Lighten Up While You Still Can

I was bummed out earlier today when I heard that the townspeople of Bozeman, Montana are not fond of Star Trek fans who travel there to mark the (future) site of mankind's first contact with aliens.  Anecdotally, they have been known to brandish rake handles and corn cobs and suggest that Trekkies "shove long and prosper."

It made me sad because, just like Metropolis, Illinois, which proclaims itself the home of Superman, and Riverside, Iowa, which calls itself the future birthplace of James T. Kirk*, you'd think any town would welcome the kind of tourists that would come there for the day, buy mugs and t-shirts, take pictures, then scatter (of course, Bozeman is literally a hundred and eighteen times the size of my hometown, so maybe they don't need that kind of thing).

But then I found out that Winslow, Arizona, a little town that used to be on the famous Route 66 but lost all of its industry and tourism when the historical highway was relocated, has thoroughly embraced its minor bit of fandom.  You see, in 1972, the Eagles released the song Take It Easy, which includes the line:

         Well, I'm standin' on a corner in Winslow, Arizona,
         Such a fine sight to see;
         It's a girl, my lord, in a flatbed Ford,
        Slowin' down to take a look at me.

. . . and the lovely folks of Winslow (a little burg only nine times the size of my hometown) decided to honor the song by building a park (Standin' On The Corner Park) and tribute, where Eagles fans can go and, I dunno, imagine that a girl is slowing to look at them too.  Because wouldn't that be great?

There's a mural, a painting, a prop vehicle, and a statue of "The Troubadour," which folks say looks like Jackson Browne, who wrote the song.

In 2016, after Glenn Frey (singer and cowriter of the song) died, another statue was put up to honor him . . . all in an attempt to draw tourists to their little corner of the globe.  

People can go there, take a picture, buy a souvenir, and remember a great song.  And maybe they fill up at the Maverik gas station or Circle K, or have lunch at the McDonalds on Park Drive or the Brown Mug Cafe on Second Street.  And then, everybody wins. 

It's difficult to explain how much joy I got from reading about it and seeing the various photos people have taken over the years (it opened in 1999), because it doesn't really do anything, you know what I mean, and yet it somehow manages to mean something.

Would it kill you, Bozeman, to put up a statue too?

*Oh, and I just learned that Vulcan, Alberta in Canada has an annual Spock Day celebration, complete with a bust of Leonard Nimoy and a statue of the Enterprise.  All in an effort to lessen my sadness at Bozeman's (alleged) assholery.

Rish Outcast 290: Wanna See Something Really Scary?

Just in time to celebrate the 42nd anniversary of the release of Michael Jackson's Thriller, Rish talks to Marshal and Big about movies that scared them. 

What scared you?

Flicks mentioned include:
THE SHINING (1980)
CREEPSHOW (1982)
PET SEMATARY (1989)
A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (1984)
FRIDAY THE 13TH (1980)
JAWS (1975)
PHANTASM II (1988)
THE RING (2002)
AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981)
STAR TREK II: THE WRATH OF KHAN (1982)

If you want to download the episode, Right-Click HERE.

If you want to support me on Patreon, click HERE.

If you wanna see something really scary, click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Something Really Hairy" Moretto.

7-30 and 7-31

7-30

I got one of those fun "Prove it's really you" tests over on Paypal today, where it wanted me to confirm my identity by sending me a text to my phone, then I had to type it in on the computer before the time elapsed.  No big deal, right?  Except for once I typed it in, I got the error, "Sorry, unable to verify your ID," and it wouldn't log in.

Didn't quite get 700 words today.  I kept trying to find synonyms for "concern" and "worry."  There aren't a lot, at least in my mind.

Anyway, I'm gonna head home and get some more reading done.  I'm in the home stretch now.

Oh, hey.  CatsCast asked if I wanted to do another story for them already.  I'll have to come up with something funny to say in my bio.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7-31

So, last week, David Warner died.  He was an excellent actor, nearly always playing bad guys (in TRON and TIME BANDITS and TIME AFTER TIME and even TITANIC), and played Gul Madred in the excellent two-part "Chain of Command" episode on Star Trek: TNG.  David Warner was cool, and because he died while I was reading Abbie's book, I thought I'd try and make one of the new characters sound like him.

The same day, Paul Sorvino died, who had a great film career . . . but also played Worf's foster brother on a seventh season TNG episode called "Homeward."

And then today, Nichelle Nichols, who played Lt. Uhura on the original "Star Trek" (and six movies), passed away too.  She was 89.

My friends and I were always disappointed that Uhura had nothing to do on the show, especially knowing how important she was in inspiring so many people to pursue communications, linguistics, and the space program.  And hey, anybody who was on the original "Star Trek" is pretty great, between you and me.

There were so many tributes, both from Trek alumni and from others, and that was great, but Pat Carroll, who played the GOAT of all Disney villains, Ursula the Sea Witch died that same day, and I wished she'd had a day of her own to be appreciated.

I had a long drive in the morning, which is pretty irresponsible considering the price of gas (which has dropped more than thirty cents since the start of July, so it could be worse), but there was a guy who's moving and wanted to get rid of some of his figures, and the deal was good enough I was willing to make the drive. 

I made sure to finish reading Abbie's book, though it didn't take much (the last several pages were author's notes, and I had read those as I went along).  Then my nephew wanted to ride his little bicycle around, so I told him I'd take him to the park, and he could bike while I ran.  It was hot and fairly miserable, but we went all the way around, and I did the stairs three times (well, four times, technically, since there's another set of much steeper steps on the far side of the park).  Afterward, I got him (and me) a Slurpiee, and figured we'd both earned it.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

Blog 7/2 - 7/7

Ugh.  I spent quite a while blogging at the library, and once again, when I opened my blog file . . . it was empty.  I cannot get my head around that.  I mean, gmail fudgin' saves every ten seconds or so (maybe more often than that), so it should've had at least SOME of what I wrote today, even if it didn't catch the last bit before I logged off their computer.

I'm pissed enough to just publish this week's blog in the half-assest way imaginable.  But then I'll come in and paste in something for the days where I later emailed myself a note.

7/2
Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/3

I didn't mention this, but at one point, Marshal commented that my Cousin Ryan and I were always calling each other "Chima."  He referred to it as some Spanish word, but I didn't know what he was talking about.  Except that we do do it all the time.  "Chima" was the name of a Lego subline from a decade or more back, and I thought the word was delightfully ugly (and it my mind, it's crazily similar to "chalupa," even though it isn't really).  So I started calling him "Chima," and he started calling it back to me.  And when we were watching "Orphan Black," there was a character called Cossima, and my cousin started calling me that for a while.

So, things can always be worse.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/4

Lots of fireworks tonight, which I was going to use as an excuse to not record anything, maybe go for a run instead.  But around midnight, the explosions died down, and I sat down and recorded Chapter 6 of "But Now I'm Found."  To my horror, it took one hour and twenty-one minutes . . . the longest I've ever spent on a chapter.

Even so, it was progress, and any amount of progress is good.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/5

Because Jeff is in town this week and next week has a family reunion, I've decided to forgo the cabin this week, and spend Wednesday and Thursday with him.  I imagine that one day one (or both) of us will be dead, so it's best to get in the visit while we can.

I spent a good chunk of my visit to the library tonight catching up on my blog over the last few days.*  I also, out of curiosity, did a word count on my story "The Washer Whispers," which was just over 5400 words.  It's only a third of the way through, I said at the time, but I'm cool with that, and looking forward to find out where it's going.  Well, that's still true, but any setback has the capacity to discourage me, and that's a pretty big character flaw of mine.

Not the biggest, I'm sure, but pretty big.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/6

Jeff had saved an obscure Eighties Slasher movie called DEADLY GAMES (1982) for us to watch.  But wow, it was really bad.  Worse than pretty much any movie the two of us have watched together in the five years he's been moved away (it starred Steve Railsback, who I've never liked, even in good films).  Because I'm upset to have lost all of last week's blog posts, I don't imagine I'll say much about this, but I think Jeff felt bad because the pick was his, and he had such high hopes for it.**

Afterward, he offered to buy us a bag of chips, and let me pick the movie we'd watch.  I said, "Well, I've always wanted to see TRAIN TO BUSAN, but was scared off by the subtitles."  

So we checked to see if it was available, and sure enough, there were three versions: English Dub, Korean Subtitle, and Spanish Dub.  We started with the English dubbed version, just because you didn't know which version you were watching until people started talking, and Jeff turned it off after about six seconds, claiming the dubbed dialogue was the worst he'd ever heard (I, however, thought it was just fine.  Heck, I might watch that version by myself sometime, just to see how it feels).  So we watched it all from the subtitled version, and aside from me not knowing any of the characters' names, it was a wholly pleasant experience.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

7/7

Jeff had gone to the library (if I know him, he had been there, outside the door, when it opened in the morning) and got an Italian Slasher movie for us to watch, probably to make up for yesterday's turd.  It was a forgotten Mario Bava flick called FIVE DOLLS FOR AN AUGUST MOON (1970), and was absolutely terrible.  

In many ways, it was similar to DEADLY GAMES in that the filmmakers seemed to be shooting random scenes that connected to nothing, and then cutting them together in post.  But it was Italian-made, and that gave it a bit of charm, and it had Edwige Fenech in it, who we watched last year in Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key (and also starred in the slightly-less-well-titled Strip Nude for Your Killer (1975).

We were able to watch the season finale of "Star Trek: Strange New Worlds," and wouldn't you know, they managed one more excellent episode.  By my count, that's ten for ten.  I may spend the rest of my life wondering how they could pull that off (which, of course, leaves me open to disappointment the second they put out a mediocre one).  Still, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth.  Just like "Mandalorian" rekindled some fans' faith in the Star Wars franchise again, I'm so thrilled with the ten episodes of 2022 Star Trek we got, that I'll try my best not to criticize "Discovery" for the next little while.

Writing or Exercise: Writing

*Sure seems stupid now, in retrospect.

**In his defense, he had watched the trailer last year and sent me a link, asking if I wanted to check it out, and yeah, the trailer was one of those Good Parts Only edits that made me vote Aye.

Blog 6/21

Today is the longest day of the year.  Not sure why we don't celebrate it here, but we do celebrate other things.  Why don't we observe Siblings Day (April 10th) or First Contact Day (April 5th), but we do celebrate St. Patrick's Day and Arbor Day?

It was the first Tuesday in months I haven't gone to the library (yesterday was a holiday, so they were closed).  But hey, there was a family get-together a few towns over, and I chose to go to that instead.  I should've made myself run around the block, though, like I used to.

Heck, maybe I will.

I did, in fact, go running during the day for the first time this year (the ones at the cabin don't count--they kind of have to be during the day).  I've mentioned before (heck, after blogging daily for seven hundred days, I've mentioned EVERYTHING, from hemorrhoids to having an opera singer for a neighbor) that I'm super self-conscious when I run, and have been heckled a couple of times from teenaged buttholes passing me in their trucks (or truck . . . could it have been the same teens all three times?).  But that has happened at night as well, not to mention the dudes (or dudettes, for you feminist spies out there, I suppose a girl could be a butthole) that were driving in the wrong lane right there where I was running around the corner on two different occasions (same dude?).  But I couldn't go to the library, so I ran, which is better than nothing (though not as good as in 2020 when I would do both every Tuesday) before going to meet my cousin.

As far as that went, "Obi-Wan Kenobi" ended, and the last episode wasn't too bad, but the show is ultimately inconsequential, ultimately kind of pointless.  It's like "Encounter at Ord Mantell" or "Caravan of Courage" to the Star Wars saga as a whole.

Once again, "Strange New Worlds" was excellent.  I honestly don't know how they do it.  Pound for pound, it's the best Star Trek we've ever had.  

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to Marshal Latham (who had watched "Discovery," unlike me), and asked about Spock's relationship with his father and mother (as well as the sister with the terrible name that was the star of the show), and at some point I said, "I wonder if they'd ever mention that Sybok exists."  He doubted it, same as me, and I said, "If it were my show, I'd introduce Sybok, and explore the relationship of the two brothers, and how Spock longs to be the perfect Vulcan, even though his heritage prevents that, and how Sybok longs to be human (or human-like) despite being full-blooded Vulcanian."  To my surprise (and utter delight), in the most recent episode, they teased a future appearance by the erratic and dangerous older brother (Spock calls him his father's illegitimate son).  I totally believe it is possible to redeem that character, and make him into a villain to be feared.  Stranger (new worlds) things have happened.

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

Blogs 5/9 & 5/10

5/9

To my relief, the replacement printer came today.  Also, winter came again, as it was cold enough outside again today to make me wear a sweater and keep the window closed.  Of course, when I picked my nephew up at his football practice, he said it was hot and wanted the windows rolled down.  To each their own.

I've been reporting on the weird email messages I've been getting in my Spam folder.  Today I got one that said, "This is the WORST Food you can Possibly eat!"  Out of curiosity, I clicked on the link.  Yep, it's week-old potato salad.*

You won't believe this (well, I certainly don't), but with the writing I did last night before falling asleep (my laptop was still open next to me and the light was still on when my alarm went off) and what little I managed just now . . . "Balms & Sears" is now over 40,000 words long.

I guess it's safe to say I'm in the zone now.  Huh.

WRITING/EXERCISE: Writing.

5/10

Maybe I complain too much about the little hardships in my life, but being able to send a label to a printer and have it in my hand a minute (or less) later is really appreciated.

I took my four year old nephew to his baseball practice today, and it is the absolute beginner tier for sports . . . but even so, it was like wrangling a hornet's nest on that field.  My nephew hasn't even mastered catching a ball with his mitt yet, and it was frustrating to see how short the attention spans of the children involved were.  But when they split the kids and the parents into two groups and we had to throw a ball back and forth, well, that's when I discovered just how uncoordinated and unathletic I (still) am.  

Oh, I could catch the ball when he'd throw it (providing it came anywhere near me), but since he'd just stand there like a scarecrow with his arm out, I found it extremely difficult to get the ball into the mitt more than a single time.  I often wish I could go back in time and do my life over again, zigging when I originally zagged (or more likely, just sat on my hands instead of zigging or zagging), but to be the weakest, most backward and uncoordinated kid on any team again . . . well, that does not appeal to me in the slightest.

Well, I was pretty much just wasting my time here at the library, reading people's opinions of DOCTOR STRANGE 2 online and such, and it occurred to me that I ought to leave if I'm not going to do anything productive.  I wrote about four paragraphs, which isn't anything to brag about, but I'm going to take off, grab something to eat, and maybe finish editing the story I owe EscapeArtists.

I went to my cousin's house, who was feeling sick (he's been sick all this week, but made it clear that I am NOT in his will), and was able to watch the first episode of "Star Trek: Strange New Worlds."

It tells of Christopher Pike as Captain of the USS Enterprise on its five year mission, and somebody somewhere said it was the longest period of time between a pilot (1964) and the series it spawned (2022).  I quite enjoyed it, especially the optimistic, more fundamentally decent take on the "Trek" universe.

Oh, there's still a few things that remind me I'm not watching the "Original Series" or "Next Generation," but it didn't seem to have the disdain for those shows that some of the new stuff trumpets.  And I was both moved and inspired by the end.  I'll have to ask Marshal and my cousin what they think of the show.**

WRITING/EXERCISE: Writing.

*Actually, when I clicked on the link, there was a video that it wanted me to watch, and when I started to exit the page, this big "ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO CLICK AWAY?" window popped up.  I will never know what the worst food I could possibly eat is, so I'm destined to consume it one day. 

**There are still too many characters introduced to keep things super-straight, but because you're (presumably) already familiar with Pike, Spock, Number One/Una, Nurse Chapel, Doctor M'Benga, and Uhura, it's not quite asking so much of the viewers.

Rish Outcast 215: What's Normal?

Rish waxes rhapsodic about not being normal.  As he does.

Go ahead and download the episode by Right-Clicking HERE.

Go back and support me at Patreon by clicking HERE.

Logo by Gino "Para-Normal" Moretto.

Big, Rish, & Marshal Talk EWOKS: BFE

Do you miss That Gets My Goat?  Well, Marshal and I corralled Big Anklevich to come on the "Delusions of Grandeur" podcast again, and talk to us about "The Ewoks: Battle For Endor" TV movie.  It was the first time I had seen it since 1985, and I think Big remembered it even less than I did.  Marshal Latham himself had never seen it.

But it was not a bad movie, in my opinion, and the episode of us talking about it, is one of our best.  It took practically forever for me to edit, but it made me laugh more than any other "Delusions" episode we've done.

Check it out HERE . . . but make sure to bring your boob armor.

September Sweeps - Day 241

So, I finally heard back from Audible about the second Lara and the Witch piece ("You're In Good Hands").  They rejected it, which shouldn't really surprise me.  What does is that I submitted it in April, and they got back to me on it the last week in September.  That's unconscionable, and the rejection is only the rotten cherry on top of the diarrhea sundae.  I think I could fix the two little things they complained about in an hour or so, except I just don't care anymore.  I finished that audiobook months ago, and would rather not throw more time at it.

Of course, I've got an episode of the Rish Outcast promoting it just ready to to go, and if I can get them to approve the file soon, it could drop right after the next show.  I could show off my new Indiana Jones "Lost Episode" intro (meet the new intro, same as the old intro).  And the irony is, I'll probably make more money from the episode advertising "You're In Good Hands" than the audiobook itself.  Irony's funny that way.

Sit-ups Today: 166
Sit-ups In September: 4333

I'm going to the cabin for sure tomorrow, maybe I can muster the whatever-the-opposite-of-apathy-is to see if I can polish that turd one more time.  I'll let you know.*

As far as that goes, I really ought to get something published in audio, if only so it's out of my hands.  If someone wants to listen through my latest three hour project to find errors for me, I'll send it right over.

I went to my cousin's after it got dark, and we watched the newest episode of "Star Trek: Lower Decks." It's the animated tribute/parody, and the show has really grown on me.  I still like the main character least of the four (she very nearly made me quit the show halfway through the second episode), but I do laugh in every episode.  And I've started to believe that it's a series made by people who love Star Trek, rather than by people who hate it (which is a criticism that's been leveled at every piece of modern "Trek," from J.J. Abrams's movies to, especially, "Discovery").  

I guess I ought to wonder if people who listen to my Star Wars sketches (and stories) think I don't like Star Wars, but I don't really care what they think.  I've heard far too many people refer to the Prequels as "misunderstood genius" to give a steaming Bantha patty what any of the fans say.  

Push-ups Today: 52
Push-ups In September: 1150

I got together with Renee last night to record my sketch for the next "Delusions of Grandeur" show.  I was quite proud of it (hence actually getting Renee to do it with me, rather than shrugging it off like the two previous sketches I wrote).  However, it didn't seem all that funny to me as we were recording it, but that could just be my own neuroses talking.  

Also, I was displeased to discover that ten or eleven of my character's lines began with "Well," like I was an old Ronald Reagan impression.  I even vaguely remember taking out a couple of wells the last time I looked through it, so there would've been even more.

Hopefully, other people (all three listeners to "DoG") find it as funny as it was in my head.

After our recording, I spoke to Renee a little bit, and I'm simply in awe of her output as a professional narrator.  She told me she's starting on her 200th audiobook, either Monday night or Tuesday, and it was due at the end of the week.  That boggles my mind.  She seemed really interested in telling me about her experiences, so I told her I'd like to sit with her and do an episode where we talk about her process and what she's learned.  Maybe I'll write up a few questions to ask her, but she seems keen just to talk, so why not?

I type this at 3:25pm, and I've already got thirty words written today.  Would be nice if I didn't stop there.

Words Today: 923
Words In September: 30,635

*At the very least, it might inspire me to work on the third "Lara and the Witch" story, which is about a third done and is set a couple of years after the first two.

June Sweeps - Day 126

I've got to get some writing done.  It's nearly ten, and not a single word.  I've got to be strong, and try to hang on, before this decadence causes my will to snap!

Oh no, Big just texted to boast about his word count, and the fact that he knows the loving touch of a woman WITHOUT then hearing the dread words, "No, no, cuddling costs extra."

I will force myself to write at least one hundred words right now.

I apologize in advance, but this image really amuses me:

So, I came back from the cabin yesterday (oh, I neglected to mention that at no point was I even remotely scared to be up there alone.  I didn't creep myself out much--there's the requisite moment of glancing upstairs and imagining someone standing there, staring down at me, of course--and at no point did I let my imagination mess with my head.  Rish Outfield: 1 Brain: 0), and was saddened I had to cut my trip short like I did.  Last year (and the year before, to a lesser extent), I would go up there and if I wanted to stay an extra day, I usually had the freedom to simply do so.*

This year, I have a lot more work to do (which is a good thing, no worries), but I think my schedule is even easier because I don't have to watch the kids on Wednesdays this year (my mom no longer works at the hospital that night), or worry about mowing the lawns at my father's house (the house was sold, and no longer my responsibility).  So I could, barring "The Unforeseen," go up pretty much every week.

But I don't know if I should go every Wednesday/Thursday.  Is that too much of a good thing?  Last year, I NEEDED to go up there every week, because it's when I got writing done.  This year, I'm supposed to be writing every single day regardless of where I am.  We'll see what I do next week.

In happy news, the thrift store one town south of us reopened today.*  I took my nephew there, and we both took a picture for my Instagram page.  The boy didn't even complain all that much about me taking his picture, which was a nice change.  Here is mine:

I'm thinking those sit-ups aren't helping.

I spoke to Tanner today, the guy I've somewhat modeled Mason Bradley in my "Dead & Breakfast" series after, and he really is moving to Montana next week.  That means I will probably see him on Tuesday, and then never again.  That makes me quite sad.  As I've stated before, we're not technically even friends, but I will miss him nonetheless, and feel like maybe we could have become friends, in another set of circumstances.

"Well," as Captain Picard once said, "it's . . . not . . . going . . . to happen . . . now."

Speaking of Picard, BigBadToyStore put this up for preorder this week:

I'm on the fence about ordering it.  But I would like to own this pin:

Sit-ups Today: 111
Sit-ups in June: 627

Words Today: 1029
Words In June: 5500

*I remember the first trip, though, being problematic because there were no caffeinated beverages up there, and I could only survive without one for so long.

**I didn't end up buying anything.  They had the canopy to a Hasbro TIE Fighter, but no wings,

Rish Outcast 165: I Feel . . . Young

So, this is a reaaaaally personal episode, again.  In this one, I  talk about my midlife crisis, teenage girls, TMIs for a while, and end up discussing THE WRATH OF KHAN.

Oh, and maybe a new story . . . if you're good.



Here's a link to the story "A Mark On The Sky" you'd be doing us both a favor by reading.  And here's the audiobook . . . even better.

Just Right-Click HERE to download the episode.

Just Left-Click HERE to support me on Patreon.  Join the few, the proud . . . the few.

Just a logo by Gino "He Tasks Me" Moretto.

February Sweeps - Day 2

Today was Super Bowl Sunday, a fairly significant holiday in America.  I thought I might podcast instead.  Recently, I posted a photo of Admiral Kirk at the end of WRATH OF KHAN, where he says, "I feel . . . young."  Kirk was fifty in that movie, and I absolutely cannot stop thinking about it, about youth, about regrets, about things I might have done that could have put me on a different, better path.

I don't get to sleep at night, I keep wondering if should have made different life choices, and I find myself shockingly emotional at inopportune times.  I recorded a ninety minute confessional podcast on Tuesday to send to someone to post after I am dead.  I created an Instagram page in some misguided attempt to feel significant.  I've exercised, I drank Diet soda instead of the good stuff, and I've tried listening to new, modern (and mostly so, so bad) music.

Every day, I dwell on it and--

Oh, shit.  This is just my mid-life crisis, isn't it?

Of course!  How did I not realize that?  It all makes sense now.  Everybody goes through this at some point, don't they?  Well, I imagine Heath Ledger and James Dean and River Phoenix didn't experience it, but you know what I mean.

Hmmm.  My point was that I was thinking of doing an episode where I talk about Admiral Kirk feeling old and then feeling young again.  It just seemed too poignant and close to the surface to leave alone.

I still haven't done my Valentine's Day episode, despite constantly wondering how long it will take (and if it will even work), but I did consider sitting down and writing a V.D. follow-up to my book "A Mark On The Sky" with Fisher and Florence either going on a date or being together right at the end of his stretch of youthening influences (it wouldn't be related to the narrative, except as a farewell from me to those characters, and an attempt by me to write something sweet and romantic and sad at the same time).

Hey, I could even do both (after all, I'm not sleeping).

So, despite how overwhelmingly important the Super Bowl outcome was to me, I tried to be productive today, and went jogging, recorded that Kirk show, edited a podcast, and sat down to write on this new story.  I wish Fisher Palmer the best of luck.  I have to think that, if there's romantic hope for a seventy-something janitor . . . there's hope for me.

Words Today: 1,018
Total Words: 2,476

Yeah, I realize he's fictional, but still...

Leonard Nimoy - Peace and Long Life

A couple of minutes ago I got a mysterious text from my cousin.

"The ship out of danger?"

Most people would be puzzled by this (or maybe they wouldn't, since most people text a lot more than I do; perhaps they'd just think it had auto-corrected wrong, or like the texts I sometimes get from Marshal Latham that are actually intended for his wife, that it was a mistake), but I'm a Lieutenant Commander in Geekdom, and I instantly got the reference.  At the end of WRATH OF KHAN, Spock's first question to Kirk is that.

I was to text back, "Yes, Spock, you saved us all."  But before I could respond, my cousin texted:

"Long live Spock."

And I pondered that for a moment, trying to figure out if my cousin was at home, watching "Star Trek," or if . . .

And then I knew.

Turns out Leonard Nimoy died today, at the age of eighty-three.  He had been ill for a while now, suffering from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (which he claimed was due to years of smoking).  He was taken to a Los Angeles hospital earlier this week, but allowed to die at home.  Despite the title of his first autobiography, he will forever be remembered as Mister Spock.

But he WILL be remembered.  I can't think of a more iconic actor to represent geekhood, and the millions of people "Star Trek," and specifically Spock touched, influenced, and inspired.

I met Nimoy several times, starting in 2000, and he was always serious, calm, and classy.  I highly doubt anyone will remember me that way.  I actually got to work with him once (on an Aleve commercial I got booked on because I fit their casting call for "dumpy, geeky, unattractive men").  Did you see the ad?  He is at a Sci-Fi convention (not specifically, a "Trek" show, so as to be license-free and way cheaper) and his arthritis is acting up, and he's worried he won't be able to do the Spock salute to his fans.  But he takes, like, eleven Aleves, and sure enough . . .

He was also on "Fringe," and hosted "In Search Of," and voiced Galvatron in TRANSFORMERS: THE MOVIE, and did a season of "Mission: Impossible," and directed THREE MEN & A BABY, and recorded that awful "Ballad of Bilbo Baggins" song, and was in the excellent remake of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS.  But few are talking about that right now.  Why does Mister Spock mean so much to people?  Why did I pause and start blogging almost as soon as I  got that text?  Why was I so moved to hear Zachary Quinto's tribute to him, where he said, "I will miss you every day.  May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."?

I don't know, exactly.  That's probably an essay in and of itself.  It could be that Spock represents the ideal alien--a benevolent, wise, cultured alien--of an optimistic future.  It could be that he speaks to those who feel like outcasts, who feel they stand alone, even among a crowd of people.  It could be that he exemplifies Smart People, who are educated and understand math and science and have brilliant minds, especially in a society that devalues that sort of thing.  It could be that he is always so extremely competent and smarter, stronger, older, and more respectable than James Kirk, and yet it is Kirk who always get to score with hot mini-skirted women.

But maybe it was Spock's humanity that made us love him.  He kept emotion and humor and passion bottled up deep inside, but it would occasionally come out, much to our delight.  My fondest Spock moment is in my fondest "Star Trek," the second movie.  In WRATH OF KHAN, bombarded by a fatal dose of radiation, he says, "Do not grieve.  It is logical.  The needs of the many outweigh . . ." "The needs of the few."  "Or the one."  I particularly love the moment right before that where Spock, blinded  and dying, pauses to straighten his uniform top before addressing Admiral Kirk.  "I am," he says, "and always shall be . . . your friend."

In his book, Star Trek Movie Memories, William Shatner talks about the Paramount test screenings of that film, before they added "Remember" and the coda on the Genesis world.  He describes the fans weeping in stunned abandon at the death of Mister Spock, prompting reshoots to put at least the POSSIBILITY of Spock's return in there.  I wish I could see the movie that way, just once.  It couldn't possibly make WRATH OF KHAN any better, but it would feel so very different.

But now he really IS gone.  And he lived a long, long time (well, eighty-three seems old to me), ask me again in twenty years--though you may have to do so via ouija board--and I may have changed my mind), but it's still sad when somebody admirable, famous, and/or great passes away.

This is a photo I took the last time I saw him, at San Diego Comic Con.  We spoke briefly about the reboot movie (I asked him if it surprised him that it made so much money, and why, he supposed, it had done so well) and even though there was a line (and he had been doing it for forty years), he was patient and friendly.

My cousin gave me a copy of "These Are the Voyages" recently, a three-volume examination of the making of the original "Trek" series, and I found it (and the other two books) fascinating, for lack of a less-Spocklike word.  I became much more fixated on "Star Trek" and its lore this year, and my appreciation for (and frustration on behalf of) the Original Series only grew.  So, the death of Spock came at a pivotal moment for me, with it on my mind and heart.

Midway through writing this post, my cousin asked if I wanted to go to lunch, and we got together and spoke of Spock and "Star Trek," and though I'm sure it was baffling and/or irritating for the diners around us, I quite enjoyed our conversation.*  I hope many, many other fans like me took some time to remember Leonard Nimoy today, and the contribution to our psyches and entertainments and passions.

Here is an image from my favorite episode of "Star Trek," "Amok Time:"

You may recall that as the episode when Spock undergoes the Pon Farr, the burning of the blood when a Vulcan must mate . . .  or die.  Spock defies Starfleet orders (and those of his captain), taking the ship to his homeworld to meet his would-be mate (who desires another man), and coldly pits her paramour Spock against Captain Kirk in order to win her affections.  Unable to control himself, it appears Spock has murdered Kirk, and must go back to the Enterprise, where he will resign his commission and submit to being court-martialed.  The Vulcan leader, T'Pau, gives him the standard farewell greeting ("Live long and prosper"), to which Spock says, "I shall do neither, for I have killed my captain and my friend."

But when Spock returns to the ship, he discovers that Doctor McCoy gave Kirk an injection that would make him only appear to be dead.  At this revelation, Spock expresses a rare moment of happiness at the discovery that his friend, Jim, is still alive.

Well, there you go (I have to head to work now, having already made myself late).  Leonard Nimoy.  He has been, and always shall be, our friend.

Rish Tiberius Outfield

*I came up with a concept for another Abramsverse STAR TREK movie, in which the Enterprise encounters a doorway into the Mirror Universe, where the Romulan Nero never disrupted the timeline, and not only does the planet Vulcan still exist (albeit as a subjugated nation of the Terran Empire), but Christopher Pike is still alive and captain of the I.S.S Enterprise.  I know you can write and sell some fanfiction on Amazon nowadays, and I wonder if it would be worth it to try.

Live long and . . . feel good.

January 6th, 2006

Seems like just yesterday I was talking about the death of "Star Trek" (not sure if I did that here or not). It would be nice if that franchise were to come back in some way.

Today I worked on a commercial for Aleve. Commercials are nice because they usually pay more than films or TV shows. But this was a special commercial, to me, at least.

I'm going to make a confession to you . . . something I think I've only told one other person: my father is Keyser Sose.

No, actually, the confession is, the reason I first signed up to be an extra, was so I could be on "Star Trek." There was some kind of Star Trek FAQ I discovered around 2000, and it mentioned that to be an extra on "Star Trek," you had to register with Central Casting. So the moment I got fired from whatever job I held at the time (it was neither the first nor the last time I'd be fired), I went on down to Burbank to register with Central Casting and qualify to go boldly where . . . well, you know.

Thinking back, I guess "Voyager" was the only Trek on TV, but that show was quite difficult to get on because its premise necessitated that there be the same extras week after week (much like "Lost" is now, I suppose). I never got close to being on that show, and when "Enterprise" started up, I think I had already moved on to a new (and menial) job. I guess there was NEMESIS--I know a couple of guys who were extras on that--but it too came after I'd stopped doing extra work.

I'll admit that my love for "Star Trek" has waned in recent years (that's easier than admitting that I love "Star Trek," I suppose), but I was quite excited when I found out I would be playing a guy at a Star Trek convention for this commercial. It was shooting down at the Long Beach Convention Center, and it was another big call of around two hundred people.

"If you have a Star Trek or Sci-Fi costume, wear it!" the information line announced (the Aleve people must have made some deal with Paramount). Sadly, the closest I have is a Doctor Frank-N-Furter costume my mother made me for Halloween two years back. And even if that qualified, I've gotten much too fat to put on the fishnets again.

I did get a STAR TREK: NEMESIS t-shirt for attending the opening of that worst-of-all-Trek-films*, but I have kept it in the trunk of my car alongside a pair of torn pants, extra socks, underwear, shoes with a hole in one, and a big bottle of cheap cologne. So I dug it out, ironed it, and wore it to the shoot.

I was one of only a half-dozen or less who actually wore Trek-related clothes. The rest wore normal clothing or Wardrobe provided a vintage Trek t-shirt, an ill-sized uniform (though there were two hot girls they squeezed into form-fitting jumpsuits), or a generic Sci-Fi outfit. There was also one Klingon, one Ferengi, one . . . what were they called? Like Major Kira, one Vulcan, and one Borg. These trademarked aliens were semi-professionally done, and all were paid extra to be made up that way.

Most memorably, however, was a fat, balding guy with sideburns and the most ridiculously tacky Seventies Buck Rogers/Flash Gordon-type space robe on. He looked so indescribably gay (sorry, I searched for a more appropriate word and found none) that in the end, I had to draw him, rather than describe him. I put him with his arms outstretched, ribbons of sunlight coming from his chubby head. "San Dexter, Patron Saint of Geeks and Nerds," I christened him. Hopefully, he'll catch on in some way and I can light votive candles to him next time a superhero flick comes out or I feel the need to put on WRATH OF KHAN.

I've only been to one Star Trek convention ever, but let me tell you, there were more hot babes in ONE SEAT at today's mock convention than EVER attended a real convention. To be fair, I'm sure the male attendees were exponentially handsomer at today's gathering also.** I'd say that only one in five of the extras was "appropriately" dressed, and was informed that only those pre-selected, Union extras, will actually be seen in the commercial.

The ad tells of one Leonard Nimoy, who, due to muscle ache and/or arthritis, is unable to repeatedly make a certain gesture that he made famous. But here comes Aleve, a glorious medication that does wonders for his sore hands, and when he comes on stage before his anxious fans, he's able to spread his fingers and drive us into a frenzy of elated, almost orgasmic, appreciation. And that's it.

Nimoy looks good for his age (though not quite as spry as the great William Shatner) and came out time and time again do his scene. While I'm sure Aleve paid him a princely--even obscene--sum, he carried himself with a quiet dignity (that Shatner has never seemed to need) and was impressive in his patience and ability to laugh at himself.

We weren't required to do much but stand, applaud, pause, then erupt in applause. Because there weren't enough of us to fill the convention center, we had to move to various sections of the auditorium, to be comped together in post-production. It took a while, but it was actually one of the easier shoots I've been on. And there were many familiar faces, including my friend Hagopian (Mark). Not to mention the hot chicks and Nimoy himself.

We didn't even have to work that late in the day, and I had enough time to go see MUNICH afterward. Today's commercial may be the closest I get to fulfilling my aspiration to work on "Star Trek." It sure beats working for a living, that much I know.

Rish Tiberius Outfield


*Yes, worse than THE FINAL FRONTIER.

**At the con I attended, I was disturbed, rather than elated, to find that I was among the more attractive convention-goers in the audience. Yes, me.