I’m about halfway through season five of Stargate SG-1, and, I swear to God, I’m sick of it.
In every episode – every single one – something goes wrong. I’m not kidding. They never just sit down and talk about their feelings or eat biscuits. It’s always, always, always “Save the world” this and “Save the world” that. For once, I’d like to see the team go out to a movie, or go bowling, or crochet, or do crossword puzzles.
Even in episodes where everybody’s supposedly on vacation, something goes wrong. Colonel Jack O’Neill will be out at his fishing shack in Minnesota, and suddenly some new tribe of goofy aliens decides to invade.
Well, isn’t that convenient. Right in the middle of the vacation episode. The aliens couldn’t just stay on their stupid homeworlds another day longer. They’re constantly beating down Earth’s door to capture our… well, whatever it is. I can’t even figure out what the aliens would want with us. Of all the planets in the galaxy, why the aliens always want to invade Earth and have to deal with the six billion whining bipedal monkey-things is a mystery that Stargate SG-1 has yet to solve for me.
It’s always something. Brain-controlling reptiles, upright reptiles controlled by brain-controlling reptiles, advanced human-like aliens who hoard technology – it’s like something always has to be happening on this show. It can’t sit still for five god damned minutes.
The worst is when the god damned hippy tree people show up:
Oh, let's all wear our tree-jammies and save the world with peace. Ohhhh... Giggle, giggle… [nature-whisper, nature-whisper]…
These things are called The Nox, and they’re called that because they’re obNOXious (get it? (it’s a pun (laugh, motherf***er))).
When they came on the scene, I initially thought, “Oh, good. Hippies. Now they’re just going to smoke dope and eat non-GMO gluten-free cereal. This will be a nice, relaxing episode.”
But was it?
Oh, nooooooooooooooooo… Even the hippies fought, and not only that, but they fought with this nauseating passive let’s-love-our-enemies-to-death strategy. By the time they’re done handing out heart-shaped ass whoopings, you’re ready to strangle yourself with your own dreadlocks.
I need something different. A show where nothing happens.
If there’s nothing out there, then I’ll just make one myself. It couldn’t be that hard to capture thirty commercial-free minutes of nothing.
I’ll start with a show about my teapot. It’ll just sit there and teapot at you. For thirty minutes. And then the credits will roll. That’ll be the most exciting part. It’ll say “Starring Teapot as Teapot.”
That’s all.
No aliens. No weird zappy weapons. No mind-control.
Just teapot.
And certainly no god damned hippy tree people doling out lessons in understanding and tolerance.
Just.
Tea.
Pot.
Teapot.