned and trained to dispatch our heroes straight to hell. Stringer Bell (Idris Elba) from The Wire also co-starred — did you know he was actually English?! From Hackney? I thought he was some American doing a mighty fine bit of acting… but no!

And now I’ve just finished watching the beginning of the end for Battlestar Galactica. This is it, the end — they’ve finally finished their ‘will it be this season?’ story arc and found Earth. 10 weeks to wrap up one of the richest ‘not-so-distant future’ sci-fi plots ever devised. I don’t want to spoil this week’s episode, but it sure looks like we’re in for some turned-on-its-head expositions. Perhaps everyone’s a cylon? Who attacked Earth 2000 years ago…? The cylons, or the humans? Or…? (And if you’ve seen it — try to explain Starbuck’s little time-space paradox.)

Seasons 2 and 3 were a bit iffy in places, but that’s something we can forgive, as long as it ends really damn well. Let’s not forget that the first season of BSG was the best thing ever on TV. A bold assertion, I know. Those of you that watch BSG (and you don’t need to be a sci-fi fan to enjoy it — I’m not) will hopefully support my claim. Even if you haven’t a clue what I’m talking about: if you enjoy awesome characterisation (and awesome acting!), some stellar writing and an intriguing mysterious/spiritual plot… go and buy it! Or download it! Go and find the ‘Battlestar Galactica Mini Series’ — if you like it, watch the rest. And then come back to tell me I was right!

(If the idea of enjoying sci-fi is completely foreign to you, check out Rome, which probably comes in at #2 on the Sebby’s List Of Awesome TV)

Now, I need to test this new polling thing, which I need to have working before my Interactive Storytelling kicks off (probably on Tuesday), so I thought I would test it, and get the ball rolling at the same time — I want you to choose where the protagonist of the story is from. Is he (and yes, it’s going to be a boy) a snooty English snob? Is he a ‘bit of rough’, maybe from central/eastern London? Perhaps he’s an Irish pikey gypsy (although you have to remember that you won’t be able to understand me very well if I’m talking Gypsy Irish…), or a broad Scotish kilt-wearing gentleman. I’m probably good enough with accents to do this, but I do reserve the rights to resort to Standard British if it ends up sounding truly awful.

It’s the weekend, and the blogosphere is… occupied.

In the East, bloggers are out partying, far to the West bloggers are whacking their alarms and rolling over, back to sleep. But here, in the middle (and I’m about 500 meters from the West/East Meridian), I’m awake, with nothing to do.

So, I thought I’d write.

Last night I was up until some Godawful hour sorting through some old photos. Most of them were already on my old photography site, but much like writing, when you look at photos again, with fresh eyes, you suddenly find a bunch of things wrong with each photo; and likewise, I found photos that I didn’t like at the time, but I do now, like this one from Las Vegas:

I found a lovely self-portrait which I took during a blue moon 5 years ago (and an accompanying series of moon-lit photos). I also started to populate the Essex and USA collections — they’re not complete, but I’ll try to keep filling them up. The Essex page has lots of nice live music photography — no major bands, but still some nice photos of charismatic singers and guitarists. The USA collection, I’ve discovered, isn’t great and it’s rather small. I’m missing a bunch of photos from my first trip though (the one with The Cheerleader), and on the later trips I spent a lot of time socialising rather than seeing the sights. There’s some of the Grand Canyon and Yosemite though! And some lovely ones taken from Seattle’s coast.

I’ve also added some more to the Sussex gallery — some nice at-dawn photos — and the People gallery with some lovely ones of my cousins who are disgustingly photogenic. They make me look like something the dog dragged in, bastards.

I also stumbled across a lot of photos from my long-term relationship at university which sent hopping and skipping along memory lane. Very vivid photos. Grabbing… and kissing… and… things. I tried to stop myself from lingering, but I kept sliding the CD back in and staring… and tilting my head and staring some more. My poor ex; her ears must’ve been burning last night.

(I didn’t upload any of those, sorry!)

That’s all, for now. Now if only my BSG-watching buddy would turn up, so I could get stuck into watching the PENULTIMATE EPISODE. It better be damn good. And Dollhouse episode 6 is almost here! Only 1 more week until it gets good!

Just two hours ago my friend Dave and I found ourselves wondering if Ron Moore could actually do it. After the jaw-droppingly good mini series, and the stupendously awesome first season, the last few years had seen Ron Moore… slip a little. We were propelled through seasons 2 and 3, lifted up upon the fluttering wings of promise; the promise that we’d see more epic story arcs like those in the mini series and season 1. It wasn’t to be. Truth be told, we all thought Ron had run out of steam. But then, with season 4, and the news that it was the last season, things got a little better. We knew that they would finally stop gallivanting across the universe in search of Earth. We might finally get a little resolution on the multitude of plots that he’d begun, but not come close to finishing.

Then that damn USA Writers Guild strike hit us! After 3 years of building a beautiful myth and spinning a legendary yarn, Ron said ‘Frack it, let’s just send them some Cylon ship that’ll take them to Earth.’ Quick, and totally brute-force. I don’t know if I should blame the WGA, or Ron Moore for that clumsy, shoe-horned plot device.

Anyway, there we were on Earth. Woop. 3 years down the drain. Earth was post-apocalyptic. What an anti-climax.

What followed were 6 cold, miserable, Adama-less months (caused by that damn writer’s strike); 6 months spent wondering if there could be any possible resolution. Could there be any chance of redemption, and an apt wrapping-up of the outstanding mysteries? Would we find out what happened in the Opera House? Is Starbuck a Cylon, or a Cylon child? What on earth has Baltar been doing for the past 3 seasons? Is Bob Dylan actually God, or should Tigh just grow a longer beard?

Those were just a few of the questions going through our minds as we turned up the volume, pressed play, sat back and had a moment of quiet contemplation and prayer.

‘I bet Ron Moore said to himself as he wrote this last episode: Don’t frack it up Ron, just 2 hours to go… don’t frack it up.’

Those were the fateful words spoken by Dave as we watched the ‘previously…’ sequence.

2 hours later, I blinked, cogitating, churning over what I’d just experienced. All doubts were dispelled: Ron Moore had sharpened his pencil, poured a fresh mug of coffee and scribed a monster of a script. In fact, I think after that little golden nugget, Ron probably put his pencil down and punched the air triumphantly, a broad grin on his face: ‘I did it, I frackin’ did it!’

2 hours later, I’m sitting here, still slightly awed by the finale of Battlestar Galactica. It was — possibly — better than the mini series. We were promised some kind of character-driven finale, and that’s certainly what we got! That’s not to say we didn’t get some action though; we probably got the finest action sequence I’ve seen in BSG.

From the moment Adama picks up that handset and delivers yet another one of his charismatic, through-the-fire-and-flames speeches, we were chained to an adrenaline-fueled roller coaster. I don’t think I stopped to catch more than a paper-thin breath until Kara Thrace stumbles around the CIC, blood everywhere, tubing dangling, fires breaking out everywhere, and tries to jump them to safety…

… anyway, I don’t want to give away too much, for those of you that haven’t seen it yet!

I’ll just stick to spoiling it with some screen captures!

For those of you that have seen it: I think you’ll agree that the Opera House plot was beautifully resolved. I was already on the edge of my chair from the violent, visceral, end-of-humanity-as-we-know-it action, and THEN they threw in the Baltar/Six Sharon/Roslin sequence. The Opera House scene, beautifully mirrored and montaged onto the final, dying throes of the Battlestar Galactica — and then, rather than the doors shutting us out, like they did so many years ago, we were offered a glimpse of salvation — we were offered a resolution. Thank God, er, Ron, er… Dylan! A resolution!

It’s safe to say that Ron Moore has successfully tied up the best sci-fi space-opera ever made. Every question has been answered, and storyline concluded. Well, except for just a tiny stickling point with Starbuck… but I guess we’ll have to live with that one. Ron’s allowed a bit of creative wibble, I guess; damn you, Ron, damn you. Maybe that one will be answered in a post-season mini-series, or that Caprica spin-off that has been rumoured.

Considering it is a space opera, I should probably save a few words for the people that actually executed Ron Moore’s script so deftly and turned it into a show: the characters; the cast! Despite some rather poor scripting and plot development in parts, the acting has certainly never been a weakness of BSG, and it definitely went from strength to strength in season 1, while the plot was still airtight and super-strong. It was their acting and characterisation that brought us the depth and understanding that we so desperately craved; with such a complex web of character interactions, nothing less would do!

But really, when it gets right down to it, the other actors were nothing compared to the power and on-screen presence of the ‘three wise men’ — Adama, Tigh and Doc Cottle. Tigh’s hoarse, derisive chuckle. Adama’s haunting, rousing and reverberating pre-battle speeches. Cottle’s cigarette smoking. All three will be the memories that first pop into my mind when I think of what a great show Battlestar Galactica has been over the past 4 years.

Following on from the rampant, run-away success of last week’s column, I now bring you three more fresh and exciting problems for me to sink my teeth into. Only this week there’s a twist — I’ve invited the eccentric Mr. Apron to also offer his… alternative… point of view on the questions I’ve been sent this week. There’s a chance he’ll get his own column here on this blog, but let’s see how this goes first…

Dearest Sebby,

Can I ever compare to Katee Sackhoff? She’s so hot. Maybe I should just give up and hand my boyfriend over to her now. Of course I probably make better cakes than her, but I think he’d probably still be happier with her.

Please lavish me with your opinions o’ great geek,
Apollo’s Dad Is Sexier

Seb

Well the good news is that Katee — Starbuck from Battlestar Galactica — isn’t conventionally beautiful. There’s certainly something about her though — that rough, craggy exterior that only occasionally breaks open to reveal a soft, supple interior; much like an armadillo, really. By the end of the final season of BSG she also has an attractive element of mystery — what is she?! — something, let’s face it, you can probably never compete with.

My tip to you, like most style gurus, is to accentuate on your strong traits. If your hair is ruddy blonde — bleach it! Heck, even if it’s not, bleach it anyway! If there’s something about you that your boyfriend really likes, work it! If he likes the dirty, greasy, raw look — who are you to deny him that pleasure? If all else fails: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Smother him in baked goods, spread yourself eagled on the bed, covered in nothing but crumbled pieces of meringue and Chantilly cream.

For further advice, please send me a large slab of chocolate brownie.

Apron

Dear Katee Wannabee,

I must not watch enough television– I had no idea who this bitch was.  I had to Google Images her and was disappointed to see that, even with the SafeSearch filter turned off, there were no money shots anywhere.  I disagree with Sebastian on the matter of her beauty, intrinsic or otherwise.  Am I the only one who’s noticed that her left eye is all weird?

Then again, Wannabee, I guess your boyfriend isn’t spending too much time staring at her left eye.

Can you ever compete with her?  No.  Can you bash her in the leg with a lead pipe?  Well, it worked for Tonya Harding, but I wouldn’t recommend it.  Look, seriously, all you can do is put out more.  Five, six times a day if you have to.  Sure, your boyfriend will be thinking about Katee Sackhoff each and every time, but at least you’ll be keeping him busy and off Google Image with the SafeSearch filter off.

I disagree with Seb also, (sorry, mate) that you should alter your appearance by bleaching your hair to satisfy your schmuck boyfriend but, if you do decide to do that, I think you should then shave it all off and mail it to Katee Sackhoff.  That’ll teach her to be sexy.

Feel free to mail me brownies or whatever, too.

Dear Dr Sebby!!!

How the hell do I get an audio player to work on my blog? I think it involves converting MP4 files (like I know what that is) to MP3 (which sounds slightly familiar).

Or I need to know the “location” to something? Basically I want to play 99 red balloons on my blog and I don’t know how!!!

HELP ME NOW PLEASE!!
- Distressed Blogger

[I stripped out lots of punctuation, but I felt the three exclamations and ALL CAPS had to be left in -S]

Seb

I assume you mean the, um, German classic by Nena? I’m not sure how I feel about helping you spread German propaganda, and I’m sure my counterpart Apron will have something to say about that too. Fortunately, I will see past any prejudices I might have and fulfil my Hippocratic oath.

• It sounds like you need to start by converting the MP4s to MP3 by using a program. There’s a guide on how to use it, but it looks fairly self-explanatory: drag music in, click convert, enjoy your new MP3s.
• Next, you need to upload them to the Internet. This is slightly trickier. Start by registering at DivShare and then following the prompts to upload your MP3 files. When you’re done, you should have a link across the top of your browser window — you can either use this direct link in your MP3 player of choice, or click the link, then ‘Embed/Sharing Options’, and use their MP3 player (it’s up to you).
• If you decide to use your own MP3 player (which it sounds like you already have set up?), you then place the above link (http://www.divshare.com/download/something-123.mp3) into the embed code, and voila!

(If you have no idea what ‘embed code’ I speak of, there’s a great YouTube video that’ll walk you through the entire process, if you can put up with some kind of hideous English/Indian/Chav/Something?? accent.)

Apron

Dear Distressed,

I’m so sorry to hear that you’re having issues with playing music on your blog.  What a serious bummer.

Here’s a thought: instead of trying to snazz your blog up with music to distract your visitors’ attention from the fact that you have no meaningful content, why don’t you try to focus all the energy you’ve exhausted trying to figure out how to set up an MP3 player on your blog and put some of that effort into the actual writing?!

Now there’s a novel idea, isn’t it?  A blog with words.  That people read.  If people want to hear music, they’ll open Pandora [We can't use this in Europe any more, very sad -S] in a different window and listen to music while they read your blog.  If you want to share the music you love so much with the rest of the world, make us mix tapes, you hopeless romantic, you.

Your blog is also probably rife with exciting graphics and YouTube clips and pictures of cats wearing stupid hats saying “I Can Has Cheezburger?” isn’t it?

Jesus Christ.

Monsieur Seb,

I have a bit of a tricky one for you, one that I think might not have a right answer, but I’ll give your ‘Ask Me Anything’ a shot!

I’m in love with my brother’s girlfriend, or at least I think it is love. She’s 3 years older than me, but that hasn’t changed matters. I don’t think my brother knows, but he must be at least somewhat suspicious. I guess he just trusts us enough that he hasn’t entertained the thought of his girlfriend and me flirting.

But yeah, the problem is: she also likes me. We kissed last week, in the living room! Stupid, I know, and my brother came in after we’d finished. We both had the most telling, embarrassed faces. I don’t know how long we can keep it up. Should we elope to Vegas? Haha. His girlfriend has told me she really likes me, but she’s not sure who she likes more… Aaaargh!

Help me, Sir Seb!
In Love And Confused, USA

Seb

There’s definitely no easy solution to this one, sorry. It happens to us all: we fall for the forbidden fruit, the fruit that’s all the more ripe and tasty because someone else has already picked it. It’s like someone has already certified the fruit ‘highly tasty’ and you just gotta have a bite. It’s more commonly seen amongst adults as the ‘wedding ring’ syndrome — married men especially get chased a lot by women seeking a nice man!

Your situation is all the more complicated because it sounds like you’re still living at home, so your brother’s girlfriend is always about the place — no doubt you’ve caught her in pyjamas or other revealing clothing too…?

But to the resolution: first, you should try and forget all about her. Your brother got there first and she says she likes him. That’s the obvious solution. Without knowing the details of your brother’s relationship, it’s hard to say whether you should chase or let go of the girl — if she’s not happy with your brother, or your brother mistreats her… perhaps it’s worth chasing? You’re both young, and if you really love her, go for it! Unless this girl is the love of his life, of course, in which case, forget it.

No matter which route you take, you will have to talk to your brother sooner or later — preferably before he actually catches you doing something dishonourable, so you should probably start with that!

Apron

Dear In Love (Though Probably Not),

I’d love to know how old you are.  From the tone of your letter, I’m guessing you’re fourteen.  Son, you have to be old enough to drive before you can “elope to Vegas” and then you have to be old enough to get married.  As far as I know, the only people in America who can get married at 14 are the Amish, and they have enough problems.

Sebastian, I can’t believe you’re advising this kid to talk to his brother about this– what’s wrong with you? [Sorry, call it my 'inner belief in all things good and proper'... -S] First of all, Americans don’t “talk” to each other, about anything.  They text each other.  Second of all, this kid’s older brother is probably some square-jawed, Neanderthal, knuckle-dragging high school senior who will bury his hockey stick inside this kid’s head at the mere mention that he’s got the hots for his girlfriend.

I’ll bet she is pretty fucking hot, though, isn’t she?  Tank-tops, little shorts all rolled up at the waist, too, I’ll bet.  Mmmmm…

Which brings me quite neatly to the solution to your little problem: it’s this crazy new thing all the teens are doing these days.  It’s called: masturbation.  See, friend, you don’t have to fuck every chick you think is attractive, especially the one who happens to be attached to your brother’s midsection.  You think she’s hot?  Great.  Jerk off while thinking about her.

Problem solved.

P.S. Don’t you love how Sebastian and his fellow Brits write “dishonourable” and “pyjamas?”  Cute!

Week 3 of Dollhouse season 2 and… jackpot!

I don’t know if it was the fact that Eliza Dushku was prancing around like some 18 year old university freshman, flouncing and giggling and and and… *takes a breath* Or maybe it was the deliciously creepy sociopath and his great pre-intro sequence.

But still no sign of Dr Saunders. I did a quick Google search and turned up nothing. Is Amy Acker pregnant or something? I can see she’s in another show this season too…

There’s probably a few spoilers in today’s set of screen-captures, but it won’t give away too much.

See if you can spot this episode’s ‘BSG alumnus of the week’. Still no sign of Summer Glau however…

Note: As always, you can click the images for a much bigger version. Hooray for High-Definition TV! My (hilarious) commentary can be found by hovering your mouse over each image.