Star Trek: The Next Generation (or Next Gen, as it will always be known to me) is one of the formative shows of my childhood. In my memory, every time I snuck through the family room after I was supposed to be in bed, my parents were watching one of three programs: Next Gen, Poirot, or Nick at Nite reruns of The Mary Tyler Moore Show.
If you are anything like me -- and you are -- you watched Galaxy Quest at least four times this weekend. You already know that it is commonly referred to as "the greatest Star Trek film of all time," that Takei loved it despite initial misgivings, that Tony Shaloub's stoner subplot was imperfectly cut to get a PG rating, and that David Mamet (!) thinks it's one of the most structurally perfect movies ever made. You've read…
Previously on Femslash Friday: The Young Avengers. Star Trek's greatest appeal, if you talk to the nerds who are really into it, is its bold embrace of a post-scarcity structure. In Star Trek, technology has allowed humanity to earnestly and fully eliminate sexism, racism, poverty, even extreme weather disasters or pollution. Every single structural problem on Earth is truly gone forever, they're all really gone, and now humanity is doing the only thing…
The strong woman did a bunch of roundhouse flips across the bar and kicked me right in the face. "That's what I think of you," she said, kicking me a bunch more. "Sexually, you're real indiscriminate, which I don't respect, and your code of honor is just balls." Then she shook my hand. "I guess we have to be teammates." "I guess we do," I said, then checked out her body, because even though I'm…
Stardate: I don't fucking know. This isn't the Captain's Log, it isn't an anybody's log, so excuse me if I don't situate myself in time by coordinating with the music of the goddamn spheres or the last time Betelgeuse fucked the Milky Way or whatever. Pardon the ever-loving cockshit out of me for marking time by carving Roman numerals -- fucking yes Roman numerals, as in Rome, as in Earth, as in where human beings are supposed to…
I am going to keep this relatively short, because it involves two things that, at times, have limited circles: Star Trek and LGBT things.
Deep Space Nine is the gayest Star Trek.
I say this as a queer male, not as someone who uses that word like junior high school kids use it. After all, I became quite used to a particular homonym for French cigarettes and bundles of sticks in my youth,
Shing Yin Khor's last cartoon for The Toast was a thought-provoking exploration of racial identity, as opposed to this one, which is straight-up about trying to get off on a stuffed tribble.
During its legendary first five-year mission under Captain James T. Kirk, the USS Enterprise gave a start to some of the most well-known and well-decorated officers in all of Starfleet. Several of those now-famous officers were women: who doesn't know the names Nyota Uhura, Christine Chapel, Janice Rand? They stand as an example and inspiration to women young and old throughout the known universe. However, while they are all undoubtedly outstanding Starfleet officers, they were…
This, the finest hostess gift ever, was acquired in Newburg, Ontario, from an artist who had despaired of ever selling it.
Let us reflect on his stained-glass visage, left lonely for years on a card table while others picked out pictures of flowers and cats, and discuss our week.