On Battlestar Galactica and therapy

I watched the new Battlestar Galactica mini-series last year and really enjoyed the cast of characters: Commander Adama, near retirement, is thrust into the role of Stern Father; The President, uh, what's her name, the former Education Minister, provides the role of Mother and conscience; Apollo is the Golden Boy with the weight of all the Eldest Son expectations on his shoulders; Starbuck is the Wild Child; Colonel Ty is the Drunk Uncle; Gaius Baltar is the insane but brilliant scientist who doomed 99.9% of humanity by selling defense secrets (unknowingly) to the Cylons. They were all stock characters, sure, but now with the series, there's room for them to grow. What they all seek is redemption, to prove that they can be more than what they were before their world blew up (okay, so it took an apocalpyse, but in real life, that's how most of us are motivated to try and change as well). I just hope that they don't become too mired in their own existential angst. Oh, and more dogfights in space! A bit of adventure lightens the mood from time to time.

I'm hoping that Colonel Ty, my favorite character, gets even drunker and nastier. As the Executive Officer, he gets to do the dirty work. Punch people. Scowl. Throw people into the brig. Turn off the oxygen in battle damaged sections of the Galactica where there are still survivors to save the rest of the ship. Boy. No wonder he drinks. It ain't easy being Adama's bulldog. Too bad all the social workers died during the Cylon invasion. He could have used a therapist. But don't we all wish we had a friend like him, you know, to do what we wouldn't have the guts to do?