I'm Gonna Be in Ten Forward Getting Drunk

There was a Star Trek: Enterprise marathon on today. I didn’t watch any of it for a number of reasons. First, I didn’t know it was on until 9:45 p.m. Second, I’ve already seen all of them. And D, Enterprise is my least favorite Star Trek incarnation. It did, however, get me thinking about the nature of the premise of Star Trek and how ridiculous it is. The United Federation of Planets is a utopian society where all the women are thin with big boobs and only wear clothes that are tight, unless it’s a skirt in which case it’s short. Everyone is totally focused on the greater good so the hooker gear doesn’t really matter. The men are still your run of the mill slobs with spare tires – yes I’m talking about you Riker. What I want to see is Star Trek: Slacker. I want to see the lazy bastards, aka the vast majority of humanity, who aren’t motivated by a carrot but only by a stick. I want to see, “So Sub-Commander T’pol, how badly do you want to be Commander T’pol?” “Lt. Dax, I need help with my Captain’s log.” I want to see the captain who’s two months away from retirement say, “Hell no, I’m not going into the Neutral Zone. Send that dumbass Picard. I will be cataloguing the effects of doing jack squat for the next two months, after which you can send the U.S.S. George Costanza anywhere you want.” Where is Ensign Kissass-Saveass? “Hey, it was the Klingon. You know what they're like.” What’s funny is that Gene Roddenberry got it right the first time. Jim Kirk new he’s was out there all by himself and not getting paid, so as far as he was concerned he’d make up the rules as he went along and tag as much booty as he possibly could. The only person to ever screw with Kirk twice was Khan, and he was a genetically enhanced mucho macho hombre dressed in fine Corinthian leather.