Sonnet Dare: In Which A Friend And I Wolf Whistle At The Geologic Universe

I doff my hat to William Donahue
For pointing out a thing that's truly hawt:
Both Geo Hrab and his fair partner, who
Already easy on the eyes, have got
Classy new looks! The Maestro grew some hair;
Not on the pate (thank Bog), but on his face
(And yes, that makes him Evil Hrab), right where
It should be. And MsInformation's grace
Is stunningly enhanced by cute new specs.
Applause is due them both, I do agree!
Though crashes may result as rubbernecks
At their most fav'rite crosswalk bend to see
Them as they ward off those fools who would press
That button. This could all be quite a mess!

Sonnet Dare: In Which I Channel A Jedi Master For A Friend's Benefit

When Lethe claimed all that he could do was try,

I promised that quote Yoda I would not.

There things might end, but not so; let it fly

He did with dares. Since like him I a lot,

Down it could not turn I. Write it I will,

A Yoda sonnet, for him it just is.

For fun it is, and as a test of skill

Not beaten could it be. The pleasure's his,

I'm sure, while gloating he must sit

In certainty that fail I will at last.

Too easy it is, though, he will admit

Like Yoda writing is - also a blast!

Fear I do that for all of today

Talk will I now in this peculiar way.

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Muse On My Visit To District 9

Johannesburg's an interesting place
To set some science fiction. District Nine
Proves this in spades as refugees from space
Are rescued there, where echoes of malign
And human stories linger. Mix in crass
Bureaucracy and mutual disdain,
And we start up a film that has some class:
Intriguing hints of darkness with a vain
Protagonist it's hard to like, but then
Explosions start and gunfights and we've lost
The thread of mystery. I'm not sure when
A buddy pic took over at the cost
Of giving up on exploration of
How these poor creatures got there, for all love!

In Which I All But Wee Myself Over... A Toaster?

We all know that I love my BSG

And miss it so now that it's at an end.

But can you all imagine all my squee

To see this thing? It's sent me round the bend.

I'd love it just for all its shiny chrome,

My decor tends to modern, metal-shine.

But it's a Cylon toaster! How my home

Doth need it! For it I would build a shrine.

It doesn't just resemble Cylons, no:

The toast it makes takes on a Cylon face.

And think on how my own face, it would glow

Each morning when I take my toast. In space

Or here on Earth, it would be a fine thing.

O Cylon toaster, how of thee I'd sing!

SONNET DARE: In Which A Hapless Survivor Is Prepared For A New Role

I've e'er been strong, as sleepers these days go.
A brass band or jet plane could n'er wake me.
It's no suprise, then, that I missed the woe
And violence when Skynet did decree
Extermination of all humankind
(Or was that Davros? I sometimes mix up
My robot overlords). I am confined
Now to a cell, where I am forced to sup
On funky meats and get no exercise.
I'm gaining weight and getting soft like veal.
I'm quite confused. I really don't surmise
That I am meant to be a fancy meal.
Robots don't eat, though they do like a show.
What's this? OK, "Solo! Hay lapa no?"

In Which I Explain The Motivation Behind A Hashtag (#doctorwhotillmyeyesbleed)

I lived without TV for many years,

Well over ten, if truth indeed be told.

I missed it not, except for -- bring the jeers --

One show from overseas I'd loved of old.

That show was Doctor Who, which only came

To me in Saratoga, much delayed,

Through Denver's PBS, which bore the flame

Of wobbly sets and Time Lords, chiefly played

By one Tom Baker, then Pete Davison.

The show went on without me, glad to say,

While I attended Bard, grad school, had fun

In Boston writing for odd 'zines, away

From any cathode ray tubes but now I've

A hankerin' to see Docs beyond Five.

BONUS SONNET: BSG "The Final Cut" Performed By Beloved Comic Strip Characters

A mike in hand, Miss Peppermint Patty,
Invades Charlie Brown's space at ev'ry turn,
Accusing him and his of things that he
Cannot deny while Marcy's cam'ras churn.
Meanwhile poor Lucy languishes in jail,
And Sally Brown and Linus have a fight.
Seems Linus found grafitti; Sally's pale
While Snoopy snickers at them both. In spite
Of image issues, Schroeder and a girl
(Red-haired and Little) dance around in towels.
And what of Pigpen? Why does Patty hurl
Each time he tries to show her what he's found?
A proper hatchet job is done indeed
And Cylon Patty stays true to her breed.

A Module By Another Name... Is Still A Module

While I am one of those who'd gladly name
The third module of our dear ISS
Serenity (a Browncoat hath no shame)

I really do not share in the distress

Of those who watched an upstart named Colbert

Steal Joss' thunder and round up more votes.

I laugh instead, for during this affair

Ron Paul's folks also earned themselves some gloats

And stole Ken Rudin's presidential poll.

These "scandals" move me equally. They're meant

For fun, as are, say, psychic friends. How droll!

So go ahead and fuss, Browncoats, and vent.

Then think about how cool it all would be:

Serenity: The Lunar Colony!

Just When I Have Lost My Will To Wait, My Sources Say BSG Is No Longer Worth Waiting For

I don't have cable television; it
Just isn't worth the vast expense to me
To see the two or three shows I find fit
To watch each week. And now I'm thinking three
Is over gen'rous. Patience is one of
My virtues rare; I mostly can rely
On Netflix for the few shows that I love.
But lately I've grown used to a supply
More timely than a DVD release:
Sci-Fi Rewind and Hulu have seduced
Me into feeling anything but peace
In waiting for Galactica, reduced
To wailing like a junkie for her fix -
And just in time, the show's run out of tricks.

Bonus Sonnet on Battlestar Galactica

The last Cylon need not be Ellen Tigh.
A herring she could be in a red dress.
Of course, I know, on Earth we saw her die
And tell her husband fie on his distress.
There are so many episodes to go,
So many chances for a twist or turn
Of just the sort we like about this show.
It's possible that we have yet to learn
How these five people crossed both time and space,
Were normal folks who lived on Planet Earth,
Then manifested in a brand new place,
Quite ign'rant of the nature of their birth.
Remember, too, the Colonel's silly tics
Mistaking his dead wife sometimes for Six.