Galactica, frack yeah!

I hope that by now you are all setting aside the 9 o'clock hour (CST) as Battlestar Galactica Time or at least have programmed your VCR or TiVo machine to record it. I know I have.

If you haven't watched Friday night's episode yet, don't read the rest of this.

Favorite moments, in no particular order:

• Dr. Baltar's indignant protestation of the moniker "Doc."

• The fact that Number Six appeared in all black for the funeral.

• Doc Cottle stubbing his cigarette out in the bedpan.

• Doc Cottle smoking in the sick bay in the first place.

• Doc Cottle growling: "How should I know? I'm a doctor, not a psychic." (Remind you of anyone?)

• The devices the Cylons built on Kobol. Could they have moved any more creepily?

• Chief Tyrol's decision to adhere to ranks instead of siding with Baltar regarding Crashdown's ill-advised attack on the Cylons. I was surprised and a bit impressed.

• Baltar's decision to cap Crashdown in a crucial moment. Maybe he is capable of siring an heir.

• Col. Tigh hittin' the bottle, or, as I like to call it, "Tighing one on" (ba-dum-dum).

• Ellen Tigh: so delightfully bitchy.

• Col. Tigh and Doc Cottle's spectacular display of assholery in the sick bay.

• The fact that Adama's bed appears to be enshrouded in plastic shower curtain liners.

• President Roslin telling the Quorum of Twelve about her cancer. One word: strategery.

• And finally, my brother's apt description of the lovelorn Baltar: "He's Toaster-whipped."