Reading Brit’s post about The Lone Gunmen, the short-lived spinoff from the X Files, brought back memories.
I was seriously enamoured of the X Files. I watched it faithfully. When I was unable to watch it in those pre-Tivo (shudder!) days, I made arrangements to have it recorded onto VHS tape for later viewing. For the season three premiere, I invited equally geeky friends over for a themed dinner complete with Mutilated Chicken and Conspiracy Theory Salad.
The Lone Gunmen were quirky, and though at first they seemed positively neurotic the writing was such that the viewer held on, almost convinced they were wacky conspiracy theorists except for the one bit of truth that tied seemingly disparate pieces of evidence into a neat yet not-quite-decisive package.
X Files was addictive in that we were compelled to tune in each week in hopes of understanding why the government was hiding information from us, when all pieces of the puzzle would be found and the truth would emerge simple, clean and triumphant. In other words, it was satisfying because it never quite provided satisfaction.