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My secret addiction: Graeme comes clean.

Graeme McMillan

Am I the only one who has a problem with spoilers? And by problem, I mean “Can’t help myself and end up reading all of them?” I realized this when I sat down to write what was going to be something about last Sunday’s Battlestar Galactica season finale (very short version: It all depends on what they do with the two big plot twists next year. If they follow the “shocks” up with story that makes sense, then I’m sold, but I’m somewhat uncertain that they’re able to actually do that right now. That said, I thought it was very good, with the one major misstep of using a song from real life – I didn’t recognize it from the music, but as soon as Tyrol said “There must be someway out of here,” I was completely pulled out of the story by the recognition), then remembered the conversation Bri and I had had about the show last Friday, talking in code because Jeff hasn’t seen any of the third season yet (Hibbs would say something like “What do you think about One-Eye?” and I felt like we should be talking about killer dinosaurs or something). Damn, I thought, I’ll have to put in a spoiler warning or something for people who haven’t seen the episode yet.

And then I remembered that I was thoroughly spoiled for the last episode by this time last week. I hadn’t intended to be; I had convinced myself that I was going to try and stay pure for the show this year, so that I could have the inevitable “What the frak” (because, you know, it’s Battlestar Galactica) moment the way it was intended. And then, somewhere I can’t even remember where, someone made an offhand comment to the finale being spoiled online and put a link. And even as I thought, I don’t want to read that, I clicked on the link and read the whole thing.

Today, I did a similar thing; knowing full well that I was going to pick up this week’s 52 this afternoon, I still read Wizard’s synopsis of the issue ahead of time. I couldn’t really tell you why, beyond the fact that I was curious and it was there. I certainly had no real reason to know what happened to Animal Man those three hours earlier than I would be buying the issue itself. I just couldn’t help myself.

There is, I’m convinced, money in this compulsion. I can’t be the only person who just has to know even though they may not particularly want to know, and I know that this goes way beyond comics (sites like Spoiler Fix make that obvious). All I need to do is meld that need with people’s general insecurities and create a new kind of horoscope for the 21st century. Do away with that whole birthdate thing, and just run a website where people would pay me to spoil their lives for them. “Tomorrow, you’ll regret having that second cup of coffee. But by May, don’t be surprised if romance has come back into your life, if my recent interview with your ex-boyfriend is anything to go by.” It’s a winner of an idea, I’m telling you.

I’ll get to it just as soon as I read what’s going to happen in the season finale of Gilmore Girls.

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