by George Takei
MANY VICTIMS OF TODAY’S TRAGEDY WERE FANS OF SCIENCE FICTION/FANTASY. THEY STOOD IN LINE TO BE THE FIRST TO SEE, TO BE INSPIRED, AND TO ESCAPE. AS A COMMUNITY OF DREAMERS, WE MOURN THIS TERRIBLE TRAGEDY AND THIS SENSELESS TAKING OF INNOCENT LIVES. (GEORGE TAKEI)
Beyond well-known characters, like the Muppets or Batman, many fans share a love for other lost symbols of an “America-that-once-was.” These fans were children when cassette tapes were wound by No. 2 pencils, when “film” was held in black plastic cases resembling Tupperware, and when young artists drew cityscapes using control knobs on a red television-like screen filled with magnetic powder. They grew up knowing what this meant when you came into the classroom in the morning:
Photo Credit: Steven Karns. Used with Permission
In fairness, when I was growing up, we didn’t even have VCRs or Movie Day at school, but Generation X and the Baby Boomers did. I am mindful of the generational divide, and I sometimes even test it — as when I post lyrics side by side from today versus the 1970s:
Young people are quick to jump to the defense of the music of these times, but a part of me wonders whether music has somehow peaked. Listening to Lady Gaga today, it sounds an awful lot like Madge in the 1990s. Boy bands are pretty much still boy bands. The only new developments seem to be the incorporation of rap moments in otherwise melodic pop tunes and the prevalence of auto-tune, neither of which appear to have advanced the art form appreciably.
But I digress. My Facebook page has become a sort of cultural barometer that I find truly fascinating. Nothing much happens by the way of pop culture without at least some fan posting about it on my wall. So even at the age of 75, I feel more or less current in today’s goings-on. Some may find it surprising that my fan base, according to the statistics posted on Facebook, is not made up of mostly aging Trekkies over the age of 50. To the contrary, the largest demographic on my page is males between the age of 25 and 34 (what I call the Comedy Central crowd — they love anything I post about South Park or Family Guy), followed closely by females in the same age bracket. I’m not exactly sure when this shift occurred, but it delights me to know that, though I am separated in age by some forty or fifty years from most of my fans, they have welcomed me into their lives. As my fan base tilts ever younger, fewer and fewer fans will know me merely as “that guy who played Sulu.”
Perhaps my page carries some favor because I often explore the common cultural ground beneath us. Take, for instance, the world’s nearly unanimous love for Harry Potter. The Baby Boomers, now mostly in their 60s, are beginning to read these stories aloud to their grandchildren. At the same time, young people are quick to embrace it as their own epic saga. Who among us hasn’t dreamed of waking up to find that we are destined for more than mere Mugglehood? The children in these stories awaken universal desires in us: the quest for greatness, the pull of companionship and love, a sense of clarity in our moral choices, an abiding belief in the magical and wondrous, and the ability to talk to snakes.
Compare that to the banal, static and self-absorbed story that is Twilight. Now, it’s no secret that I am not a lover of this series. I made this clear in my call for the Star Alliance, which I’ll cover in my next chapter. You see, cultural icons stand the test of time because they speak to our deeper convictions and ignite our dreams. There is more story in a minor character like Boba Fett than there is in all the clutter of various vampires in the Twilight franchise.
If it is our collective adoration for these characters that brings us together, then I am more than happy to be the purveyor of such images on a daily basis. Like holiday carols, Rubik’s cubes, and reruns of The Brady Bunch, they remind us all that we were shaped by common cultural experiences that carried with them a common guiding set of values. While critics often wring their hands over the presumed superficiality of these icons and values, particularly given the poverty and afflictions of most of the rest of the world, they fail to offer up a workable alternative. If leadership requires a fired-up sense of purpose and imagination, it also demands a profound connection to the society to be led. Like it or not, this is our culture, and we should embrace and celebrate it, even while we strive to refine and shape it.
Meanwhile, I’m going to go watch some Muppet Show reruns and work on my best Yoda.
The Star Alliance
About a year ago, I received a tweet from a fan informing me that the Chicago Sun Times film critic, Roger Ebert, had called upon me to broker a peace. It was intriguing, to say the least. Mr. Ebert had been following a growing online feud between two of sci-fi’s heavyweights — Carrie Fisher and William Shatner (no pun intended, Bill).
Bill had begun the spat by ridiculing the Star Wars franchise during an interview. He claimed that Star Wars was less original than Star Trek, and that Trek had a leg up over Wars when it came to character development and story line. “Star Trek had relationships and conflict among the relationships, and stories that involved humanity and philosophical questions. Star Wars was special effects,” he stated. “Star Wars was derivative of us by - what, 10, 15, 20 years?” He then took the character of Princess Leia on directly: “As beautiful as she was, and as wonderful an actress as she is, (she) can’t compare to the marvelous heroines we had on Star Trek.”
Now, Bill likes to stir the pot, particularly if he has a new show coming out, and he does not do things without knowing the consequences. You can’t fire a photon torpedo across the bow of an Imperial Destroyer without some kind of response. It wasn’t long before Carrie Fisher hit back with her own interview, “Star Wars was sooooooo much better than Star Trek,” she said. She compared Klingon to a laundry detergent (I confess, I chuckled when I heard this), and noted that the original series appeared to lack any kind of budget for special effects. To add some personal insult to injury, she mocked Bill’s weight gain since retiring as Captain of the Enterprise, then cheekily added that her own “space buns” were superior to Spock’s ears.
The Shat then fired back, in yet another video, claiming he could in fact still fit in his uniform with a bit of pushing on the stretch material, but that he doubted Fisher could still fit into her bikini worn in the third movie. Yes, it had turned quite personal.
Of course, it was all in good fun, but beneath it all a nagging question remained: Was Bill correct that Star Wars’ use of special effects detracted from the story and characters? Was Ms. Fisher far off the mark in criticizing the admittedly shaky effects of the original series?
It didn’t take long for the Internet to grow abuzz, with sci-fi fans rushing to the defense of their favored “Star” series. While Star Trek had lasted through the ages, Star Wars concededly had gained far greater pop culture penetration. Geeks everywhere were taking sides, and a rupture in the sci-fi continuum seemed possible. So when Roger Ebert’s blog covered the feud, he wondered aloud whether a peace could be made between the two warring sides: “One can only hope George Takei (Star Trek’s Lt. Sulu) can be brought in to broker a peace settlement before blood is shed.”
I’m not exactly sure why Ebert chose to ask for my assistance. Did he know that I had worked on Star Wars as well as Star Trek and thus stood in some unique position? Did he pick me because I had already successfully begun an online presence, and had a few viral videos under my belt? Or was there something authoritative about my delivery that he believed could quiet the growing storm?
I jest of course. I happily accepted the challenge, and I did not take this assignment lightly. I told them both to shut their wormholes, before images like this began to appear:
Indeed, a fracture between the two fan bases of the two titans of science fiction threatened to pull our collective attentions away at a time when focus, unity and singularity of purpose was much needed.
I was speaking, of course, about the common threat that was Twilight.
In my video calling for the Star Alliance against Twilight, I went into some of the basic reasons why that movie series (I confess, I have not read the books — and if they are an
ything like the film, I don’t care to) could poison an entire generation’s mindset toward science fiction. For me, both Star Trek and Star Wars represent the expansion of human imagination, creativity, and curiosity. In the best of science fiction, epic battles rage between forces of good and evil, and the fate of the universe often hangs in the balance. Noble and stirring characters inhabit the big screen, challenging us to be heroes, to rise to our fullest potential, and to vanquish our enemies utterly. Great lessons are taught to, and absorbed by, young minds and hearts.
In Twilight, not so. Unlike the great vampires of the Anne Rice series, The Lost Boys movie or, more recently, True Blood, there is nothing “bad ass” in the least about the Twilight bloodsuckers. In that simpering world, centuries-old vampires mope over 17-year olds, attend high school, and sparkle in the sunlight. The main, driving question throughout the first of the three films was not a struggle for domination, a gripping test of the limits of camaraderie, or even a quest for something long since thought unattainable. No, Twilight asked the same burning question so many Tiger Beat features demand of their readers: “Does my boyfriend like me?”
Okay, okay. We had a great deal of fun at the expense of poor Twilight, and fan memes dutifully flooded my page. My favorites depicted various vampire hunters — Buffy, Blade, Abraham Lincoln — in hot pursuit of sparkly, pale Edward. Other fans chimed in with humor about the banality of the books:
All manner of images surfaced suggesting that Darth Vader and Stormtroopers, even in their helmets, had greater diversity in their expressions than a hapless, poorly-directed Kristen Stewart.
I shared these with the fans in good humor, and unsurprisingly the supporters of Twilight cried foul. “Stop bashing Twilight, I love that film!” “Just because YOU don’t understand Twilight doesn’t mean others can’t love it.” “Edward is sooooo dreamy!!” To me, their defense of the franchise often lacked conviction. The “Twihards” knew, deep down, that what they were enjoying in these films was a guilty pleasure, and not great storytelling, profound character development or even groundbreaking special effects.
Moreover, what kind of message was Twilight sending to girls and young women everywhere? Compare the noteworthy heroines of other books and series: Hermione Granger, who through study and dedication helped her friends vanquish the greatest of Dark Wizards; Arya Stark, who vows to avenge her family and learns to fence with the greatest of Dancing Masters; Katniss Everdeen, who replaces her doomed sister in a battle to the death and, through her defiance, sparks a revolution against the Capitol. As an aside, one of my favorite fan-shared memes related to her:
© pink candy - Fotolia.com. Used with Permission
The Alliance was a turning point for my Facebook page. As broker of the Star Peace, I was granted not just grudging but enthusiastic permission to post all things science fiction. Die-hard sci-fi fans clamored for an expansion of the Star Alliance, to include such great series as Battlestar Galactica, Babylon 5, Dr. Who, and Stargate. For a brief time I even sold T-shirts for the Alliance (all proceeds benefiting the non-profit Old Globe Theater’s production of my show Allegiance). Fans came up with brilliant logos that used the space vessels of various shows to spell the word “COEXIST” just as religious symbols had been used in versions past to form that same hopeful word.
Science fiction is more than just our collective dreams for a human race that reaches to the stars. In many ways, the dreams of yesterday are becoming the realities of today and the path for tomorrow. It amazes me these days to see so many of the concepts first imagined on Star Trek gaining practical application. Our communicators look very much like the early cellular flip-phones. Scientists propose rocket engines powered by, believe it or not, dilithium crystals. Even the concept of warp drive has moved into mainstream theory. Perhaps Gene Roddenberry was a modern-day Leonardo da Vinci, so many of his imaginings coming to pass.
So is it time for yet another great Star series to come along and lift our eyes and spirits to the heavens? I would hope so, and I can’t wait.
Bacon
We’ve all seen it. People love to post pictures of their pricey restaurant meals or fancy entrées they’ve managed to prepare themselves for that special someone. As supportive Facebook friends, we dutifully click “like” to show our appreciation for the beauty of the presentation and the imagined delicacy of the flavors. We do this even though we know the post was simply offered to render us resentful, envious, and hungry.
But when it comes to food posts, there’s no beating America’s favorite bad boy edible: Bacon.
Fans “share” and “like” posts about bacon with the gusto of studio audiences applauding Emeril Lagasse’s extra bulb of garlic, tossed into the pot with a “Bam!” Behind it churns the same primal instinct that causes us to nod with approval at things like fried Twinkies (an endangered species after the recent bankruptcy of Hostess Foods), Krispy Kreme donuts, or a whole stick of butter in Paula Dean’s Southern Casseroles. Incidentally, there was a period when deep fried turkeys, an invention of the South, were all the rage for Thanksgiving. But because so many of those who attempted this were badly burned, it has largely petered out as a fad. If you really need to do this, make sure you set it up outside, in a very large pot, and with a portable burner. There was also a time where Turduckens — a combination of a turkey, stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken — were on everyone’s Thanksgiving try list. One of my favorite cartoons showed each of these three birds in the same bed, the turkey smoking a cigarette, a simple caption reading: “And they would never speak of the Turducken again.”
But back to bacon. As I understand it, “liking” a bacon post is culinary and nutritional defiance. It ignores decades of scientific study on arteriosclerosis and the carcinogenic nature of processed foods. We know bacon is chock-full of sodium, fat, nitrates and more fat. In glorifying bacon, we reclaim a simpler time when we could eat what we wanted to, as we did as children once upon a time, before restaurants began publishing caloric values of food, and packaging cautioned us about fat percentages in our food. When we eat bacon, we throw caution to the wind and truly live, if even just a little.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention that “bacon” also has been the unintended beneficiary of the low-level pop static of a certain “Kevin,” the namesake of one of the best parlor games ever invented.
I’ve sometimes imagined that if sin had a flavor, it might very well be bacon. It even tastes smoky, as if it emerged piping hot out of the fiery pans of hell. More than any forbidden fruit, this delectable treat — best when crispy, the little grease bubbles still dancing happily on its crenelated edges — epitomizes things we know we shouldn’t eat, but still crave and keep going back to. In short, it’s food crack.
Photo Credit: store.thebaconshop.com - Used with Permission
Most fans (mostly men) who left comments on this highly popular post swore they’d take bacon roses over normal roses any day. I suppose this supports the old adage that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. It’s no coincidence then that Homer Simpson has become the unofficial champion of bacon.
Fans of bacon tend to see it in all manner of places, especially in street signs. Everywhere they turn, the world reminds them that they could be somewhere else. Somewhere with bacon.
I can never look at wavy side-by-side lines on a road sign the same way again. Here’s another:
Perhaps it’s the naughty aspect of bacon that makes it so appealing. Bacon images wouldn’t be nearly as popular if bacon were something we got to see or eat every day without judgment. It’s like boobs in Europe. They’re all over their beaches, so it’s just not that big a deal. But like Big Mac Lasagnas (yes, that’s right, Big Mac Lasagnas. Google it), bacon is just too bad for you to pass up.
Fast food chains have started taking this to extremes. Burger King introduced a “bacon sundae” — combining two things we know are terrible for us into a single, unforgivable treat. Even high-end restaurants have begun offering
bacon as part of their fancier offerings, sometimes slipping it into desserts. I once witnessed, as a particularly tempting selection, a dish of maple ice cream over corn bread, with chopped center-cut smokehouse bacon, all smothered in rich syrup. My stomach rumbles at the memory.
The overly health-conscious among us have tried to rain on the bacon parade by promoting low fat (and low flavor) options, such as turkey bacon. Turkey bacon. It’s like saying “shoot” instead of “shit.” It just doesn’t quite carry the moment.
I’ve noticed that bacon substitute is typically paired with another disappointing partner, like egg whites, and served with a side of arugula salad, instead of the buttered home fries wedges you’d rather have. Brad stays on my case to eat healthy, and I do make the effort. However, there’s a part of my brain — the part wrapped in bacon — that protests. Life is too short to not order the bacon dessert. As a matter of fact, life starts to feel mighty long when all you eat is turkey bacon and egg whites and a side of arugula.
That’s Not Funny
I quickly learned that, on the Internet, it is impossible to please everyone, but really easy to piss them all off. A joke that I find chuckle-worthy, an inevitable percentage of viewers will find in poor, or even wretched, taste. And of course, it is those folks who will take the time to let me know exactly why, usually in a wrenching, over-personal comment or email:
