There’s a group. A secret society if you will, devoted to Shovelers. It’s called The Order of the Shovel and it’s a rather devoted group of people who… shovel. It’s somewhat exclusive, informal, erratically attended and there are three classifications. First, you’ve got the Blue Scoops. The Blue Scoops are people that eschew the metrosexual convenience and laziness of those who use a snowblower on their driveway and shovel their driveway themselves, considering it to often be a decent workout– sometimes a crazy workout! And it goes without saying that you shore up the edges and make it a neat job whenever possible. Mind you, there are some instances when snowblowers are deemed acceptable, as in medical (heart condition) or age (75 and over) limitations, or if your driveway is some crazy size like big enough for 30 cars (Richie Rich!). Although either of these scenarios disqualify you from being a Blue Scooper. This is considered the standard and most common level. When these folk get together, it’s maybe sandwiches, soda or beer and talk about snowstorms, how many feet they had to shovel, those type of stories. It’s all very amicable, jovial and low key. The mating is gentle.

Being part of the Green Scoopers signifies that you have a vocation involving constant, massive, shoveling, like say in a garden center, where you’re transferring rocks or pebbles, wood chips, soil, or maybe you’re in construction, etc. The Green Scoopers are usually a more intense bunch and in the group in easily the best shape of all. Lot of really cut guys, big guys or both. They also have to let off a little more steam, so their gatherings are a bit more wild in general. These alpha dudes have ranged from all night drinking contests, to feats of strength, to creating a fight club. The mating is aggressive.

Then you have the Red Scoopers. This is an eclectic bunch of loners and only some actually gravitate toward meetings. These are the guys who work in carnivals and zoos who shovel the elephant shit, –well any and all animal shit. They also shovel all the roadkill off the nation’s freeways and highways. As a hobby. When these individuals do get together, it’s often in the dark, lit only by whatever moon they have available. Little is said. The time is mostly spent drinking, sharing each other’s company and staring at whatever moon they have available. The mating is slow and silent.

The three groups don’t often mingle. But they’re out there. I thought you should know.

Now where the hell is the snow?

Let me back up a bit as I should really give details leading up to that. Several years ago, maybe 15 or 20, I went down to New Orleans. I’d been there before and for whatever reason, decided to go again. Well, the reason was probably the booze and the nightlife, if I’m being honest. My first trip there a decade earlier was with my wife and another couple, Mike and Pam, very old and dear friends. One of my most pleasant memories was starting at one end of Bourbon street, grabbing a giant punch drink called the Hurricane (in slurpee form) and just meandering down the fabled street, seeing the sights, people watching, until the far end, where there was another bar serving giant Hurricane slurpees. And of course the nightlife, where there are bars with great music, excellent food, alligators dancing in cages and women suspended by the ceilings in giant nets. I may have mixed up a couple details there but Giant Hurricane Slurpees.

Of course the most prevalent aspect of New Orleans is that by and large, it’s a hot, humid and swampy place. The only way to really get through the daytime heat is to drink Giant Hurricane Slurpees. Or if they weren’t making Slurpees, Giant Hurricanes or any other cold beverage would do. 

This trip was much the same as far as temperature. The trip was thrown together a bit hastily and only consisted of myself and two friends, Mike and Jim. There may have been some other side reason for the trip but it really doesn’t matter for the purposes of this story. Only that it was the three of us, and it was very hot and humid. You know how they say in Arizona that it’s a dry heat and not that bad? Making 114 degrees seem like only a stupid and unbearable 105 degrees? Well in New Orleans, it’s a wet heat. A miserable heat. So hot in fact that I actually went to go get a haircut in town a couple of blocks away from the hotel room. Just to get rid of excess hair and cool off a bit more. 

It should be mentioned as well that yes, I am referred to as the Human Blast Furnace. I give off heat. My core temperature is actually 97.6 because my body shoves off heat at an alarming rate. So when in a hot climate, it’s a bit like Superman wandering around a city where all the buildings and trees are made of Kryptonite. Seriously, why do you think I wear shorts 360 days a year? I run warm. But I cope. There may have been one or two times when I might even have mentioned my discomfort out loud, but it’s rare because I almost never complain.             What? 

Now my friend Mike is the exact opposite regarding the weather. He gets chilly. We go somewhere outside for lunch, he’d prefer being in the sun for the warmth, I crave the shade. Then again, he’s always eaten healthy and has always been fit. By and large, I’ve usually been Fatty Magoo. When you’ve no meat on your bones compared to hauling around an extra 50 pounds. It does make a difference. We were actually in one restaurant that had the AC cranked up big time and it was actually really cold in there. I loved it, but Mike was rightfully commenting that it was pretty chilly in there. The waitress came up and asked him if he wanted a shawl. The balls on this girl! She must not get too many good tips riffing on customers.

But I digress. The thing is, this was really just a couple days away on a three day weekend, laughing and drinking at night, recovering and exploring during the day. One day, we explored too much. We traveled to some remote location as there were swamp rides. You go and they take you out on the bayou in motorboats and see the sights. I can’t can’t tell you about any sights though. I couldn’t see them.

It was kind of a long drive out there but when we arrived, there was a little log cabin shop where you checked in, bought tickets, perused the gift section and checked out the menu. We didn’t know how long the trip on the water was going to be, so I figured I’d grab a snack. They showed “gator-dogs” up on the menu board, and as you’d imagine, it was a kind of hot dog or brat but made with gator meat. I’ve had gator before. It’s not bad, kind of like sausage, that type of thing. So I ordered one. They went to cook one up for me. What I didn’t really think about was that they put the gator-dog in the microwave. For a while. 

We got the signal that our boat would be ready to take off in a few minutes, so I gratefully accepted the gator-dog and exited the cabin, started to walk down the path and took a big bite of my treat. Now…..I’ve microwaved a million things in my life. So have you, probably. You know what happens if you leave something in the microwave too long. I estimate that they nuked this room temperature gator-dog in there for maybe two minutes or however long it takes to nearly kill a man.

As I bit into the creole treat, the gator-dog’s white hot, lava-like juices exploded in my mouth. I felt searing pain and then I felt nothing. I had lost all feeling in my mouth. Honestly, I can’t remember if I stupidly continued to chew and then swallow or not because I felt nothing in my mouth. Totally numb. I continued to walk toward the boat, throwing out the rest of the gator-dog out and I felt a bit odd, kinda tingly. I don’t think I was even hungry any more. I *think* I was going into shock of some sort but I kept heading toward the boat. We got in and the guy driving was probably saying something interesting but I couldn’t tell you. And I really wasn’t saying much I don’t think. It’s kind of blank as I was totally consumed with my body’s inner workings and condition in the moment.

Oh, and you know how, if you burn the roof of your mouth eating pizza, maybe a day or a couple of days so later, you get some strings of skin falling down off the roof of your mouth? Well, this phenomenon started in my mouth as I was getting into the boat. This was just a few minutes after the bite. The entire roof of my mouth was falling apart, collapsing, dangling. So that was a bit terrifying. And yes, I think I was kinda blotting out what was happening around me.

I did start to feel cold though. Yes, it was still about 90 degrees and humid but I was kind of cold. Soon, we were zooming through the bayou at impressive speeds, seeing the sights. But I wasn’t seeing the sights. I wasn’t seeing much of anything. As our boat tore through the swampland, everyone was enjoying the breeze and the sights and the swamp action, but I was hunched over, curled up in a fetal ball, shaking, shivering and hiding for protection behind Mike, of all people, who was blocking me from the wind! *He* was fine, I was dying! The hot, humid, clammy wind, which felt like blades of ice coming at me. A few days later, I’d start to get feeling back in my mouth and I figured I’d be okay in the end but then, at that moment, I seriously felt like there was something seriously wrong inside me and that I was going to die. But whatever was in the swamp was going to have to wait for it, because the thing IS.

Although I’m back to what passes for 100% (when you’re an overweight 57 year old), I was planning on sticking with the bald head for a while. It’s actually convenient on many levels. No hat hair, no bed head, no need to wash it, comb it, save on haircuts, you name it. Have to shave every three or four days but that’s not that big a deal at all. In fact, it’s far simpler and faster than I would have imagined. Now that the mustache and the zif have reestablished themselves, bushier than before, frankly, I like the look. God knows it’s fashionable these days. And maybe I’ll go back to it at some point. But for now, I should probably grow back the hair. Public perception. 

Thing is, as long as I keep the clean dome, I’ll automatically come across as cancer-boy to pretty much anyone who knows me. Strangers wouldn’t notice and don’t care but to friends and family, it’s just a reminder, the 500 pound gorilla in the room. 

Mind you, I am kinda tainted now. I’ve got the scarlet letter C on my chest. Inextricably linked with the malady in some people’s eyes. They’re all concerned, they mean well, they love me and I love them but we’re all human and some have better poker faces than others. Last year, there was one person early on that couldn’t help but look at me with that expression. That “You poor son of a bitch, you’re as good as dead.” expression. And I get it. I certainly don’t hold it against them. It’s cancer, for christ’s sake! Then a month later in April, I found out the cancer was already gone, in remission, sayonara, after only three months of chemo. More intensive tests in May confirmed it. The worst part of *any* of it was the treatment, –mostly the time surrounding the transplant.

But all that’s done. Everything’s back to normal except for the hair, so the best way to put the entirety of this behind me, put some visual distance between me and Gollum, is to just grow the hair back. 

Bottom line, it’s *probably* for the best that I get that scalp coverage back anyway. I’m almost out of the make up I use to cover up the 666.

Well, maybe. I’m referring to the CW’s biggestest most superest, powerfullest, superhero Crisis ever! Crisis on Infinite Earths is being spread out over five hours of tv. The first three parts have already aired this past December and the final two parts are airing next week. I’m chiming in now because right now, they’re cruising on a high note and frankly, I don’t know if they’re going to stick the landing. 

Sticking the landing on any show or series is very important to me but that deserves its own entry. Here, we, and the producers of these shows, The Berlanti group, are kind of at the mercy of the “house style” of the CW. They seem to require their shows to add heavy doses of one on one talks, a lot of soap opera, and at times, apparently, idiocy and buffoonery. 

Before jumping into my assessment of what’s gone before, during their normal runs, here’s what you can usually look forward to on any of these shows on a typical week. Supergirl– often uninteresting, rambling, and they make the lead character out to be mostly a whimpering idiot. Batwoman– so far in the short run, cool costume, not really ready for the mantle yet and spends too much time on one lame villain, her sister, who she “just knows she can save”. Flash–after losing their way a year ago with sitcom antics, this one’s greatest failing is a lot of sobbing and endless padding of a story. They made a four ep story go 23 eps last year. Black Lightning– most solid of the bunch on every level. Arrow was good after it ditched a lot of the extra soap opera but got to be repetitive and probably should have ended after S5 like they originally planned. Legends doesn’t take their heroes, threats or time travel seriously, it’s mostly just buffoonery and sitcom antics. The title is very misleading and frankly, unearned.

So far though, Crisis parts One, Two and Three just got better and better. Part One was, admittedly, crap. Maybe that’s because it was handled by the Supergirl team, I don’t know but even after finding out entire universes were dying, they found time for comedy bits and not so clever repartee. The whole shebang started with comedy. Well, if you can’t get Keaton to stage a dramatic Bat-cameo watching in anguish as his world is destroyed, I guess you get the next worse thing, Robert Wuhl sitting on a bench cracking a joke. We even see Burt Ward blurt out the obligatory “Holy…!” as he walks Ace the Bat-hound. They probably should have put a colorful sign around his neck that said “Ace the Bat-hound”. 

You’re probably saying, “oh, who cares, they’re having fun!” Well sure they are, but they’re also supposed to be informing the audience that everything and everyone is being destroyed and that it’s obviously a very serious situation. But if they play it for laughs, like they do so many serious things in these shows….don’t expect us to respect your story or these heroes if *you* don’t respect them. 

There was a lot of nonsense including a battle of time wraiths or something, necessitating both Green Arrow and Batwoman to jump a lot and spin in mid air for no reason as they took cover behind rocks and a needless death for Ollie that you knew wouldn’t take because it was lame. Lots of dumb stuff, illogical stuff. Gosh, Lois is just so witty and funny. Moving on.

Part One/Supergirl: 2 of 10.

Part Two was the Batwoman episode and I think this one started with the Huntress star from Birds of Prey from about 15 years ago. Here, we had her on the rooftops, playing a great cameo, trying to contact Oracle as she looked on in helpless anguish as her world then dies. That was chilling and quality. The other two highlights were Kevin Conroy playing a future Bruce Wayne/Batman and it was great to finally have the voice come alive and with a twist for his story, being the Batman that one day killed the Joker and once he crossed that line….

The other major appearance was the Kingdom Come Superman played by Brandon Routh and in one fell swoop, I hope it showed Warner Bros studios how Superman should look and how he should be played. Of course they won’t listen but if they were smart…..  in any case, thanks to these guest appearances, this was a big step up. There was still some comedy and Batgirl and Supergirl were okay. Did I mention that Lois is funny and witty? Just so happens they’re pitching a Superman and Lois show.

Part Two/Batwoman: 6/10

The Flash hosted part three and here’s where they pretty much stopped the comedy finally because now I guess it dawned on them that of the millions of alternate universes, we were now down to only SIX. I guess that sobered up either them or the writers but this was a pretty tight hour of guest appearances and dramatic plot points. Tom Welling shows up as Clark, Routh is still there as the best super character in all these shows (definitely not the annoying Ray Palmer) and John Wesley Shipp returns as the Flash and Black Lightning arrives to make the assemblage even greater.  The whole episode is handled with a quality that all these shows should be handled with each week, including pacing and action. Unfortunately, by the episode’s end, things look darker than ever as everything is eradicated except a handful of heroes, half of them non powered, to face one of the most powerful figures in what was once the Multiverse. A truly great set up.

Part Three/Flash: 8/10

Which leaves us next week with Part Four/Green Arrow and Part Five/Legends of the DC Universe. They’re gonna have to be because the thing IS.

Timing is everyth—-hey, about scheduling this thing….

I was jamming’ on stuff this morning and I almost forgot to post up, so this is timely….

Realistically, I probably won’t be posting up a new blog every day. I probably have an adequate supply of cogent thought mixed with nonsense but my work schedule, when busy, is unpredictable to say the least. Also, if there are enough students signing up to warrant it, I’ll be teaching a course in Sequential art at College of DuPage starting mid March, so little things like that could interrupt scheduling. 

I’m sure that at some point, I’ll become complacent or bored, the gap between the posts will become wider and wider like most blogs. Eventually just pics of tumbleweeds will go up. I did tinker with the idea of doing 365 posts in 365 days, since I started on January 1st, then stopping completely after #365. Sure, *last* year would have been more interesting (we assume at this point) but although you’re going to get some serious entries along with the absurd and the standards, me trying this last year would have been difficult to say the least. Also, had I started it one year ago, sure it would have started out fun but as of 1-15, it would have taken quite the turn. 

We’ll see. I originally thought to maybe take weekends off but if I’m jamming on a bunch of stuff all week and don’t get around to posting, I’ll certainly jump on some weekend posts anyway. I haven’t had a 9 to 5 job in 20 years, so we’ll keep things loose. 

Oh, and by the way, *you* might get talked about. Yes, YOU. I won’t go into the nastier stuff like when you-know-who ended up with the dead hooker in his basement or anything like that. Good times. Nothing actionable but some of the things I’ve found amusing over the years. Mind you, I do have an absurd sense of humor, so stay tuned, I suppose. 

Because the thing IS.

It’s not every ep that gets a rhyme. 

I can not give them credit for sticking the landing. If I never saw the show in previous years, I think I’d be impressed as hell! But I have been watching every ep, every year. That’s how I recognized how thoroughly Chibnall ripped off The Sound of Drums and several other old eps. Really, Russell T. Davie’s and Steven Moffat’s greatest hits. 

It’s a shame because if I wasn’t constantly noticing all the unabashed nods to Blink, The Big Bang, even Age of Steel, Gridlock and the previously mentioned The Sound of Drums, I might have been fooled into thinking this was an original episode. 

It being a Master episode, I can only guess Chibnall decided that he’d just take a bunch of story bits and plot devices from the penultimate episode of Series 3 and just  throw them in. The “fam” on the run but now known worldwide as Most Wanted with their pictures on every screen. The heartsbeat of the Master, tap tap tap tap, three of them sitting around in a warehouse chatting and of course the raving mad dog version of the Master. Sacha Dhawan is a very good actor but half the time is playing the raving lunatic. It doesn’t serve him well. 

Jodie does pretty well here, standing toe to toe with her arch nemesis. A shame the ep was such a mash of rehashing. The ending was strong though, even if Gallifrey being gutted is another repeat. The Fam finally asking her who exactly she is and her responding is well done too. Unfortunately, it opens up the can of worms. 

With the gap year, they’ve been riding along with this galactic stranger for two years now, almost getting killed every week. They’re only *now* asking who she is?!?!? Seriously? She comes across as half insane half the time and they all should have died in the vacuum of space at the end of their very first adventure! –in fact there’s no way they didn’t but Chibs isn’t big on science.

The end discussion they have plainly states that in all this time, they haven’t sat down somewhere for a chat. In two years. Because anyone and everyone who would ever step inside the TARDIS, especially after almost dying, would be asking questions about *everything*. For god’s sake, Yaz is *supposed to be a cop*! She seriously doesn’t question the Doctor’s background for two YEARS? That’s what people do, but Chibs doesn’t get that for some reason. It’s as if he hasn’t had a lot of social interaction in his life. 

And let’s talk about the “fam”. The three stooges. They’re utterly useless in this story. There’s no need for them. They’re nothing more than liabilities. Dangerous liabilities at that. Graham, usually the most beloved character of the series is made to be a dancing idiot with laser shoes. Yes, deadly lasers start shooting out of his feet in all directions because he has absolutely no control over them. Yes, Yaz should’ve probably taken one through the skull and Ryan should have lost a limb several times but it’s all funny, all Scooby Doo rascally fun. My wife suggested halfway through that the Doctor just send the three dopes back to 1834 and we’ll keep Aida, who was much smarter and far more competent a companion. Yaz and Ryan were also useless, idiotic, comic relief. 

Other casualties of The can of worms being opened….

• The nazi’s are spraying bullets *all* over the floor with machine guns, just in case someone is hiding under the floor. They leave, satisfied. Then the woman spy native to the era (world famous spy they happen to run into immediately upon landing–coincidence), lifts up some floor boards and we see the Doctor and Aida laying there unhurt somehow. There was a rug over the section. Perhaps the nazi’s didn’t feel like shooting it? Nice pattern? 
• The Master has done many horrible things, from multiple genocide to the burning of planets, but dressing as a Nazi is a “new low” for him? That scraping sound is my eyes rolling in an extreme manner.
• They showcase Aida, who’s technically the mother of the modern day computer, which is great, a real trailblazer. But for some reason, Chibs takes on a Nazi B story to wedge in the female trailblazer spy and she gets short shrift. I thought she’d get her own ep. Instead she gets jammed in on the side of this one. Pace yourself, Chibs, spread the wealth a bit more!

So yeah, we’re two eps in on S12, already 1/5th the way done and after a decent start, Chibs seems to be regressing again. Next week, ep 3 is “Orphan 55” written by Ed Hime, who wrote my favorite story if S11, “It Takes You Away”.  I’m always more hopeful when Chibs isn’t writing, because the thing IS.

We recently had a new garbage company sign contracts with our little town. The old system was getting expensive, what with the stickers going up and up in price. The new system was activated on January 2nd. We now are in possession of two garbage bins. A regular 65 gallon garbage bin and a 65 gallon recyclables bin.

I’m going to give you a second to A) calm down, as I know this is exciting and B) just…to keep you on the edge of your seat.

Now, due to the holiday– yes, yes, you see what’s coming…you can smell it…like garbage… due to the holidays, the pick up day was pushed back, so instead of them picking up on the new day Friday, it was to have been on Saturday. Around noon on Saturday, they did indeed pick up the garbage bin, and were nice enough to signal the ushering in of this new alliance by sliding the bin into the middle of the driveway. Their signature, if you will.

But what ho……? “Rick,” you might say…”…pray thee tell us about the recyclables bin! Doth not leave us hanging, bro!” 

Well, they never did pick it up. I know, right? It went out there late Friday night and is still there. It’s Monday morning and it’s still there. Seeing which way the wind was blowing, I called them at 4pm Saturday afternoon to let them know it was still there. Got their “answering service”, who took my information and said they’d get back to me. Nothing. Left an email with them Sunday morning…..nothing. It’s still there.

It tasks me. THEY task me…….

I’m going to get up, shower, obviously have to push back the work out due to this crisis and then go down for an unassuming breakfast and coffee, before glancing out the window yet again….because the thing IS.

Almost 4PM, and I notice it’s still there. I’ve received word from the Johnny-on-the-spot garbage service that it will be picked up within 24 hours. I figured you’d be wondering.

The thing IS…….I have about 437 faults. One is that many things annoy me. Why can’t the universe be more like me? Never mind, that’s another blog for another time. But I’ll give you an example of why also annoy myself.

It’s bedtime and I’m striving to get comfortable so I can fall asleep. I’m a somewhat delicate and complex mechanism as far as what not to do in bed, in service of getting to sleep, as it may lead to many physical regrets in the morning. Through the myriad decades, I’ve learned to position myself so that primarily, the neck and lower back get protected so I don’t wake up hobbling around the house in the morning, hunched over, neck to the side, moaning “sanctuary!” Because I never miss an opportunity to mock the absurdity of me and if I can get a hunchback gag in, I’ll do it. Basically, I’m sleeping on my right side, facing the side table. Possibly one knee up. Dynamic.

Having cleared the first bed hurdle as I’ve just named it, it’s then a matter of me taming the tiny city of Phlegmopolis that resides in the back of my throat. A serious and infuriating case of post nasal drip that has hounded me for many years and while it’s possible the family has learned to block it out, I never can. I just cleared my throat. It does come in handy for echo location purposes though. The family can usually tell where I am anywhere in the house if they just wait a bit. Just cleared my throat — there he is!

But I digress. Once the clearing of the throat has calmed and the blowing of the nose has receded– a byproduct of clearing the throat, it’s a back and forth teeter totter of phlegmy fun–then I can start to relax. OH…you’re probably thinking “poor Linda! How can she slee–” SHE SLEEPS JUST FINE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. My wife has even odds on being able to sleep through a nuclear war, so she’s okay.

It’s now quiet and I’m trying to rest my mind, pushing away all financial concerns, trying NOT to think of the extraordinarily good or bad entertainment I’ve just seen, etc. Clear the mind, employ some calming method to reach that restive state so that you might drift off. It’s quiet. But then you shift one more time, lift your head slightly off the pillow. You hear the sound.

“smkLAH”  

Here’s the thing. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a human blast furnace that generates heat–probably— but laying on the side of my head on the pillow after a while makes my ear a bit sweaty or greasy whatever, but after it’s smooshed down, when I lift my head, the ear unfolds, expands, flowers out, whatever you want to call it and “smkLAH”.

This bugs the hell out of me. It’s a loud “smkLAH” that I have no choice but to hear because it’s in my ear….it’s my ear! So I have to grab a Kleenex and clean my ear. *Hopefully* NOT beginning the whole multi tier sleep hurdle system once again. Head down. Try again to rest the mind….you know part of the problem is that I’m hyper aware of everything going on with me at all times. Most people can sleep through anything but if I wake up and the ol’ bladder’s 7.3% full, I feel honor bound to empty it. Otherwise, I will focus on that and suddenly, it’s 9.4% full and nature will only advance this progression, I’ll start thinking of waterfalls, mass chaos, so get up, take care of it. 

But what ho…..? How much time has passed now? Sure am warm. Don’t even lift your head. Don’t. Do. It. I’m sure the ear is still pleasantly dry. You can just drift off. Do not lift your head. Envision a hand gently tapping a balloon. Bump…..bump…….bump….hhhhhh………….. I lift my head

“smkLAH”

On January 20th, BBC America is finally committed to showing Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Time to dive in and appreciate it.

In 1987, original programming on syndicated tv was a wasteland. There were tons of reruns of Gilligan’s Island but not much in the way of new product. Enter Star Trek: The Next Generation. Us Star Trek fans were STARVED for new Trek. We would gladly take anything. ANYTHING. So when we got two over all crap seasons with Picard, Data and Worf with a few real wonderful episodes scattered throughout, we hung on and as of season 3, they brought up their game and all in all, it was a really good show. But several years later, a better Trek show started. It was called Deep Space Nine.

This was January of ’93 and the previously barren syndicated landscape was now jam packed with a TON of shows, in which DS9 was the latest drop of water into this ocean. It wasn’t even the only show about a space station! Right along side of it was Babylon 5, by JMS (famous writer whose name I never get right). 

I like to give shows a chance, so I watched the pilot for both shows, as space stuff like this is usually my thing. B5 was boring, amateurish and even with the nice effects, it looked cheap and the characterization was hollow. DS9, on the other hand was more solid, interesting and even with the religious overtones added in–not to be preachy by any means but to add more conflict–it seemed a lot more solid all the way around and it also had the added advantage of the familiar Star Trek trappings. So I stuck with it. 

Now admittedly, the first two seasons of DS9 had their slow moments too but they were still much much better than the first two years of TNG. Plus, the foundations for quite a few momentous and spectacular storylines were laid in those first two seasons. We were introduced to characters who would just get better and better as their personal stories grew and they evolved. There were a few characters I actively disliked at the beginning, yet I grew to love them as the seasons went by, just because of the superlative writing mixed with their acting. 

And conflict, yes there was. The thing is, Gene Roddenberry envisioned that in the far flung future, all humanity had evolved above and beyond all prejudice, materialism, the need for money, etc. The crew of the Enterprise in TNG was the nicest around, all the time. Almost never a harsh word spoken. That, along with the endless conference meetings made for some bland stories. Not so on DS9. On that space station, you had flawed, real humans from Starfleet living with the extremely religious Bajorans, the greedy, latinum loving Ferengi, the fascist Cardassians and whatever other alien species moved in, though or out of the station.

The basic thrust of the series is that disillusioned Starfleet Commander Benjamin Sisko accepts a backwater posting at the very edge of the Alpha quadrant, taking his young son Jake with him as he continues to drift through life after the death of his wife three years earlier at Wolf 359, where Starfleet got its ass kicked by the Borg. The space station itself is of Cardassian design, left behind when they pulled out of Bajor, in orbit below, after a 50 year occupation. So Starfleet moved in to help out the now recovering Bajor and has to make do with the station, warts and all. It might seem a somewhat sedate posting out in the middle of nowhere until miraculously, a wormhole appears nearby. What’s more, it’s a stable wormhole that leads to the Gamma quadrant of space. Basically, going through the wormhole is a 60,000 light year short cut. Suddenly, this sleepy, backwater station on the outer frontier of space is perhaps the most economically and strategically important spot anywhere in the known cosmos. 

Aside from Cmdr. Sisko and Jake, you had Miles O’Brien, transferring over from TNG to basically get the wrecked station Starfleet ready, bringing his wife Keiko and daughter Molly with him. Major Kira Nyris, the hot headed second in command of the station and former Bajoran resistance fighter against the Cardassians during the occupation. The headstrong and verbose Dr. Julian Bashir, a brilliant doctor who craves the frontier medicine aspect of it all. Security chief Odo, a shape shifter and seemingly the only one of his kind. Odo’s “nemesis”, Quark, the scheming Ferengi bar owner, his dopey brother Rom and Rom’s delinquent son Nog. You also had Lt. Jadzia Dax, a young woman from Trill in her 20’s who was a brilliant scientist but also the host for a 300 year old symbiont who had 7 other hosts before Jadzia, who now had all the memories and knowledge of all of them. There was Gul Dukat, the former Cardassian prefect of the station who came around to be a general asshole and pain in the ass too. Vedek Wynn, a duplicitous Bajoran cleric and another pain in Sisko’s ass who would routinely kill you with passive aggression. And Garak, a Cardassian tailor, who’d been exiled from his home planet for some reason. All brilliant characters, wonderfully written and inhabited by fantastic actors. The *least* of these characters proved to be every bit as alive and fantastic and fleshed out as the *most* important character in any other Trek series, including TOS.

The writers really did go where no man had gone before in the way they built the relationships, the stories, the epic multi-part stories, the over arching, world changing themes, you name it. If you’ve never watched show, treat yourself. Let them establish what they need to in the first season. It all pays off. There are a few clunkers in the first season and then maybe one or two the next but it’s rare. You’ll be glad you stuck through it, because the thing IS.

There used to be a show on about 30 years ago called The Sports Writers and it was these four old time newspaper sports reporters, one was around 70, one was in his 60’s, one was around 50 and the youngest was late 30’s and they sat around this table, with an all black background, two of them smoking cigars and just talking sports. These guys were crusty old pros talking about boxing, baseball, football, all sports. And they were entertaining as hell.

I’m really only into baseball and only somewhat interested in boxing but just listening to these guys talk passionately about all the sports was just fascinating. They’d go on about interesting tidbits regarding soccer or behind the scenes with college football– I didn’t care, it was all just extremely compelling. Because they were passionate, plain and simple. It also helps that at least two of them almost appeared to be straight out of central casting, chomping on cigars, on the ragged edge of yelling for the copy boy or “Get me editorial” or “Stop the presses!” The show was on for a decent amount of time here in Chicago and had a pretty decent following. Just a simple premise. Four guys at a table. Nothing else. No background, no nothing. Just them talking about what they love.

It was because of that show that I put together “Talkin’ Comics” here at a local high school that had it’s very own cable access channel. This was the mid ’90’s. I first somehow convinced the school to let me do the show. Then, I contacted three comic book loving friends of mine, Seitu Hayden, Lou Cella and Mike Edsey and convinced them to come to the school for a days’ shooting where we’d film several episodes. I picked topics for each episode like comics to films, events and crossovers, etc. each show was a little under 30 minutes and we even had commercial breaks. I think we did about 8 eps total. It was pretty cool, as it was the whole shebang with commercial cues, opening theme music I brought in that I created in the Garage band program on my Mac, did some art cards for the intro, etc. Damned if we didn’t put on a show! Just four guys, sitting around a table, no background, just talking passionately about what they loved.

For the next 7 or 8 years, I kept hearing from the school that this was the most popular, best rated show they ever had. They kept running the same 8 episodes for years! Yet they never asked us to do more. They weren’t really into taking the initiative, which was odd for a class that was all about learning how to run a professional tv station. Curious.

Then ten years later, I bugged them again and we did another round of shows with the same guys. It was all great fun again but the follow up by this bunch of kids was even more lacking because they never even gave us DVD’s of the episodes. I don’t even have a visual to provide, sadly. Just kind of disappointing but eh. Live and learn. We lived and I hope they learned something, because the thing IS.