Elvis has left the Chapel

“I am going to quit my job, become a lawyer and do pro-bono work for the NRA.”

Which just shows what strange things you will hear at a wedding (thanks, Dave). By the way, Dave openly admits that he likes monogamy. He did this in front of his wife, which is always a smart place to admit such things!!

In the last two weeks I have married off two of my dearest friends. It was not with some degree of trepidation that I attended these events. Not because I disagree with each person's choice as spouse and life-partner, but rather because I am single.

Apparently, since my palm is about to turn red and start blinking, people feel obligated to make statements along the lines of, “Well, now we just need to find someone for you, eh?”

This presupposes several things, all of which I find irritating (wait, Rob irritated?!? What's this? What's this!?!). First, it supposes that in order to have a full and rounded life, you must be married. Second, it supposes that in some way that my own efforts at finding a companion are somehow lacking. Finally, it supposes that I WANT TO BE MARRIED RIGHT NOW!

Well, boys and girls, I don't.

That's not to say that if the right girl comes along, and she lets me date her, and lets me hold her hand in public, that perhaps, someday, some where, she might even concede to marry me. I don't know she would. All I really offer is a quirky sense of humor and the ability to add sarcasm to otherwise innocuous situations.

But she might.

And is she does, then she should take note now!

At each wedding I wore very heavy and warm clothing (note to self, DO NOT wear heavy and warm clothing in the SUMMER). I walked through the receiving lines (apparently this is a Utah concept and is not even know beyond the Zion Curtain) wherein I met people that I can only guess are amazing and truly interesting (they did make the “Receiving Line” cuts, which I didn't!!). However, I didn't get any phone numbers or emails, so I am at a loss as to who these people actually were.

But prior to all this was the amazing amount of prep-work that goes on behind the scenes, and up to and through the actual wedding and subsequent reception. I received interesting calls for assistance from getting tuxedo jackets, to carrying center-pieces, to taking photos (my thumb is more often photographed then a bride and groom's face!!) to sacrificing fermented grains to the gods with a bride-to-be. This last I was more then capable of aiding, as normally, giving Rob responsibility is a lot like using a cheese-grater for facial scrub: interesting at first, but mostly painful. (Eric & Win will note there's another, far more humorous version of this analogy.)

So what does that mean to me and my potential bride-to-be?

It means that if I am getting married (and that would be more properly IF) it will be at the Hunk-a-hunk 'O Burnin' Love Chapel in Las Vegas. Originally, God's messenger on Earth, Elvis Presley (or one of his appointed), would have conducted this. But apparently, in an effort to remove much of the cheese of Las Vegas, Elvis can no longer marry people, but he can stand as a witness.

That's not to say that there won't be a reception.

There will be. A big one. A BIG ONE!! But there will be no heavy and warm clothing, no receiving line, and no cake.

Ok, wait . . . there will be cake. There HAS to be cake.

And we can dance, if we want to. We can leave your friends behind.

The way I have it figured (and since my accounting class I now have two columns of figures that don't add up instead of just one!!), the whole point behind a wedding is to celebrate publicly the mutual exchange of loves vows between two people. I won't go into the anthropological reasons that this is a good thing (and there's a whole place full of 'em), but rather just revel that a marriage is a triumph for romance (or should be).

So, in my quirky and sarcastic world, the reception should be bigger and brighter then the wedding, which should be small, intimate, and above all abridged in a Memphis accent. Being in Vegas, this shouldn't be a problem. The reception should include casual dress, mass quantities of food and alcohol. Sound like anywhere you know if in the State of Nevada? No hints, but it rhymes with “beg us” and “lost wages”.

So, as a man I am putting my foot down on this wedding business.

It's Vegas or nothing.

Though nothing may equate to, “Whatever you want dear.” And I am working on the smile when I say that.

It's already quite convincing.

I Am A Trekker

I am a Trekker.

No, this isn't a coming out-of-the-Trek-closet article. As you may recall from the last article, Jase asked me to do something comparing and contrasting the Star Trek captains. Now, while that initially sounded like a writing assignment from my days at Eastern New Mexico University (oh, if only) really it was a test. Could I do it, and not sound like a geek.

No.

Any serious Trekker (not to be confused with Trekkie, which is really a derogatory slang) who could write such an article knows far too much about the Trek Universe to ever sound like a casual observer. If you do sound like a casual observer, then every serious Trekker will mock you and make fun of you. That's just how the world works: the world mocks Trekkers, Trekkers mock the world.

I first knew that I was a Trekker when my good friend Eric Lahti leaned over to me during a directory class finals scene at Eastern New Mexico University, and, at the most gripping and most heart-wrenching scene of Night Mother, while the two main characters were sitting back to back, whispered, "Spoooooooccccckkk."

For those of you who didn't laugh then you don't know and you may (happily!?!) consider yourself not a Trekker. I, being a Trekker, did know and did get the joke. Anyone who knows me, and my propensity for laughing with great magnitude and for long duration at even the more modestly funny jokes, can now picture me, during this very toughing scene, desperately trying not to laugh.

Eric was highly amused.

But the joke was funny for more reasons then just the moment and my inability to laugh quietly.

Now in its third decade, the Star Trek Franchise is probably the most successful failure of all time. Gene Roddenberry's brainchild originally only lasted three seasons, and ran the third season only because of the rare success of a fan-letter campaign (which has since been the bane of television executives who have ever dropped the axe on a show). But we aren't going to talk about Star Trek history. You can get that at the drop of a hat from any Trekker nerd/geek walking down the street.

HELL NO!!

When Roddenberry wrote and filmed his pilot "The Cage" (which would later be re-edited into the only two part original series episode "The Menagerie"), he had a different captain of the Enterprise in mind. I wouldn't lie. Captain Christopher Pike as played by Jeffrey Hunter was a lot of what Captain Kirk would later be, though not so overly dramatic with his soliloquies or his hormones (Must . . . sleep . . . with a female . . . of . . . everyspecieies; Spoooccckk!). Interestingly enough, Majel Barret (later Majel Roddenberry) played "Number One" and Pike even said the later Picard catch-phrase of "Engage."

Ahh, the trivia.

But Hunter opted out of the second pilot ordered by NBC, and William Shatner stepped in as James T. Kirk (one bonus point if you can give his middle name -- Kirk's not Shatner's). Kirk was brash, had a great smirking smile, shot from the hip and could throw a punch to the belly, a judo chop to the neck and a double-footed kick better then nearly anyone. You could almost hear him say, "Damn the photon torpedoes . . . " (though it would have been more stilted) whenever the Enterprise was under attack from Romulans, Klingons and various other communist-paralleling aliens! Life for Kirk was pretty simple. He had the Prime Directive, a few other Star Fleet regulations, but nothing so set in stone that with a wink and a smile he couldn't be walking through a set of swishing doors and onto his next adventure. Kirk was like that little terror next door who is given commend of a faster-than-light vessel capable of destroying an entire planet (or several, depending on the episode). And like any neighborhood-cum-future Dennis the Menace, Kirk knew how to use his expensive, high-tech 23rd century slings and arrows of outrageous fortune to great effect, and all this with a torn shirt and slightly mussed hair (it's NOT a toupee). Kirk was a cowboy in a cowboy age, the Enterprise was his horse, and the universe was his sunset.

But then the series was cancelled.

But then The Motion Picture was released.

And then Came The Next Generation.

And that waiter: Jean Luc.

I won't cover the same well-groomed territory other writers have already pounded to dust. I won't mention how Picard, despite being French, had an English accent that put Richard Burton to shame. I won't mention that for the first three seasons Picard was pretty much a self-appointed woosey, second only to Wesley Crusher, relying on diplomacy and compromise as Kirk would have relied on his flying double-footed kick and a phaser set on random. You would have though Picard was a sewing machine repair man with all his delegating ("Make it sew!"). He was more concerned with rules, that silly Prime Directive and other silly Federation Regulations then he was with getting down and dirty on an away mission.

Then, and sad as I am to say this, Roddenberry died, and we got to see Picard through a darker and less well-maintained tricorder (more bonus points if you can tell me what a tricorder measures and records!!). Picard took a Gnosican knife through his heart . . . and laughed! He took on Klingons twice his size and beat them to a pulp. He became a lover, an artist, he sucked the marrow out of life. Picard broke rules and broke hearts (ok, one heart, but he broke it good!!). Picard was an American icon even before the show started, but he became worthy of the legacy of Trek when the show ended.

But with Rick Berman at the con, and Brannon Braga at the helm controls, Trek would not end with The Next Generation.

HELL NO!


Deep Space Nine (DS9 for you Trekkers) tried, and succeeded in breaking many of the established rules for Star Trek. First, there was no warp drive for engineers to scream about, there was no hopping around the galaxy (which is, as we know, a game for the young, doctor). And, most importantly, there was no captain.

That's right, I wouldn't lie. Commander Benjamin Sisko (Avery Brooks) was . . . well, a commander (hence the title). Further, unlike his predecessor captains, Sisko was a widower with a son. Yes, yes, Kirk had a son too, but Sisko KNEW ABOUT IT! Sisko, as defined by Brooks, was much like his earlier roles as Hawk in Spencer for Hire and (oddly) Hawk. He was from a neighborhood where "mother" was only half a word and was usually preceded in regards to Brooks' character by "he", "is", "a", and "bad". And we knew that this meant he was oh-so-good at running DS9. Originally interpreted as a kind of punishment for his attitude, Sisko, almost eagerly found hiumself at the center of controversy with his sing-song style of line delivery. What was better was he took a more John Wayne/Captain Kirk attitude towards everyone while still carrying the Picard level or responsibility. When he found himself forced into a fisticuffs match with Q, he hit him. Hard. Q, quite stunned, remarked, "You hit me. Picard never hit me." To which Sisko, dripping malice and meaning replied, "I'm not Picard." And he wasn’t'

But the fun doesn't stop there.

HELL NO!

(Hmmm . . . I can almost hear y'all saying that in the background.)

Berman barely let the ratings get cold from DS9 before introducing the world to Star Trek: Voyager and Captain Kathryn Janeway (Kate Mulgrew). That's right ladies and gentlemen, the captain of Voyager had the same first name as the actress who played her . . . I mean what coincidence! And Mulgrew and Janeway have the exact same number of letters!! Oh, yeah, and she's female. Driving jokes aside, this was in stride with a great deal of ground that Star Trek always seemed to be trying to break. Again, I won't go into the history, and it's really not important, except that it happened and Janeway was an amazing result. With even more depth then Picard or Sisko (and far more then Kirk), Janeway had real emotions that not only tied her to her ship (because we all know that captain's first love is his/her ship) but also to the people of her crew. Chakotay wasn't just Janeway's first officer; he was her friend. But even more then that, Janeway was the embodiment of what a real captain would be like. She was obsessed. Obsessed with survival, but not at any cost. Obsessed with the well being of her crew. Obsessed with Star Fleet's mission and goals and carrying those on, though there was no high power to immediately report to. And all this with great hair. Yes, the balding (whether on purpose or by choice) of the previous Treks was ended the moment Janeway said, "Engage" (which she never did).

And now, now my friends, we enter a new era in the saga of Star Trek. This time, and yet again in an effort to break the mold and boldly go where no entertainment franchise has gone before, Berman will introduce to the world Star Trek: Enterprise. "Back to where it all began" and "The final frontier has a new beginning" are the taglines, and Captain Johnathon Archer (shoot for the stars?!?) will be portrayed by boyishly good-looking (rats, there's that rampant gay gene again Bruce!) Scott Bakula from Quantum Leap fame. In this pre-Federation universe, will this captain be more like Kirk in his blatant disregard for class and culturual customs? Will he seek compromise and diplomacy like Picard, as he boldly goes where, truly, no Federation captain has gone before? Will he put on the bold face of the future Star Fleet, while at the same time being obsessed with exploration and those ideals that will eventually, ultimately, amazingly become the Federation?

HELL YES!

(Caught ya on that one, didn't I!?! Well . . . didn't I??)

As audiences and Trekkers alike have seen, each new incarnation (I always wanted to work that into an editorial) of Star Trek captain has been a better version of the previous one. Sometimes going a little too far on the improvements, but those are updated in later patches and upgrades. From Kirk 1.0 to Picard 1.2a to Sisko 2.1 to Janeway 3.0, each captain (or commander) has been a slightly tweaked and supped-up version of their predecessor.

As it should be.

And so long as the series and the franchise itself prosper, the American icons of its captains will also live long and prosper too.