Episode Report Card Jacob Clifton: A+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT What Kind Of Father
By Jacob Clifton | Season 4 | Episode 12 | Aired on 01.23.2009
"In prison, you start to confuse your hopes and dreams with reality. You start to believe that because you want something to happen -- parole, a pardon, appeal, a writ -- you start to believe that it will happen. You live on wishes. The way things should be, instead of the way they are. And all because you can't face reality. The leaders of this Fleet are succumbing to wishful thinking because they can't face reality. And the reality is that the Roslin/Adama administration... Has led us nowhere. Earth was a mirage, a fantasy they dangled in front of us for four long years in order to maintain power. A fantasy they dreamed up as a way to hold on and control the government over the democratic wishes of the population. So now what is our feckless and dispirited leadership doing to solidify their position, after failing us so miserably? Turning to the Cylons -- the Cylons -- for help. Aren't the Cylons the reason we're out here in the first place? Aren't they the enemy? Or are they suddenly our friends, if that helps keep Roslin/Adama in power?"
He's already won, but Lee prissily reminds him that this is a motion, not a filibuster, and Tom's like, "Fine. The chair moves that any decision on allowing Cylons to board any ship in this Fleet be made by the Captain and the people living on that ship, and not the Roslin/Adama administration." Lee pleads for unity, to stand together, which just makes it worse, because as far as Tom and the Quorum are concerned, that's exactly what they're doing. I can't blame them for that either. They know more than the Fleet and the press, but not by much, and he only said true stuff. There was hardly any rhetoric in there at all, beyond some italics and a little bit of "Roslin/Adama Eat Babies" voodoo, but for Zarek who is naturally creepy, it was a demonstration of mighty restraint. Jacob Cantrell calls the question, Tauron seconds, and it passes 11 to 1. Lee runs away, the little man who stands against the mountains, and the delegates crowd toward the gavel, kissing his ass and shaking his hand. Lee meets his eyes across the room, and they both realize this simple thing is the thing that's going to change everything. Again.
Somebody runs unsteadily down Galactica's corridor; Adama dozes at his desk with a half-drunk cocktail nearby; the running person is Roslin, getting stronger as she runs; the phone wakes him from his stupor as she runs; he curses her and heads into the head to clean himself up and brush his teeth for another thirty minutes; the people stare silently as she runs by; she grins to herself, euphoric, as cold water runs down his face; he stares mutely into the mirror, toothpaste froth everywhere; she hits a junction and comes slamming around the corner, pushing officers and cute gay pilot couples out the way; he stomps to the next junction and stands at the top of the steps, so she almost runs right into him. He looks like majestic, like a sentinel, and this is also an awesome thing about Bill: when he lets go and loses the plot, he will literally drool on you, but he also pulls it together faster than anybody I've ever seen.
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