You Should Know: I Am A Spy

It's been sometime that I have operated under a guise protected by my journalistic integrities but truth submerged is a conscience's bitter burden. Confessional. I am indeed a spy, a plant, a splinterhead. For years I have continued my research in a phenomena that has sucked in millions of intelligent people into an odd singular vision. This is not about Scientology (could never operate the E meter properly -although in my 20's, I was approached several times to go to a "friendly dinner". Was I looking lost as I strained to count the number of floors of the Hyatt Hotel? My eyes would blur around 20 or 21 floors, and I would have to start counting again. However, this is about my searching for the answers of those that follow the...(insert gasp here)...the cult of Star Trek.

What is it about this hokey franchise that pulls in so many? Social outcasts that now have a club that accepts them? ($25 general admission, $150 Gold Admission, $249 touch Sir Patrick Stewart's head)Many years have I studied the writings and words of those that follow Spock and Shatner, viewing nearly 700 hours of cinematic propaganda, attending in disguise,(so difficult to conceal one's coolness) at what is called "conventions" but I choose to reveal as "The Conventions" I have eased into a transition from this self to one who can pass freely amongst those of pointy ears and shiny polyester uniforms. I do so knowing and accepting the risks of discovery. I can speak the language (not "do you know where the bathroom is", instead ask, "computer, show me the carbon waste extractor unit"), am down with the secret handshakes and advice, "don't drop out, beam up!". The importance of having one's own preferences as I
chose the dark themes of Deep Space Nine, espousing in depth about its first concept of how we should exist in linear time yet often are lost in one brutal moment in our lives. DS9's examination of religion in society was probed (good Star Trek word) further in the "re-imagined" Battlestar Galactica. On occasion and to the dismay of my wife, I have chosen to take my children undercover with me as to thicken my disguise, my commitment. My ruse, my chef's menu plan, my roux is very thick indeed.


Once in Los Angeles, did I not raise my hands together at the conclusion of lecture? Did I not play the part of the good Star Trekker when sharing the elevator with he, who is Chewbacca (no personal relation) in Star Wars, stumbled upon buckling legs and catching him- saving him from a fate or floor worse than Vader- look upon this giant of a once Wookie and think, you guys are so plot driven, not character crucial as the Treks? Off of me, hairy beast. And yet it is our ability to confront these deficiencies, and the drive that spurs us to overcome them...ah, in the role. Star Trek speak. To be or not to be, a geeky fop and in choosing so, to be a part of a wacked out cult. My conclusions are thus: this is a wacked out cult. I saw it in episode #122.

It is of course, best to be open/honest/full disclosure but some goods can take a bit of time to proof before this bread of truth has risen. Not unlike that secret sixth toe or third nipple that is eventually revealed, my sons are advised to cook their roux thoroughly before the meal is served; for the taste is bittersweet upon discovery, and future mates will attempt to exit really, really quick. Fortunately Maria knew the brave endeavor, this brave mission of exploration of seeking new answers and new ways, of boldly going where no....she knew I was undercover. Really. Research. Soon will come the year's biggest The Conventions in the USA where nearly 80% of every cast member of every Star Trek show will be present- in Vegas, home of Trek. My research would be enriched by this undertaking but this year, I think I will go to Seattle instead. As they say, live long and prosper, y'all.

Hey, it's not the Oh, there's hope for mankind stuff that I like about the Trek (because that's bogus- i can do without a third world war). I simply enjoy the production values and the better stories.