Star Trek: I Grow Weary; Star Trek: I Mourn


It’s been for weeks since I started reviewing every episode, in order, of Star Trek: The Next Generation for my article on its portrayal of a post-capitalist society.  Back in those days they did 26 45-minute episodes per season.  I’ve gotten through 6 ½ seasons; that’s 169 hours of watching.  I hope they pay me a shit load of money for this article.  What does “shit load” come out to per hour? 


After Roddenberry died, the pure ideals deteriorated a bit in the writers’ room.  Beginning somewhere in the middle of season 5, I started seeing so many phaser fights, fist fights, plots, conspiracies; so much spying and war-mongering and violent sects that I started to get nauseous.  Where is the cooperative society that was the basis of the vision?  The society explained by Roddenberry to Frakes at his auditions: “where no one is hungry and every child can read.”?


Worse than that, so much worse, the worst in fact:  the writers had the nerve, the stupidity,  the deliberate flouting of Gene’s vision, the pure backwardness of empty reptilian brains, to actually write a Jesus-like Klingon man who represented the coming back to life, the resurrection, of a mythological religious leader.  And Worf bought into it!  I grew angry and smashed my nice new 27” iMac. Its formerly glassy screen lies in pieces in a blue plastic box at the curbside. 


Fuck you people!  Roddenberry was explicity an atheist.  Where did you get the presumption?  Fuck you Cee Loo, who deliberately distorted the words of John Lennon: “…and NO religions, too” into “…and ALL religions, too.”  I hate you, I hate you.  Make your own shitty religious art; don’t ruin the few good examples we have of evolved art.


Star Trek, I don’t know if I can finish watching you.  I cry at the violation.  You are raped.  Can you recover?

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