Okay, I’m as big a geek as the next dude. I like video games, I jerk off to cartoons, and ever since I was but a wee lad, I’ve dreamed of glazing Princess Leia’s buns. Hell, I even go through pon farr, which has landed me on several watch-lists and scares the shit out of the neighborhood cats.
But I’m not a big enough dork to pass on a hottie in thigh-highs and a fuck-me pout. In fact, if she were hanging around, I wouldn’t even wear pants… I’d just keep a Conan-style loincloth handy for when the pizza guy comes to the door or I need something to wipe my dick on.
(Y’know, for when her hair is already too sticky.)
I certainly wouldn’t upset the sexy applecart over a cancelled TV show whose biggest star was the black cop on Barney Miller. A show that crossed Oregon Trail with Battlestar Galactica, featuring a hot-ass space-prostitute and a captain who was like a gay John Wayne. The one where My Bodyguard decides to stress his dramatic muscles and play a big, dumb guy with a bad attitude. The one with the psychic ballerina assassin and the horny female engineer who spent more time designing motorized dildos than actually fixing the spaceship. The one with the married couple who amounted to a shotgun-toting dominatrix and her unleashed slave-boy.
In other words, the greatest show in the history of forever. Doesn’t matter. It all comes down to one thing.
Vagina > Joss Whedon. Truth.