Our Buffython continues, and we're in season six. The joy that is Once More With Feeling is a dim and distant memory, and we're reeling with the pain. Make it stop! We've just had disk three (Smashed, Wrecked and Gone), where Willow does the magic-as-drugs metaphor with a baseball bat, and Buffy becomes both invisible and a moral vacuum). We've made it through disk four (Doublemeat Palace, Dead Things) with fast-food embarrassment and Warren's rape fantasy, and now we're about to run into disk five (Hells Bells. Christ.). We felt now was a good time to call it a night. Lots of plonk can deaden the pain, but only so much.
IIRC, this was the first season on UPN after the shift from the WB. The UPN execs must have been thinking, "This isn't what we bought. Where's the real show?"