I’ve never had much patience for sci-fi buffs.  Maybe it was the sci-fi buffs I spent my time around – I don’t know – but their (stereotypically) prickly anal-retentiveness over their genre always rubbed me the wrong way. 

And so I never really understood the whole “Firefly” thing – especially the show’s fans’ anger over the show’s (I gathered from listening to the tribe talking) sudden cancellation.   But working in technology as I do, I heard a lot of complaints.

No.  A lot.

Never could figure out what the fuss was about.

Then, last year, I finally fired up Netflix Streaming.  And Firefly – a “space western” produced by Joss Whedon – was one of the options.

So I started watching. 

And about ten days later, after getting to the end of episode 14, I started looking for the next epi. 

And looking.

And looking.

And remembering the growls and howls of my co-worker fanboys and fangirls.

And then I got angry.  And then just sad and disappointed at the waste of so much…potential. 

And I stayed a little of both.

Until today. 

UPDATE:  Or not. 

I guess it’s karma; for all the times I’ve yanked others’ chains, it’s probably fitting that I not only fell for a April Fools joke, but one that’s been around for a few years. 

OK.  The universe is at balance. 

For now.

(Play that joke on me again, and you’ll be awake, facing me, and armed…)