Enterprise
Storm Front, Part I

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Ding Dong, Daniels is Dead!
Previously on Enterprise, Season Three happened. Previously in My Life, I went to a Very Uncomfortable Wedding where I successfully avoided all contact with a horrible ex (who now looks like complete and utter hell), was told by my college friends that they're annoyed I haven't gained a pound or seemed to age since college, and had Dr. Mathra favorably compared to a less puffier Ben Affleck. I think I'm ready to start this season.

Major props and karmic drinks go out to Jacob for keeping an eye on the forums this weekend, and a big Doris Day-Rock Hudson kiss to Demian for doing the recaplet, keeping an additional eye on the boards, AND meeting us for drinks in Chicago before the Very Uncomfortable Wedding Reception. You are awesome, man, and we had a fabulous time in Chicago all because of your wonderfulness. I can't wait for our next Bitch and Gossip session. Also, it may have been lost in the all the crap surrounding the premiere, the on-going beef and veal photo-shoot, and wedding stuff, but I wanted to wish the Evil Dr. Mathra (and therefore myself) a Happy Fourth Anniversary -- we're drinking that bottle of perfect gigondas soon, I promise!

Tripper Gore and May-Present-and-Accounted-For are still under attack from some Blue Angels gone psycho. Having been to many air shows, May-Still-Here correctly identifies their attackers as P-51s. Trip responds, "I don't think this is an air show." Yes, thank you for that, Trip. Now go make yourself useful and shut up. They make several attempts at contacting their attackers before they finally decide to take their space asses out of range of the guns and bombs. Damn, I was hoping the Red Baron might coast on by. What's that you say? The Red Baron is from another war? Do you honestly think that sort of minor detail matters to these writers? Thought not. Damn, now I want a Red Baron pizza. Do you remember those commercials where the corporate woman would come home from a busy day at the office to an empty (but clean and well-decorated) house to find the handsome and be-moustached flying ace waiting for her with an intimate dinner of frozen pizza? Those commercials were Harlequin romance novels.

I REALLY liked the Enterprise promo music they had over the summer and I REALLY wish they'd turn it into the theme song because I REALLY HATE THIS SONG! You know, I think I'd even love the Joey opener for this show.

Quantum sulks in the back of a convoy with manacled hands as a human Nazi tries to make small talk about Hollywood. He slings a comradely arm around his prisoner and jokes that maybe Quantum will introduce him to Betty Grable. "She's not your type," Quantum grumbles. Look, the Nazi's trying to be nice, don't you think you could make a little effort? The Nazi isn't fazed as he laughs and says, "You know, in Hollywood movies, Americans always win," and then he gets all "evil" in order to add, "Too bad you aren't in a movie." Oh, the boots. Look how they are shaking with me in them. The convoy gets ambushed and the driver shot. More shots fired. The -- what shall we call him? HollyNazi? Führerwood? -- orders his driver to keep driving. Uh, the dude's DEAD, Your Goosesteppiness! Honestly, how did they ever invade Poland? Shooting occurs. The snipers firing on the Nazis look like they're in civvies, not military togs, and one guy even looks like Indiana Jones -- same hat and everything. Stands to reason, doesn't it? Where there are Nazis, there's Indiana Jones. Or the Blues Brothers. But only in Illinois, I suppose. Quantum escapes, only to be captured by mobsters. If there's a Big White Book anywhere on a pedestal, talking about Chicago mobs in the thirties, I'm leaving. Oh, and not that I would know this because I can't afford that sort of cable and therefore don't watch, but I think this might be one of the Sopranos actors they suckered into a guest role. If not, don't email me. Really. Don't. ["Since this isn't an email…you're right, it's Bobby Bacala. Who, according to the IMDb, is from my neighborhood. Rad." -- Sars]

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