incipit vita nova

In Memory of Dash (Pamela Richardson's son)

I don't know how I made it two years with no awareness of Canadian broadcaster Pamela Richardson's book about the too-short, tragic life of her son Dash, who committed suicide at age 16 in 2001.  Pamela's book A Kidnapped Mind benefits the Dash Foundation which is dedicated to saving children in the future from the devastating horror that Dash endured, eventually costing his life.

I know what it feels like to lose a son - not at age 16, but at only six months, literally torn from my arms.  I have told people that PAS was a very strong contributing cause of my baby's death.  A parent victimized by this syndrome has a very difficult, probably impossible time being anything like a decent partner to someone else, and cannot parent other, new children effectively, the grief, horror and trauma is so great.  As a member of the international support group and the local, Southern California support group, the stories are mind-numbingly similar.  I imagine that Pamela's two boys with her second husband would have something to say about the price Dash's father exacted from their lives, and Pamela's second husband as well - a common-sense chap who seems to have tried to do his best to help both Pamela and Dash.

We can all recover - and a healing and loving approach is required.  The So Cal support group now has a great website, with lots of resources.  If you are in the Southern California area (anywhere from above Santa Barbara to San Diego) and are wondering what has happened to your life and your child, this can be a great resource and comfort for you.  I do not understand why the U.S. is so far behind Canada and Australia in comprehension of these issues; probably it is tied to the legal industry and court system, which has enriched itself by untold billions over the years as a result of not acting to solve this problem.

Snape Painting, Snape Doll, Snapestravaganza

In class a few weeks ago, we saw this very unusual Snape doll made by an artist on Deviant Art.  The doll reminds me of the animated figures on a computer game I had a long time ago based on the works of Edgar Allan Poe.

Don't believe me?  Here's a screen shot from the game, which was called "The Dark Eye."

That's the little "Dark Eye" character, which is supposed to be a early Victorian female - as I'm sure you can tell.  Look at the walls!  This was one of the creepiest, most absorbing games ever.

But enough of that.  For some reason, with two book outlines due and all this other stuff I have to do, I came home tonight full of the burning desire to paint Snape.  I don't know if it's because the "Snaper Doll" picture I have draws Snape-itors, or if I couldn't get that picture of the doll out of my head.  However, Snape is very painterly.  His face is a joy to paint.  And I would never make something that looked like that doll.  I may have all types of brain damage and be a very idiosyncratic painter, but I don't do "doll."  And that Wacom tablet - man.  I miss the smell and feel of paint, but I don't miss having to wait for layers to dry, or fighting with the angle of a watercolor board, or buckling edges of Arches paper.

Yes, I just inserted his regular background back in - too bad.  Here's your Snape for the day.  Nor did I feel a need to paint his buttons.

Maori v. Shaolin Monk - Bringing a Wood Club to a Wushu Hook Fight

If you would like to learn how to wield the more than 30 traditional weapons of the Shaolin monks, and do not speak Mandarin, Steve Demasco is a western master of the Shaolin martial arts offering training videos. The computer designer and programmer on "Deadliest Warrior," Max Geiger, is blogging about his experiences making the show.  He hadn't known much about either Maori warriors or Shaolin fighting monks prior to making the show, and said that this battle focused on the different spiritual attitudes of each combatant.

As one of the commenters on Max's entry said, my heart was with the Maori but my head with the Shaolin monk.  Look at these outrageous Maori warriors - they were just protesting not fighting!  In terms of the famous Maori terrifying facial expressions, the Maori is saying "I'm going to kill you and eat you" when he sticks his tongue out at his opponent.  This makes sense.

Max was right in that, while the Shaolin fighters were emphasizing their hours of daily training and centuries of spiritual discipline, the Maori also had much training, and relied upon a spiritual connection with their ancestors as well as building up mana through battle victories and also using the mana their ancestors built up before them.  Although the show emphasized the strength and size of the Maori, I think it sort of unfairly downplayed the many different moves that the Maori also employed while fighting.  The final battle simulation was almost funny, as the Maori looked surprised or put-off with some of the different defensive techniques of the Shaolin monk.

I actually think that in real life, if given the chance to physically get hold of the Shaolin monk, the Maori would win every time.  But once again, it was a case of a combatant bringing a less-strong technology against a higher technology, and the winning implement in the battle simulations was the Shaolin hook, which was used "double" - i.e not just one, but two steel hooks.  A few minutes of research showed that the hooks are not the most-common Wushu (the underlying martial art) weapon for the Shaolin monks, just as the shark-tooth club seems to be more of a Hawaiian weapon than a Maori one.  Once again, the show outdid itself in terms of violence done to the ballistics gel/fake blood and guts dummy, sides of pork, and de-fleshed beef spines.  The Maori guy completely shattered the beef spines with his big taiaha - a five-foot battle club.  The Shaolin martial artist nearly severed the ballistics gel dummy with his wushu hooks and popped the eyes out of the dummy's head with his emei piercers (a pen-sized steel spike connected to a ring that allows concealment and quick use, as well as spinning for distraction).

This might well be the most "disturbing" fight yet for what it says about the spirituality of people and of violence.  It is well-known that the Shaolin Buddhist tradition states that the monks must only use their combat skills in self-defense, or defense of the innocent - i.e. to stamp out evil.  Yet there are many examples of "rogue" Shaolin doing offensive violence.  The Maori really were cannibals, in order to absorb the mana or spiritual strength of those they conquered in battle.  In a certain respect, the approaches of each of these warriors gives a lot more food for reflection than the more modern, cocky, boastful attitudes of, say, the Spetsnaz and Green Berets.  Since nobody really knows what the Spartans would be saying to each other, I don't recall the Spartan guys doing much but demonstrating the effect of their weapons.  The Ninja and Samurai seemed to focus on the mechanics of their fighting techniques and weapons as well.  Actually, now that I think about it, this was in some ways, the creepiest matchup yet.  And next week:  William Wallace v. Shaka Zulu.  I can't wait.  The commercial featured a guy saying "Shaka Zulu's political philosophy was . . . murder."  The opposing side was saying, "To a lot of people, William Wallace was a god."  The preview makes it clear - some of the battle simulations feature the Wallace blue face.  So take that, Shaka.  Let's hope your spear is long enough.

What Purpose do A**holes Serve?

Ken at Popehat finally answered one of my true lifelong conundrums:  what purpose do the intellectually enfeebled, ultra-selfish, idiotic asshats of the world out there serve?  I mean, why did God create - why does he tolerate - people like Mr. O--, the idiotic narcissist who almost killed my friend Kathy with his false accusation that she'd "sexually harassed" him?  Needless to say, Mr. O- was the prelude to the grand overture in my life.

But why?  Why?

It's simple.  Ken, an attorney, calls them the "profitable 10%."  He's about to do a professional presentation on sexual harassment, and he points up that of the audience, 80% don't need the presentation and it's just reinforcement of what they already know, and warnings against doing things they'd never consider doing.  An additional 10%, he says, actually don't know some of what the presentation covers, and perhaps has forgotten their prior training.  After a refresher course, they'll do fine afterward.  The remaining 10%, he says,

  ". . . is unable to retain simple instructions and lacks the inclination or capacity to act decently even when someone explains to them what “decently” looks like. They will do bad stuff, or not, depending on opportunity, boredom level, and happenstance. They will do so whether or not I train them."

That 10%, Ken says, pay his mortgage.

Right.  Without that 10%, we'd need far fewer law enforcement officers.  Without that 10%, there'd been half, or less, the activity found in civil courts and probably much, much less than is found in criminal courts.  And everybody who works in those environments has a job exclusively based on either catering to, controlling, or stopping that 10%. 

This is an interesting breakdown, as many people know the 90-10 rule from a variety of environments.  Still others are familiar with Steven Levitt's contention based on Bagel Man's 20 years of bagel and cream cheese sale records, that approximately 87% of people are honest; 13% are not - not far off the 80%/20% - with 10% hopeless ratio Ken cites.

We might wish we could get away from this part of human nature.  We might be victimized; there's no getting back lost, miserable or wasted hours these people cost us.  But getting rid of "them" not only will put Ken out of a job and a house, it smacks of Paradise or post-Armageddon, and you know what they say.  Without evil, one would never know good.  Without idiocy, one would never know brilliance.  Without cruelty, kindness is unknown.

World's Best Dog, A Jack Russell Terrier Named Badger

Here is Badger's recent fashion pose.  Meredith denies taking these photos, instead blaming them on Marcus.

Badger is nearly 10 years old now, and I've had him since March, 2001, when I adopted him from the B.A.R.C. animal rescue in Redlands.  Badger's provenance as a rescue dog is really something, since the B.A.R.C. group had rescued him from a shelter in Hemet, CA, within only three days of him being scheduled to be euthanized.  They had him for a few months, and he was first adopted to a lady with a small trailer, who kept him for three days before bringing him back, after, according to her, he tore up every cushion and pillow in her trailer.  Today, Badger officially has to be the "World's Best Dog" - at least as far as I'm concerned.  No one could ask for a better companion or pet, even if he is occasionally a cowardly and cringing fellow, and quite entitled about his soft "thrones" - as can be seen in this picture from Meredith's room.

And guess what?  Look who's back, after a year!

Yes, Taz is back with us, and fatter than ever.  Taz is the rescue Chihuahua I acquired over two years ago, as a "temporary" home.  It was only supposed to be a week or two.  It turned into a year. 

When we first took Taz home, it became clear pretty soon that the carrying case he came in had been his permanent home for a long time.  According to the vet, he's about the same age as Badger, but there the similarities end.  At first, he was terrified of the lawn, and wouldn't even walk on it.  In terms of taking him for a walk, he saw no reason to walk if he didn't have to, and even as fat as he is, he doesn't weigh much over 5 pounds, so "walking" Taz amounted to dragging him along by the leash, where, like a toddler, he would fuss until you gave up and picked him up and carried him.

Most of the time, I called (and now again call) him "Fatti."  Fatti Taz could barely walk and breathe when we got him, he was so overweight.  He made terrifying wheezing noises.  And he had the strangest bark, more like a duck's hoarse quack, which the vet said was a result of his previous owner trying to debark him.  Upon the first time we took him home, we discovered his little black claws had grown so long they'd curled around and some were even growing into his little pads.  He had doggy dandruff too, and needed a good teeth cleaning.  $1,000 later, with shots, medication and a special diet . . . Taz became a much better-tempered little guy, started to enjoy his walks and even started to run, play and be able to climb up and down from the furniture.  His favorite activities were still eating (especially Taco Bell as we found to our horror on a rare fast food evening) and of course - sleeping.

Anyway, we sent a much healthier, happier Taz to live with Marcus' grandpa eight months ago.  Grandpa seemed happy with him, but as of last week, Grandpa moved and could no longer have a pet, so Meredith and Marcus drove up to Lancaster and picked up . . . I'll call him Mr. Backslider now. Taz came back with a new collar, a case of "Little Caesar" soft food, two giant tubs of doggie treats - and I swear, twice as fat as he was in the first place.  He could truly barely walk, and the noises he was making were twice as scary as before.  He was such a fatster that before when he was severely overweight, he'd had rolls on the back of his neck that took several months to smooth out as he lost weight eating properly and getting some exercise.  Now?  He's so fat that it's filled out the rolls!  Previously chubby Taz looked like a small brown chihuahua pig.  Now, he has the same general profile and coloring as a cow.  He is so big, his feeble little legs literally bow to each side as the poor little guy tries to stagger around.

Taking the two of them out for a walk is horrific because Badger can't wait for Taz to hobble along, and Taz has reverted to the "Why should I bother to walk?" behavior.  The last time I did it, I just took Taz off the leash and encouraged him to hobble as far as he could.  When we went back inside, he finally discovered his motivation and was moving as fast as possible so he could get back upstairs and throw his fat little body into his soft bed.  I thought maybe I was going to give the little guy a heart attack, but he was fine, of course.

At times, I grew to detest Taz, because of his dreadful habits or non-habits.  However, he was thrilled to see us, and seemed very happy to settle in, and he is trying to exercise.  He's already dropped a few ounces, just by eating normal food rather than Little Caesar followed up by copious treats.  One of my students told me about the pumpkin diet for overweight dogs and I may try it.  Badger accepted Taz's return like one might greet an elderly, ill-tempered, wheelchair bound relative.

Which brings us to the World's Best Dog.  Badger sort of scared me last week when he ran out of gas so quickly on our hike.  I realized that while he might look great on the outside as always, he might really be getting older and getting tired more quickly.  He is sleeping more than he used to, and he has lost maybe a foot of height on his jumping skills.  He's a little less coordinated, too, and I've noted for the past few months that he's sometimes "underfoot" and also gives me flat tires in his desire to rush ahead or rush around when we're going for a walk.

Badger is truly almost humanly intelligent.  He knew he had a good deal the very day we brought him home from the animal rescue.  He's attached himself to me, so he is mama's dog, even though I originally got him so Meredith could have a pet to care for and learn from.  After going through virtually every negative behavior dogs can have, Badger is now a well-behaved, perfectly trained dog.  There are so many dogs around Playa that it is a big, obvious difference between him and most of the untrained dogs dragging their owners around on their leashes.  He is getting horribly spoiled for attention, as he greets every person around the neighborhood lovingly and gets tons of petting and praise from nearly everyone (it's funny how one out of every 10 or 20 people is not a dog person and reacts fearfully with him - even though he's a 20 lb. dog - and what is he going to do to them?  He's clean and not even slightly slobbery).

I'm not entirely sure at what point I morphed from an old school dog owner to a dog advocate.  It was a gradual process.  For it, I can thank Badger.  That precious, special, wonderful dog speaks for all animals, even though he can only "speak" with his eyes.  And in the words of Taz, "ack, ack, ack!"  Feed me!

Green Beret v. Spetsnaz - Deadliest Warrior Best Yet

You can watch the whole episode of Spike TV's most recent episode of Deadliest Warrior here.  This article gives some good background information on the Russian special forces called Spetsnaz.

Here is another bad review of this show - which everyone I've talked to loves!

Green Berets v. Spetsnaz revisited the Cold War, bringing up patriotic sentiments on both sides.  The show did a great job portraying the different training philosophies and even, really, missions of the Green Berets and the Russian special forces, Spetsnaz.  The Spetsnaz guys were tough-talkers and had a lot of acrobatic combat moves.  The Green Berets were more focused and businesslike in their approach.  The biggest difference:  apparently the Russians didn't/don't care if some guys die as a result of their incredibly tough training regimen.  The Green Berets considered that not only unacceptable, but dumb, as the guy that died would be one less man to fight later on in a real battle.

Which brings me to my main point.  The final battle simulation was close, with only seven battle victories separating the Green Berets and the Spetsnaz.  The difference as far as the computer program was concerned?  The Green Beret sort of blew the short-range pistol demonstration, going through a full five seconds faster than the Spetsnaz, but also missing one target kill - just because he was rushing through.  In addition, the Green Beret E-tool was no match for the Spetsnaz ballistic knife.

However, the biggest factor overlooked in the matchup was that the Spetsnaz haven't seen real combat for decades - their last appearance being in the former Soviet Union's long, disastrous occupation of Afghanistan.  That horrible war might have spawned Osama bin Laden, but it was also the last real fighting for the Russian special forces.  Since that time, of course, American Green Berets have seen combat nearly all over the world, and are currently engaged in Afghanistan, Iraq - and most likely Pakistan, too.  With this factored in, the Green Berets should have been the easy winners.

You won't believe two of the upcoming matchups:  William Wallace v. Shaka Zulu (I can only think this is due to them being both enormous, massively-strong men and leaders of their respective peoples against tyranny) and - can't wait for this bloodbath, rooting for my people - the IRA v. the Taliban!  Oh, yer jokin' are ye?  Nah, and we'll be wipin' the floor with Johnny Taliban's beard we will - just wait and see.

Judge Judy Tells Total Dick Husband and Nasty New Wife to Shove Off

Judge Judy tells stepmom from Hell to butt out and to ask ex-husband to back off his ex-wife and their ridiculous demands.  PRICELESS.

"This twelve-year old has nothing to do with you," said Judge Judy to the stepmother.  The father says "I don't understand," and Judge Judy says, "That's because you are a moron."

Wish she could get hold of Mr. Moron.

"If you can't afford to have two children, you can't have another one," said Judge Judy.  "If you can't afford one child, you don't have fourteen."

How about five?  And playing mommy?  Whee!

Carrie Prejean Retains Her Title

Miss California Carrie Prejean will retain her title, according to Donald Trump - right now.

As many have pointed out, Carrie is really beautiful (The Donald also mentioned this).  She reminds me appearance-wise of Oak Glen's Susan Anton, a long-ago Miss California.  I am pretty sure if my memory serves me right, Susan was in "the other pageant," and also came close to winning.  Susan is the granddaughter of "Blackie" Wilshire, my grandfather's best friend and an Oak Glen pioneer.

Donald definitely put the outrage and attacks on Carrie in their place.  Listening to Carrie's answer about whether or not she supported gay marriage, she did not express her opinion in a hateful or offensive way.  She said people had the right to choose, and that she chose for herself not to support it.  Donald pointed up that the exact answer she gave was also given by President Obama and members of Congress.

"Whether you like it or not," this is the statement that's being made by many people - and it is truly unfair to single Carrie out for all of the criticism she's received.  It's up to the Pageant administrators to determine what is fair and unfair.  I saw her photos and it was obviously an underwear shoot, not a soft-core porn or nude display.  The underwear itself was not overly revealing and her "side boob" could easily have been a slight movement of her arm.  Nearly all underwear ads now are "topless" if they are advertising the bottoms and not a bra. 

I've always been of the opinion that people of diverse points of view will do a lot better if they don't repeat intolerance toward others.  An important difference is that Carrie did say that people had the right to choose for themselves regarding gay marriage.  If she hadn't said that, I could understand people opposing her.  I have friends who are in law enforcement who were working double shifts and extra time to guard the Saddleback Church and others after Proposition 8 was passed last fall.  After several years of thought and consideration (and prayer), I decided that I did support gay marriage.  My main reason is that I hear gay couples expressing joy at being able to marry, and expressing how important it is to them.  I respect that and I believe them when they ask for it to be their right.  I recognize that it's a human right. I don't believe gay couples should "go back in the closet" in any way, but I also think they should accept that just because someone says they do not personally believe in gay marriage (i.e., they wouldn't themselves marry someone of the same sex), doesn't mean they are entitled to be attacked.  The fears and cruelty of the past are moving farther and farther away.  I just don't want to see it move back that way again, for anybody.

I Left Mr. Pokey At Placerita Canyon

This is Badger, cooling his overheated hiney in nearly-dry Placerita creek.  He was good for about a mile, and then he got as hot and tired as the poor little preschool girl I saw as we were leaving.  Her mother and sister were trying to cheer her up, but she had gotten burrs or stickers in her socks -- and waaaahhhhh!

Now that I have my Landrover back (since I bought Meredith her car), I've been itching to go out and take it offroading and hiking.  So what did I do when I finally got the chance yesterday?  I took Badger to one of our favorite previous hiking places - Placerita State Park, which is operated as a natural area and nature center by Los Angeles County.

Placerita Canyon is the site of the first gold discovered in California in 1842, before the more famous later discovery at Sutter's Creek in 1849.  Francisco Lopez fell asleep beneath the "Oak of the Golden Dream," and after having a dream (according to him - he actually had a background in mining and metallurgy) of sleeping on a pool of gold, he went to the nearby Placerita Creek and dug down with his knife, lifting up a wild onion plant with nuggets of gold clinging to its roots.  Gold found in streams like this is called "placer" gold - hence - Placerita Canyon.

Placerita Canyon burned last November during L.A. County's most recent severe fire, which also destroyed a mobile home park in Sylmar.  As I had correctly suspected, the burn brought out the wildflowers, and nature is already recovering from the damage.  The park has posted a number of great wildflower photos on Flickr. 

This is a picture of Dudleya, or live-forever, which is a very pretty succulent that grows out of cracks in rocks.  I saw several on the way in and thought about taking a picture, but I was dead-set on making the waterfall.  Little did I know that the formerly extremely energetic Badger would wuss out after only a mile.  It wasn't that hot!

Placerita Canyon trail is a very easy trail that most hikers ought to be able to complete in a pleasant 45-minute in-and-out jaunt.  The elevation gain is very moderate, although it shares the "great trail" quality of being uphill on the way in, and downhill on the way out.  The short spur to the waterfall from the Walker Ranch area (where there is water and plenty of places to sit - there are also some benches along the way to Walker Ranch, most fairly near the starting point at the Nature Center) is also fairly easy.  It's in this area where I have seen the oil seeps, which upon the first time I saw them, looked exactly like the old scene from the beginning of the "Beverly Hillbillies" - "up from the ground came a-bubblin' crude . . ."

Until I started hiking around Santa Clarita area, I had no idea how much oil was out there.  You hear all types of stories - the oil isn't accessible, there isn't enough, etc.  Well, if you take a walk on the beach in Carpinteria without sandals, you'll have black feet in no time from the tar.  And if you hike anywhere around Santa Clarita, you will smell sulfurous fumes, see sulphur springs, and see plenty of little holes of "bubblin' crude."  This all sounds hellish, but it isn't at all.  Most people who just drive on the freeways or settled city streets have no idea of what Southern California's backcountry is like.  I grew up near the head of the Santa Ana river - now a bone-dry "wash" as it as been for years.  But I well remember as a very young girl hearing the house-sized boulders crashing against each other as a winter storm-swollen Santa Ana ravaged its way down the canyon, and even standing on the service road beside the stream watching somebody's cabin swirl and bobble down the river, chimney still improbably attached.  Heck, I even swam at "Mentone Beach."

This is riparian woodland in Placerita Canyon, a habitat that is unfortunately shrinking in Southern California, despite everyone's efforts to preserve our wild areas, from the Santa Monica Mountains Conservancy to other regional and state efforts.  At times as you hike the Placerita Canyon trail, you can hear the passing cars on the very nearby Placerita Canyon road.  This is not "to the good" for a wilderness experience, but for such an area to be so close to urban Los Angeles, it's okay to take what comes with the territory.

Looking closely at this picture, you can still see some of the burn damage, and this isn't riparian woodland at its height.  Most streams in Southern California are seasonal, and Placerita Creek fits right in -- it's about dry right now and by next weekend will surely be more of a trickle.  I give it about 2 weeks before it runs utterly dry, and will stay that way for about another four months.

You wouldn't think that a child of Russian Jews, stereotypically urban people, would have such an interest in nature.  But I've been out wandering trails, bushwhacking, rock scrambling, tree-climbing and hiding watching for animals almost as long as I've been alive, and I know I got this from my father.  Now, Dad and the International Harvester Travelall cadre is not an exact match for myself and my Landrover, though I think he would have heartily approved of my vehicle of choice - and I hate to say it, but I never would try to drive the Landrover across the Bay of San Quintin when the tide was coming in (story for another day).  I also got the Southern California mountain and woodland treatment from my grandfather, who was a great hunter and fisherman.  Dad - was more of the sport fisherman type, and I know my brother has gear, so let's hope he's using it.

So here we have a familiar fellow, life cut short just as it was getting started.  This is a juvenile rattler - one and a half rattles.  He was not long deceased, I think, and he was pierced upside of his neck and lying in the stream.  It makes me think that a coyote probably got him - there were sort of toothy marks around his neck.  Coming near the stream, I think this young snake was thirsty, and perhaps ran afoul of a coyote who was also taking a drink.

Badger was utterly uninterested in him, which astonished me.  But click on the popup to get a better look.  Poor little guy.

Another place I hope to return to soon is Pico Canyon, which is a most interesting and unusual hike (though also popular with mountain bikers due to the elevation gains and losses).  Pico Canyon is off the 5, not the 14, but also in Santa Clarita.  It is the site of Mentryville, an oil "boomtown" where people lived between the 1880's and 1930 that is now a hikeable, walkable ghost town.  There are plenty of wild areas there - and as my memory serves me right - Pico Canyon is also the site of operating water taps and basins, and . . . flushing toilets.  Always a plus when on a day hike with Mr. Wimpy - oops - I meant Badger.

Oops! Your Totally Unhip Wussness is Showing, New Yorker

Apparently all the super-rabid Trekkies out there seem to have thought Chris Pine couldn't be a very good James Ti-Beeer-ee-uss Kirk.  And, apparently, the totally unhip, oldschool, comically arch Anthony Lane of the New Yorker thought he was doing right by panning the new Star Trek movie.  Well, apparently according to the Tomatometer, 8% of other critics agree with him, and 92% do not.

Guess what?  Chris Pine is a perfect Kirk.  And Zach "Sylar" Quinto (now "Spock" Quinto) is beyond a perfect Spock.   

It was bound to happen sooner or later.  It's been happening for a while, really.  The New Yorker has stayed the same, while the rest of the globe has moved on.  No longer able to frighten West Coast creative artists with their "sophistication," and no longer in the Pauline Kael terror-mode - well, it's really amazing, because Pauline Kael actually liked Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan and singled it out to praise Ricardo Montalban's performance as KHAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNN.  You have to give it to the cruel old girl, because she was capable of calling them as she saw them. 

J.J. Abrams has many happy films ahead - because this Star Trek is great.  It takes all the great elements of the original Star Trek series and updates them for today - and the future.  As many others have commented, Gene Roddenberry's original vision was right in the 1960's and it's still right today.  My daughter went to see the movie immediately with Marcus, and she's anything but a ST fan of any type.  "Is Kirk a dick?" I asked her. 

"Yes," she said.

"Does he get the girl?"

"No - Spock gets the girl." 

Which girl?  Oh - the black girl.  Uhura???  Uhura!!!

If you listen to all the original ST cast members (of whom Leonard Nimoy only appears in the new film), all have an awareness of something incredibly important coming out of their 60's cheesy sci fi TV show.  Mr. Smarty Pants Lane of the New Yorker thinks he's being funny when making fun of the communicators in the film, seeming "old fashioned" due to their being so similar to cell phones.  Uh, yeah, Anthony.  While you were sipping Cosmos and pretending your neighborhood was the center of the universe, one of those dweebs who grew up watching Star Trek invented the cell phone.  So, like, it would be like - a communicator, you know.  The only frustration at the time was that it didn't turn out more like a communicator.  This was pre-RAZR, of course.

The real thing about ST was, of course, everything that is up there on the screen right now, and growing day by day in our own real world.  Not the cheesy, preachy, dumbass Star Wars world (thanks, Jar Jar - if you weren't so bad CGI, I might go and kill you myself to put you out of your misery).  The Force?  WTF?

All I really have to say about the new Star Trek movie is a) boldly go to see it; and b) Kirk did get a girl - a classic, retro-undie-wearing green-skinned red-haired girl - Uhura's roommate!  Oh - and next time - bring back the classic Klingons!  (Thank you, one and all).

Did Star Trek give a bad name to sci fi?  No, never! 

* * * * * *

Wait!  I think they should update the Harcourt Fenton Mudd character - and of course - tribbles.