it's both. the absurd incomprehensibility of the show, what with the high scientific concepts and the low concept characters, makes it a mess to watch. on the surface, it's garbage. none of the characters fit together, the relationships between the science and the story and the warring empires are all pointless and trivial as the curtain sets and we no that none of what has happened will matter. the next time the curtain swings back, revealing the same players on the same stage, we'll see the entire show before it even happens. the three idiots inexplicably do something cosmically stupid, it spirals slowly out of control until it reaches this sort of overwrought, underthought cacophony of tone deaf messages blasting against one another to the annoyance of the viewer.
and so we watch it, or we don't watch it. it's message absorbed, we cast it aside like garbage, saying we know it's like and will never know it's kind again.
until one day we find the discarded remnants of something unobserved, a new wrinkle in an old familiar face, and instead of watching and predicting where the story is going, we ask ourselves a question, get really super ripped off our bong, and watch it again, only this time, we're more than watching. we're listening.
The second time we see it, we notice the pattern of cosmic oneness, the unending dance of two warring factions tirelessly pursuing three inconsequential nitwits. The factions know the significance of the three, and we thought that we did, but realizing that what we saw in the three members of the aloha-oi crew isn't necessarily what the Gogol or Jaichro empire saw in them.
What if our conception of the tropes that comprise the whole of the narrative are actually true, we just read it the wrong way. we noticed the typo in a paragraph somewhere, and it got all of our attention. so we ignored the paragraph, which cost us the chapter, where we dismissed the entirety of the tale at the cost of a single, insignificant untruth. an untruth that, for at least a while, anyway, was an absolute truth for you. and now that you're watching it again.
and suddenly you're swept up in the spectacle of the shiny rings and the groovy music, you feel the meth starting to kick in and you start feeling really excited. i mean really excited. like, i've been doing meth for ten years and i haven't been this high since my first time excited. and you don't even know why, but you watch it all, all of space dandy over the course of three sleepless nights because you're tweaking pretty bad and you keep forgetting which episodes go in which order, so you have to keep watching them at random because they didn't make sense in order and then it hits you and you write it down and you finally pass out.
the next morning you wake up, naked, covered in at least one really unpleasant fluid, a single note scrawled in lipstick that you took from the only drawer of your bathroom in your single bedroom cess pool across the fragmented remains of your shattered mirror. You read the words first, but you bandage your hand before you try to internalize them.
and it starts by asking yourself: what the FUCK made me write "Dandy, QT and Mew are protons and electrons?"?
and then the show is garbage again, but at least for two days, it was the greatest ride of your life.