By JAMIE SHANKS of the Weyburn Review
This is the captain. Beam me up, man.
No, wait, don't beam me up. Cancel previous order. Transfer all power to the phaser banks instead and prepare to overload. That's right, set the controls for SELF-DESTRUCT, and hustle it up. Abandon ship if you wish; I, however, will remain on board until the end as a good captain should.
I hate to resort to such drastic measures, but I honestly don't know if I can put up with another night of having Captain Benjamin "My Name Rhymes with Disco" Sisko and his Deep Space Nine Flying Circus of Wormholes and Holodecks interrupt my regularly scheduled programming. I want to see the adventures of these boneheads like I want to watch the north end of a southbound elephant.
Now don't get me wrong. I happen to like the old Star Trek show as much as the next guy. (The next normal guy, I mean.) Saturday morning just isn't Saturday morning unless 1. Sam feeds Bugs a diet of hot lead and 2. William Shatner hauls off and plants his knuckles in some Klingon's teeth. Hey, I love Captain Kirk; he makes Wild Bill Hickok look like Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane. He's a man of blazing action who wouldn't order anyone punched out whom he wouldn't punch out himself. Trouble with a Romulan spy? One flying noodle kick to the head, coming up. Old buddy from the academy running amok with terrifying cosmic powers? I bet this phaser rifle will fix his hash. Blue-skinned alien babe needs some lovin'? Come get some, sweet cheeks. It's all in the line of duty. Shoot first, bed 'em down and ask Spock about it later.
Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, the entire Trek thing got way, way too big for its Starfleet-issue britches and became some sort of whacked cult. And it's out of control. For instance, why do we have Star Trek: Voyager when Star Trek: Deep Space Nine was already boring the average viewer into a state of suspended animation? Does human civilization really need two practically identical TV shows that - as far as I've been able to determine - each offer us exactly the same brand of brain-numbing B.S.?
"Captain Sisko! Tachyon field disruption level is now 677.2705 and there's a stochastic transhumance in the thoracic duct! The warp core is about to implode!"
"Red alert! Reverse the peristaltic flow and purge the toxopholite into a sub-space bronchial singularity, bosun!"
Shiver me timbers, what suspense! Bbbbb! One's spine cannot help but tingle from all the excitement and danger, barking of orders, whooping of sirens and so on. Now if only we had the tiniest understanding of what these clowns are talking about (Actually, I've often wondered what standard procedure is for, say, the ship's bartender during a 'red alert'. Shooters for a buck?) Excuse me while I yawn from the very depths of my being.
Mind you, what I know of these Star Trek shows is only learned from a few minutes of accidental exposure every now and then when my thumb cramps up on the remote at the wrong moment during my 100th lap around the dial. It's a bit like hitting that 'bankrupt' slot on Wheel of Fortune and losing your entire wad, but you've got to take your licks once in a while, I guess.
Bring on those Borgs, baby.
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