William Shatner and the villainous Leonard Nimoy

Aside from the overwhelming sense of how much William Shatner misses his friend, another takeaway from his biography Leonard is how long and hard Leonard Nimoy worked until he achieved success. Unlike William Shatner, whose leading man qualities allowed him to make a decent income fairly early on, Leonard Nimoy scrambled to make a living. His move to Los Angeles did help him pick up work in TV and film. Sadly, the parts he got were largely one-offs, and usually limited to just a couple lines of dialogue. 

Shatner paints a poignant description of Nimoy's work on projects filmed on location. The crew and cast of these poorly funded productions often literally had to pick up their equipment, and run from one location to another, just to film the next line or so of dialogue. Far from being concerned about continuity, or matching up backgrounds, all that mattered was getting enough natural light to complete the scene!

Even more surprising, Leonard Nimoy's looks largely relegated him to bad guy roles prior to Star Trek. Far from being cast as a wise intellectual like Mr. Spock, or the kind and compassionate man he was, all-too-often Nimoy was cast as a thug, a hired gun, or some other minor villain. So Nimoy struggled to find a way to make his bad guy roles more distinctive. As he was a smoker, he often suggested to the director that he could smoke in the scene. Surely the way he smoked a cigarette would distinguish him from his fellow bad guys, or say something about his villainous character?

"Sorry," the director or TV producer would always say. "We can't have a villain smoking cigarettes if the TV broadcasters pick up commercials from a particular cigarette brand. We don't want to send a message that only villains smoke cigarettes. Or worse still, that villains smoke the sponsors' brand!" In an age when the virtues of smoking marijuana seems to be celebrated by popular culture, and advertised in so many mediums, it's interesting to look back, and see how our perceptions change over time.

Leonard Nimoy would eventually find success through Star Trek, but that would take him fifteen-or-so years of solid acting. Nimoy continually took classes in acting, and any other skill he thought could contribute to making him a better actor. And eventually, his hard work paid off. Like Shatner, Gene Roddenberry invited Nimoy to his new TV show, and handed him the choice role of Mr. Spock on a plate. Someone had finally noticed Leonard Nimoy, and believed in him enough to give him a major part. Even more incredible, Roddenberry  fought to keep Nimoy on as Mr. Spock when the studio heads wanted to get rid of that pointy-eared Vulcan. 

Why would the studio heads dislike the character of Mr. Spock, you ask? Because he looked too evil, or villainous! That's why.

Dragon Dave

Star Trek & Phil K. Dick on Enlightenment

"Star Trek: The Motion Picture" reaches its climax with the vast alien entity V'ger in orbit over Earth.  V'ger sends out blasts of energy, which will destroy all carbon-based life on Earth unless Captain Kirk can supply the answers it seeks.  As a machine intelligence, V'ger cannot comprehend the validity of any other form of life.  This is a theme prevalent within Science Fiction, and is further explored in Hard SF author Gregory Benford's Galactic Center series.

At least V'ger is not arrogant.  It recognizes that it was created, and yearns to unite with its creator.  When Kirk supplies the proof that it was created by Humans, V'ger shorts out its circuitry, so that the last portion of the information it requires will be delivered by a Human.  

This time, unlike with the Klingons aboard their ships, the Humans aboard the space station Epsilon 9, and the Deltan navigator Ilia, V'ger unites with the consciousness of a living, organic being (one wholly different from itself), without destroying the other in the process.  

Up until now, V'ger has recorded carbon-based life: it has stored it like we would scan a document or photo into a computer.  It has analyzed the data gleaned from this process.  But only through becoming partly Human--only through uniting its inorganic consciousness with an intelligent, organic one--can it truly enhance its understanding of the universe.  Just as occurs with us--when we throw down our mental barriers and accept another person's viewpoint as equally relevant and insightful as our own--V'ger's paradigm, formerly limited, is blown wide open.  As Marvel writer Marv Wolfman channels the Biblical book of Genesis to suggest what is going on with V'ger, perhaps I could also reference St. Paul's epistle of 1 Corinthians.  In chapter 13, verse 11, Paul suggests how a person's consciousness can be enhanced by dedicating one's life to loving others.  "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put childish things behind me."  And in verse 12: "Now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face."   

In A Scanner Darkly, Phillip K. Dick compares how a human views the world to how a computer scans its surroundings.  He also suggests that St. Paul would not have studied his appearance in a glass mirror, but rather in polished metal that was incapable of generating accurate reflections.  

Through uniting with someone else whose life at first seemed completely different (and even opposed) to its own, V'ger is reborn.  It is now ready to explore the universe again.  This time, it will gain a fuller understanding of everyone and everything it encounters.  Likewise, Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy have each experienced transformation.  Before they lived separately, and devoted themselves to smaller, more individual tasks.  Now each can fully reengage with his former comrades and explore the universe again.  Perhaps colorist Marie Severin hints at the rebirth of the three in the above panel, where for an instant, the blackness of space is banished, and the U.S.S. Enterprise passes through a realm of light.

Sadly, Paramount Studios booted Gene Roddenberry out the door after the movie failed to bring in the projected revenue, and in "Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan," Kirk has lost the enlightenment he previously gained.  All too often, Human existence seems like a journey into darkness, illuminated only by occasional moments of clarity.  It would have been interesting to see what a more enlightened Kirk, freed from the bonds and limitations of the past, could have accomplished.  But then, we would have missed out on Khan controlling Chekov's mind from vast distances with an insect that crawled into the Russian's ear, exploding planets, Kirk's handwringing over missing out on a relationship with a son he never knew existed, and a Genesis planet with an entire ecosystem that is created--in an instant--from the dispersed particles of a nebula.  And all that would have been too cool and exciting to have missed out on, right?

Dragon Dave

Related Internet Links
Bible Apps: 1 Corinthians 13
A meditation on allusions in P. K. Dick's A Scanner Darkly

Installing a Microwave Oven in 210 Days: Part 4

Measure twice, then cut once.
Repeat as necessary.
(Or: Try and try again until you finally succeed).

After watching the Formula One Hungarian Grand Prix with breakfast, we began our day by relocating one of the brackets we had installed yesterday, as my wife realized that we had set it in the exhaust fan area.  So, we couldn’t use that stud in the wall for support.  Hopefully, all our little brackets, set into the drywall and the half-inch sides of the Oak cabinets, would support our new over-the-stove microwave.  After all, it only weighed half as much as the one we had taken out.

Then we set up shop outside.  We dragged over a duck-board garden bench we made many years ago, and used it for our workbench.  We got our drills and our jigsaw, and I finally found my father’s old crosscut saw in the garage.  We measured where we would need to cut the melamine for the shelf.  As the screw heads protruded from the brackets, we had to account for that.  I tried my best to remember the visual reference for where the blade would cut.  Then I switched on the old saw and made my first crosscut. 

When we tried the board for width, it was too long.  As it turned out, I had allowed too much for the width of the blade.  So I trimmed off a thin slice.  Still, it wouldn’t quite fit.  So we made a third cut.  Hooray: the board slid onto the brackets nicely.  We checked our initial measurements for width, and decided we needed to reduce the shelf’s width by an additional 1/8” due to the protruding screw heads.  So we took the board back out outside, measured, and I ripped the ¾” excess off the board.  Then we took it inside to check how it fit.  I might have cut off a 1/16th too much, but no one would notice when we pressed the 1”x2” Oak trim back in front.  

I have no idea how old my father's Skil saw is.
Newer models tantalize with more features, and
I've often thought of replacing it, but I never have.
Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever
even changed the blade.

Using our template, we marked the drill holes for the upper support screws and the power cord.  Then we drew out the rectangle in back for where the metal frame above the microwave’s exhaust fan would protrude into the shelf.  We used the jigsaw to cut the opening, took the shelf inside to rest on the brackets, marked our screw-holes, then went back outside and drilled those.  Then we set it back inside on the brackets, and installed a screw at each corner to hold the shelf in place.  

We lifted the microwave, slipped it between the cabinets, and set it onto its lower support tabs.  The microwave refused to sit back against the frame.  Although we had followed the template, it seemed we needed to increase the width of the exhaust-fan rectangle by ¼”. 

By now it was noon.  We broke for lunch, warming up leftover pizza in our old countertop microwave oven.  We watched a first season episode of “The Six Million Dollar Man” while we ate.  In the story, written by D. C. Fontana (who had served as Gene Roddenberry's assistant and also wrote episodes of "Star Trek"), Steve Austin helps train Kelly, a female astronaut (played by Lee Major’s then wife Farrah Fawcett Majors) for her first space flight.  When the capsule develops a fault and must dock at Skylab, the hatch refuses to open, trapping Kelly and her injured copilot inside the capsule.  So Steve heads a rescue effort, and uses his bionic strength to open the hatch.  Then he goes outside to effect repairs so the doctor he brought up can perform surgery on the injured astronaut.  Unfortunately, it seems as though Steve's bionic limbs and eye don’t have sufficient radiation shielding: his vision goes fuzzy several times, and he suffers episodes of shaking and reduced strength.  Thus, when all four return to Earth in Steve’s capsule, Kelly must pilot the unbalanced and overweight craft manually, something she’s unprepared for. 

After pizza and a Brownie-Fudge Klondike for dessert, we felt more stiff and tired than before.  I mused that, working outside, the sun’s UV radiation must be sapping our strength, just as it had Steve’s.  My wife shook her head.  It wasn’t ultraviolet that was to blame, but microwaves.  Oh well.  Time to go back outside, and resume our work.

Hoping we can finish in the afternoon,

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entry

Bionic Dreams

One Year Later: Part 2

In my first blog entry, “The Blogging Wars: My Hope,” I essentially asked three questions: 1) Why should I start a blog now?; 2) Why should you read my blog?; and 3) What am I passionate about?  In "One Year Later: Part 1" I addressed why I began this journey.  In regards to the second question, I find myself in a quandary.  Why should you read my blog?  Is what I’m doing that significant or relevant to your life?  So next I’ll tackle the third question, “What am I passionate about?” in the hopes that wrestling with the one will shine a light upon the other.

As I mentioned in my very first entry, “The Blogging Wars: My Hope,” writing instructors seem to always offer two pieces of advice: Write what you know, and write what you’re passionate about.  While I may find myself confounded in other aspects of my life, in this area I feel not the slightest confusion or hesitation.  I love great fiction.  Heck, I love Fiction period.  TV, movies, books: whether well-executed or poorly-made, I love them all.  Every story—in every form--represents an attempt by the creator(s) to transform a flickering, translucent idea into a substantial, fleshed-out narrative.  All art is subjective, and the aspects of a story that resonate with me may have little, if anything, in common with the artist’s conscious intent.  Thus fiction functions like a bridge or a summit conference between people who don’t know each other and arrive with contrary worldviews.  When maker and recipient meet through the intermediary of Fiction, they may speak different languages, they may not understand each other, they may even find they don’t really like each other.  Nevertheless, when they part, they possess a similar experience and fresh insights.  Both return home enriched and refreshed by the time spent together.  Communication.  Enlightenment.  Enjoyment.  That is the power of Fiction.

Our attempts to classify and define often limit our potential.  With regard to literature, we slap labels on that which we love so that we may more readily find the type of story we desire.  Mystery.  Science Fiction.  Fantasy.  We all know such categories are misleading.  I suspect the comedy elements of Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum novels resonate far more strongly with most readers than the “Mystery” or plot elements of the latest bail-jumper she’s attempting to capture.  Novels such as Galileo’s Dream by Kim Stanley Robinson and Drood by Dan Simmons might as easily be shelved under Historical Fiction as SF, Fantasy, or Horror.  Dean Koontz and Stephen King: forget trying to classify them.  Due to those writers’ popularity, bookstores will place their titles anywhere they can, regardless of the genre elements a particular work contains.  Yet regardless of how popular an author is, we try to limit his power over our lives.  In the case of those above, we slap an emotive word on each book: Fiction.  What is Fiction cannot be fact, can it?  How can Fiction contain truth, when we label such “factual” books as Nonfiction?  Isn’t Fiction, by its very definition, inferior to “Fact?”

One thing that has grown clear to me over the past year of blogging is how much Fiction has influenced my life.  Immersing myself inside the novels of Dr. Gregory Benford has reinforced how science fiction and spirituality often walk hand in hand.  Reflecting on the stories of Robert Silverberg has reminded me how fallible all humans are, of how the similarity we share exceeds our external differences, and how much we all need each other.  Peering into “The Cage” has given me greater appreciation for the depth underlying the original Enterprise crew, and helped me understand why many of Gene Roddenberry’s characters seem more substantial than most “real people” I have known.   Lastly (but not comprehensively), English Fiction drew me to visit England.  No “Facts” such as history, climate, or culture has ever lent me the strength to break through my comfort zone and vacation in another country.  “Facts” enhanced what Fiction had taught me, and helped me understand all that I experienced there, but the inescapable truth remains: I would not have devoted the additional time and money to such a trip, had not Fiction first tantalized me with the intriguing differences I would find there.

Last year, in more ways than one, I charted a new course for my life.  While I possess little more than ideas and hopes regarding my eventual journey, Fiction served as my compass, helping me navigate through unfamiliar territory.  More than that: to a great extent, Fiction powered the journey.  Much of whoever and whatever I will eventually become, and wherever I eventually end up, I owe to this tremendous resource.  Whether that makes me an insubstantial, inferior person, or merely more cognizant of my foundations, I do not know.  But while I travel, I know what drives me, what sustains me, what defines me and provides me with joy.

Yet I wonder: would I have realized all this, had I not opened myself to the potential of blogging?  Could Fiction have given me so much this past year, had I not immersed myself in its great works and reflected upon its power?  The surest way to kill love is to hoard it; the best way to feed a passion is to share it with others.  Sharing this passion in my blog this past year has enhanced my life in every way.  Looking forward to crafting each new blog entry has focused my efforts on my novel-writing: I believe I’ve written more Fiction in the past year than ever before, and feel as though what I’ve written is of better quality.  I’ve endured the long swim involved in finishing my rough draft.  I’ve battled the stronger currents of completing a line-by-line revision.  Now I face the churning rapids of enhancing and defining the settings, characters, history, and underlying assumptions of the novel.  Yet you know what?  I’m ready for it.

With greater confidence in my abilities, I set out on the next phase of my journey.  Still plagued by anxiety, I look forward to the coming adventure.

This essay will conclude with One Year Later: Part 3. 

Related Dragon Cache entries

A Fictional Role Model?

The Curiosity Factor

A Journey into English Fiction Part 1

When All Hope Seems Lost

The Curiosity Factor

In life, there are the curiosities and the mainstays.  The restaurants we occasionally visit versus our favorites, the friends we check in with every few months versus those we regularly hang out with, even the websites or blogs that are clicked on now and then versus those we read daily.  Often, we may not understand why one remains a mere curiosity while another ascends to become a favorite.  We just know that the latter somehow bonds more fully with us, adds more value to our lives, and as a result helps us better connect with the world around us.

In the case of Star Trek, we know why The Cage is a curiosity: we never had a chance to make it a mainstay.  Passed over by network executives, and given a mandate to make key crew changes, the revised Star Trek that Gene Roddenberry gave us, and with which we subsequently fell in love, concerned an Enterprise captained by James T. Kirk, and with the exception of Mr. Spock, an entirely different crew.  We may have seen excerpts from The Cage in the two episodes of The Menagerie, but most of us never saw The Cage until a decade or more after it was made.  Would we have fallen in love with Pike and company the way we did with his successors?  Sadly, we will never know, as we were never fed a steady diet of stories about them.  We never got to see the crew visit other worlds.  We never watched how Pike dealt with other crises.  We never saw Number One, Dr. Phil, and Pike’s yeoman develop as the series progressed.

Plot is character, and character is plot, as I believe the great author Stephen King once said.  While we can never know what other trials Pike and his crew would have faced, we do know that this original crew had great characters.  Captain Christopher Pike, having rediscovered his love of command, surely would have faced future dangers with dogged determination, and perhaps even good humor.  Number One would have kept the Enterprise running smoothly for Pike, and not weighed him (and us) down with tiresome complaints or unnecessarily dialogue.  Dr. Phil would have continued to dispense moral insights with his medicine, but probably without McCoy’s constant need to needle Mr. Spock for attempting to honor his Vulcan values.  And as for Mr. Spock...well, thankfully, at least we got to see how he developed.

Jews and Christians have their Apocrypha, investors have the commodities market, politicians even have their consciences (We hope!).  In fiction, we all have our curiosities, stories we may not fully understand nor utilize every day of our lives, but nonetheless influence us on an occasional basis.  Given its single-story status, The Cage can never be anything more than a curiosity.  Yet, after reflecting upon the story in so many (perhaps too many?) blog entries, I know I will walk more boldly into my own future, bolstered by how Captain Christopher Pike, the various members of his crew, and the Talosians have rubbed off on me.  I have come to realize what a wonderful curiosity I have found in the Star Trek pilot episode The Cage. 

Thank you, Gene Roddenberry, for creating such a fascinating story.