If It Bleeds (2020)

Hey, look what came in the mail the other day:

Bless you, Amazon.

Four new novellas from Stephen King. Just finished last night. You? 

No? Caution: there be spoilers ahead. Yes? Let's boogie. 

"Mr. Harrigan's Phone"

A teenager finds that a dead friend's cell phone, that was buried with the body, still communicates from beyond the grave.

That’s the wiki plot summary. I was going to use it because I was having trouble coming up with my own and got sick of trying. But really, Wikipedia? That’s terrible. All of their summaries are terrible for this book, actually. Have a look:

The Life of Chuck: As the world around him crumbles into oblivion, a man realizes that he contains multitudes.

If It Bleeds: Holly Gibney of the Finders Keepers detective agency is working on the case of a missing dog when she sees footage of a school bombing on TV. But when she tunes in to the late-night report, she realizes there is something not quite right about the correspondent who was first on the scene. Soon, she will find that she is not the only one to have suspicions about the reporter.

Rat: A writer with writer's block, seeks a devilish bargain to help him finish a novel.

Each is somewhat accurate, but... not quite. And what details are accurate are haphazard. Also grammatically dubious. I can only assume since it's brand new they didn't want wikipedia to put too much in the entry. But still! Mainly I'm just annoyed because now I have to do it. So here goes: 

Craig, a preteen living with his widower father, is hired to read to Mr. Harrigan, a retired rich guy with whom he strikes an unlikely friendship. He buys the elderly man an iPhone - one of the first models - as a present, and when the old man dies, he slips it into his shirt pocket to be buried with him. 

When he calls the phone to hear his friend's voice, he ends up leaving a message out of habit, mostly to unburden himself, about a kid who was bullying him. Days later, he discovers the bully has hung himself. Craig (last name not given - I don't think) has received his first text message from beyond the grave...

Better? A little.

The set-up starts as straight out of "Low Men in Yellow Coats" but doesn't stay there. Except - we've seen this before haven't we? What story am I thinking of? Isn't it one of the ones in Bazaar of Bad Dreams? Not the specific cellphone in a dead man's pocket but the wishing death on people and people killing themselves? Maybe I'm just thinking of Dinky and "Everything's Eventual." 

Whatever the case, I thought this was kind of underwhelming. Perfectly fine, I mean, if it was King's only story, you'd read it and say hey, that guy had a pretty natural style, that was pretty good. Wonder what else he would've done? But having written so much and having covered any theme coming up in here any other number of times, it felt a bit perfunctory to me. Not much to distinguish this protagonist from others, this set-up here from that set-up there, etc. 

I like to try and figure out which novella was written after which book, as he's talked about how they're sort of working out different angles of the work that is (then-currently) cooling in first draft mode.  He says in the Author's Note that he's had the idea since he was a kid watching Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and it re-fired in his imagination when a friend died and King called his cellphone to hear his voice one last time. Kind of sad, that. No kind of about it. Anyway: my guess is after after Finder's Keepers. Possibly Revival, maybe. Just a hunch.

Much of the action takes place in Gates Falls, so of course I'm wondering if there’s a Graveyard Shift (or Kingdom Hospital) connection I missed. 

"The Life of Chuck"

Novella number two is split into three sections: (1) Marty and his ex-wife grapple with the impending apocalypse. As the world around them shuts down, little by little, they keep seeing strange tributes to an unknown accountant named Chuck Krantz, first on billboards and marquees, then on Netflix, then projected onto people's front windows. (2) Chuck Krantz dances to a busker boy in Beantown. And (3) Chuck remembers the haunted room at his grandparents' house where he grew up, where his grandfather saw his grandmother's death and where Chuck sees a vision of his own. 

“The human brain is finite – no more than a sponge of tissue inside a cage of bone – but the mind within the brain is infinite. The storage capacity is colossal, its imaginative reach beyond our ability to comprehend. I think when a man or woman dies, a whole world falls to ruin – the world that person knew and believed in. Think of that, kiddo – billions of people on earth, and each one of those billions with a world inside. The earth that minds have conceived.”

The above is kind of the theme of each of these stories in If It Bleeds, except the title one. It's made perhaps a little too explicitly in the 'I contain multitudes' motif running through these, mainly because I'm not sure if Chuck as presented does contain multitudes. While true of every human, every life (as mentioned in the previous novella, that old proverb: "When an old man dies, it's like a library has burned down.") ... I mean, what are Chuck's multitudes? A divorced couple? A busker boy and a random woman from the crowd? It just doesn't hold together as the unifying metaphor he wants it to, I don't think. Maybe for life, but not for this story-cycle.

It is sort of a meditation of King on his life/ life in general. “Why did you stop to listen, and why did you stop to dance?” but when he forgets all else, he will remember: “how he stopped, and dropped his briefcase, and began to move his hips to the beat of the drums, and he will think that is why God made the world. Just that.” Or as the drummer-kid says, ‘you lose the beat if you stop and think too much.’ King's said the same thing about writing, plenty of times. 

Thing is, like I say, for me this just isn't very compelling fiction. He made the same dancing-as-Shiva-gestalt point more effectively elsewhere. (11/22/63, "Willa", et al.) There's no meat here: I mean the story is literally: kid plays drum on street, business-guy dances, woman from crowd dances, the three talk about how "wow, we were dancing" and then there's all this wordy reaching around it for cosmic revelation.

Part three is pretty cool. (Although it reminded me a bit of one story from Skeleton Crew, or maybe from another collection. I must resume my King's Short Fiction project one of these days.) Parts one and three are pretty great, actually; part two just isn't. It's just not an interesting set of events, no matter how you dress it up. I'm reminded of Kerouac's dictum 'it's not whatcha write, it's the way that you write it." But the way he told it part of the problem; it's just a lot of wordy reaching for cosmic resonance. Sort of like Elevation (which is my vote for what he finished writing before finishing this one) was, although no one would call that work "wordy." 

Too bad, as parts one and three could've worked well on their own, but hobbled together with part two and as a trilogy of interlocking revelation, they do not. I was reminded of Hearts in Atlantis, particularly the stories that aren't the title novella or "Low Men in Yellow Coats." The chase is interesting but unsuccessful.

"If It Bleeds"

I won't hazard a guess as to when this one was written. Clearly after The Outsider, but from his "I wonder what's happening with Holly Gibney?" remarks in the Author's Note at the end of the book, I don't get the impression it was written immediately after. 

This one is mostly fine. It's an effective little mystery, I guess, although there are some aspects that didn't work me. Namely: (1) the cross-cutting at the end, to "build suspense." These sections of King’s work, almost always at the end of a story, where it’s just a couple of paragraphs of slow-moving cross-cutting that sometimes occupy up to 50 pages of text, replete with big white spaces between all the sections, would take four or five seconds of screen time. It’s not all about economy, but one wonders who finds this stuff exciting. Same can be found in each of the Hodges books as well as the agonizing last 100 pages of Dreamcatcher. (2) Most of the denouement, which is like a bad Garrison Keillor pastiche (Christmas with the Robinsons, Holly and her Mom) but not all of it. Not terrible, just a tad overwrought. And (3) The heavy hand of the author, not in a political sense but in the "I am telling you a bunch of things about the elevator, very conspicuously, so get ready for the elevator to come back into play" sense. More than once. Early on, when it was spending so much time (and by that I mean, only a page and a half or so) on Chet's back and forth with the CNN anchor it felt like he was waving something in the air behind the character's heads, then you turn the page and oh: there it is. King is weird about stuff like that. On one hand, the elevator-details / Chet-aforementioned are so conspicuous, then on the other, he buries little things, like Holly's imaginary name for the killer, obliquely referenced once again at the end. He's too cagey about some things and way too much of a "tell" with others. 

I mean, I mostly liked it fine. It's better than any of the Hodges books (maybe not the middle one actually) but frankly that's not too hard. It's not better than The Outsider, so why would you do it? I get trying, but why release it, I mean? Like "Mr. Harrigan's Phone" (or Doctor Sleep) this would be a delightful posthumous discovery, but I can't see why he'd feel the need to publish it. I guess he's beyond not publishing stuff; what he writes gets published, end of story. If I were his editor, I'd be more cautious. But hey. 

Part of what makes The Outsider work is the characters having to reconcile reality and unreality, piecing together a conventional murder mystery (evidence, counter-evidence, motive, lawyers, etc.) with a conventional horror story (the monster, etc.) But none of that happens here, just a huge (and somewhat improbable) info dump from an old guy who (somewhat improbably) has been "tracking" the monster for decades. Which is fine: I mean, it makes sense for any continuation of Holly's story to not cover the same ground of convincing the world the supernatural exists. But, not as effective storytelling, for me. He comes up with a clever way to get Holly and the old guy together, but the old guy isn't very believable.

Speaking of, her contention that she has found "another Outsider" is kind of weird, isn't it? I mean it's another doppelganger type, sure, or as she says, different breeds for different dogs. But a cocker spaniel has the same gestation period and endocrine system as a german shepherd. Or a gray wolf, for that matter. Whereas this Outsider can change wily-nily to pre-set people: a completely different operation than the creature she faced in the other book. If she wanted to say this was some distant cousin of said creature, okay, but no such distinction is made. That seemed odd for a character like Holly.

A word on the central motif of this one, wrapped up in the title: there are certainly those (and making them media people is apt) who feed on fear and panic, and who thrive on the fear and panic of others. It's just weird that real-world-Steve is so fine not just cozying up to them but actively and aggressively enabling such a thing. In his media-life, absolutely, but perhaps, to a point, in his fiction, as well. I won't argue with you if you disagree, but it seems pretty obvious to me that he has no problem stoking fear and loathing and undoubtedly draws sustenance from doing so, both individually and in a group. 

I had a lot more written on this point, but long story short: King is a bit of an Outsider himself, but he's also - perhaps the greater part of him - Holly Gibney as well. 

"Rat"

A would-be novelist is seized by an idea he must complete. He heads to a family cabin in the unincorporated townships of Maine to flesh it out, just in time for a big-ass storm and an encounter with a wish-granting rat. 

Long story short: it was all rat.

Nah, it was more than that. I was a little let down by the ending. Kind of fizzles to a close, this one. Also, in the haven't-we-seen-this-before side of things, it brought to mind both "Fair Extension" and "Gerald's Game," and, despite taking pains to distinguish him from others, many other King protagonists. None of these were hills to die on, but perhaps it needed a kick-ass ending to distinguish itself somewhat and didn't get one. 

I avoided reading my buddy Bryant's review of this one until just now, but as he points out, making Drew Larson a writer and "Rat" another story about a writer writing: "King's writer protagonists form one of the elements of his career that can sometimes be used satirically; if you're trying to write a King pastiche, it's probably going to contain an evil clown or a rabid dog or a haunted ___________ (e.g., car), and the main character is going to be a writer in Maine. Thing is, King writes writers pretty damn well."

And that's also the long and short of it. Not just write what you know, but write what you know well. I think novellas and stories are (by his own admission) a sort of post-novel cleansing of the palate/ yoga stretch for King, and it's probably good for his writing muscles to just do some twelve bar blues for a start and see what develops.

I did chuckle that this self-pastiche also included a big-ass storm at the end and at least one character talking telepathically. 

And another one (like the first part of "Life of Chuck") where real-world verisimilitude creeped me out while reading. Had I read this a month ago - when I was waking up in the middle of the night sucking for breath with my lungs aching and wondering if my kids were going to find me dead in the morning and the world ending in anger and fear and the crazy Chicago winds and rain hitting the window and voices in my head droning on about the vast unfulfilled promise to myself about writing a book anytime up to now - I'd have thought King was speaking directly to me.

You hear that from a lot of King fans, that feeling of being spoken directly to, of writing directly commenting on your situation. It reminds me of something Chuck Klosterman wrote about Billy Joel. It's a lot harder to write something that appeals to a broad cross-section of the world (and all their individual multitudes) than it is something that simply  expresses the uniqueness of the author. Many people have that backwards in their estimation of artists. Hats off - all the hats off - to King, once more. 

~

Which brings me to the end. I always feel a mix of melancholy and gratitude when I get to the inevitable "And you, Constant Reader, thanks to you" line before closing the book. 

There's a new feeling these days, which I wish did not exist but there's no point pretending otherwise, this feeling of  "how long do I have left to count myself among these ranks?" Not in the death-and-oblivion way, but in the pointed-exclusion/exile-from-Constant-Reader-land way. There's such cancel-culture pressure going on these days - over optics, not of substance - where anyone's fandom/ affection can suddenly be un-personed. Put baldly, it sure feels like King/ other Constant Readers are saying more and more these days "If you don't think a, b, or c, then you are not welcome here." 

This is the main reason why I avoid social-media-King. It's painful to be reminded of this and to feel such an indelible part of my life and imagination could be taken from me - and I mean taken, not given up voluntarily - with just one thoughtless tweet or smug appearance on Colbert, as cheered on mercilessly by all in that loop of thinking. As if it were actually in the power of even the author or my fellow readers to “cancel” anyone's Constant Readerhood. 

It's not that it's incredibly difficult to do this, but it's an extra step, and it's a segregation-minded step, and to be honest I really have grown to resent it. The opposite - to float downstream of One True Narrative, with God on your side (so to speak) and think problems outside the stream are self-inflicted or imaginary - this strikes me as comparatively easy. Moreover - and irritatingly - it is exactly this sort of difficulty/ examination that works like "If It Bleeds" purport to examine; what is the media doing and what are its consumers doing? Who is exploiting it, and to what purpose? For whose benefit?

Meh. It's a note I'd rather not end on, friends. But it's what the last line of the Author's Note brought to mind. 

I also, however, feel another way, which still - thankfully - overridesany other: like I’ve made it to another rung on a ladder that stretches back to my childhood and hopefully up into the unforeseen horizon. 

Ain't (Done) Talkin' Bout (Van Halen)

Honor demands that since I did a top ten for the Van Hagar era I had to do one for the David Lee Roth era. 

I went ahead and made a playlist rather than linking to each below. Here it is. (God do I hate Grammarly ads.) You can keep it handy and click where applicable/ desired, or you can go for the big prize, Brewster, and crank Van Halen I through 1984, over and over again in your stereo of choice. Repeat as necessary. 

Limiting myself to only ten songs of the DLR era seemed a crime against nature, so here's the top fifteen. I avoided covers as a mild policy (mild meaning I made an exception for this rule almost immediately, below.) 

Without further ado...

15.

"Hang 'Em High"

It was a neck-and-neck finish right up to the end between this one and "Take Your Whiskey Home." What pushed this one ahead is mostly that middle 8. This song is, subject-matter-wise, kind of unlike anything else the band ever did. Unless it's some metaphor I've never unraveled for the usual hi-jinks. 

14.

"Big Bad Bill is Sweet William Now"

Here's my exception to the cover rule. Is it their best cover? Probably not, but it's the one I picked. I love that Mr. Van Halen, Sr. plays clarinet on this, and it's no surprise to discover Eddie sounds as masterful doing Django Reinhardt-type runs and strumming as he does doing everything else. 

My wife and I are watching The Wire. Her first time, my third or fourth. This would make a good, totally-confusing accompaniment to one of the end-of-the-season montages. I'm thinking of the Marlo one at the end of s5, I guess. I keep joking that everytime one of the characters is driving and we see the "rap music playing" subtitle that the funniest thing ever would be if each of those scenes had Aerosmith and Run DMC's "Walk This Way" playing over those parts. You should try this; it's hilarious. I hope some enterprising young junior high kid out there gets on this and uploads such a thing to YouTube. ("Just give me a kiss!")

I say this for the same reason I am writing this: the therapeutic value of finding your own laughter, particularly in the face of absurd and unambiguously-suck-ass circumstances like the ones we find ourselves in, or of cranking Van Halen, cannot be discounted. 

13.

"D.O.A."

This riff is awesome. They simply do not make the Eddie Van Halen model anymore. That factory shut down, probably for good. This isn't as unprecedented as it sounds; they don't make the W.A. Mozart or Glenn Miller or Frank Sinatra models anymore, either. Time and place. We're just lucky to have seen it/ lived it. Crank it!

Captured forever in every Van Halen song of this period, like forty million year old flies preserved in amber, is some endless SoCal late-70s/early-80s house party, where kids are sneaking in more and more booze, the host's house is getting trashed, and kids are skateboarding in the empty swimming pool. 

12.

"Beautiful Girls"

I was not listening to much Van Halen during my years at the University of Rhode Island 1992-1994. This was pretty much my Phish/ The Beatles/ Jane's Addiction phase. (Also Sinatra - so it goes.) And yet: all memories of the years I spent in Kingston, RI (particualrly that first party-drenched year of 1992-1993) seem accompanied by this song. Not sure when or how that happened, but apparently it is the official song to all mental recollections of this era in my life. As a friend reminded me, too, it was the original soundtrack to this politically incorrect but nevertheless harmless and still-funny fake commercial for Schmidt's Gay from back when SNL wasn't just yet another blunt narrative instrument. I'd forgotten about that - definitely funnier with the Van Halen. 

Beyond that, it's a great song, full of sunshine, that expresses an essential truth. And even if you find yourself alone on some world bereft of beautiful people, it still works as an ironic reminder of the ridiculousness of your surroundings. 

11.

"Romeo Delight"

This one comes charging out of the gate. If the whole song kept up the energy of that opening breakout, it'd probably be my favorite Van Halen tune all around. But it kind of falters in some of the other sections. Nevertheless, another in the essential Van Halen arsenal. (And another about sneaking whiskey into the party. Outside of sex, it always seems to come down to sneaking booze in to the party with Van Halen. 

I like when David Lee Roth drawls "I know the law, friend." Woe be to the defendant with David Lee Roth as his or her lawyer.)

10.

"Top Jimmy"

This song - named after, I believe, their coke contact at some New York club - has such a lovely intro. I love when people get unexpected sounds out of a guitar, whether they're Sonic Youth, Yes, or Van Halen, or whomever. Van Halen's whole discography (up to a certain point in the nineties) is like a museum for this phenomenon.

I love the rest of it, too, but that intro - and when it comes back in later - hypnotizes me.

9.

"The Full Bug"

Awesome riff, fantastic energy. Honestly, there's nothing for me to type up.

As I write these words, my two girls are camped in front of the TV in the room next to mine singing along - for the hundredth or thousandth time, I don't know - to their YouTube playlist of Descendants song. (That's Disney, not Milo Goes to College.) "When I say All, you say Day! ALL DAY! ALL! DAY!") They love this crap. My son, on the other hand, awaits his turn for the millionth playing of "Everybody Poops" by the GoNoodle weirdos, or "Wie Sir Die Roboter" by Kraftwerk, which he freaking loves. Over and over. (Two of my three children went through a huge Kraftwerk phase in this two-to-three-year-old range; someone needs to study this.)

I'm just saying, it makes sense why I'm cranking so much Van Halen. Beyond just for its own sake.

8.

"I'm the One"

This is the one I, like a lot of people I bet, always remember as "Show Your Love." Even nowadays, after you'd figure I'd have learned this by now, when looking at my notes for this post (yes, I took notes - which seems a very un-Van-Halen-thing to do) I had to cross out "Show Your Love" from my list of songs to include. 

How many times have I heard this song? Going back to when I'd cut lawns with this in my headphones (at a blistering volume so I could hear it over the lawnmower) and I had a Van Halen mix tape with this as song #2 (right after "And the Cradle Will Rock") - I mean, shoot, that summer alone, fifty times at least. Multiply times however many in the thirty years since.

Still rocks! 

This guy definitely agrees.

7.

"Ain't Talkin' 'bout Love"

Like anyone else out there, probably, I'm sick of this song. It's just one of those ubiquitous classic rock radio songs. But I have to give it its due as pretty much a classic tune. I try to listen to it with fresh ears and can think of little to improve.

I have an enduring joke I try to make happen with this song, by the way. It never works and won't work now, but hey, here it is. You remember those rumors about how "In the Air Tonight" was about a real-life drowning that Phil Collins saw? So disturbed, he wrote the song, got the guy who let the girl drown on the beach to come to his concert, then brought him to the concert to expose his crime to the world? I doubt this urban legend is as well-distributed these days as it once was, but it used to. Anyway, I always picture David Lee Roth doing something similar at a concert during the middle 8 where it gets dramatic. ("You know I lost a lot of friends there, baby...")

But what would he be talking about? That's where the joke gets murky. The best I've ever come up with is: he was at The Edge's house, once, hanging out with U2, and he was on his back deck, and they were looking down at the rocks crashing into the surf or something, which I imagine is the view from any successful rocker's backyard, and the Edge told him a Large Marge-type tale of all the people who stood there, looking down, and fell to their deaths, and the experience scarred DLR. 

True story. That happened. 

6.

"Sunday Afternoon in the Park"

Holy smokes this song is cool. Fair Warning is a bit of an anomaly for Van Halen records. It's also a tad overrated by VH fans, in my opinion. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy it - listened to it in all its thirty-one-minute glory just yesterday as a matter of fact - but there's a certain type of VH fan who carries on and on about how it's their Sgt. Pepper's or something. It isn't. It's not bad, but it's not their best album. (Of the DLR era, that'd either be 1984 or the first one or Women and Children First. Fight me.) 

My old band did a song called "Saturday Afternoon in the Park" which was about what happens in that park (wait for it) the day before. (Spoiler alert: just a bunch of nonsense.) The song's not at that link, just while we're here.

5.

"Jump"

Here's another one people might be sick of, I don't know. You have to include it, though, or the Van Halen Police will come take you away.

A well-deserved classic of both rock radio and the 80s. It's a breath of mental fresh air. I still crack up at some of DLR's frontman-tourette's, like when he says "AAAA-OOH! (Who said that?) Baby, how you been..." My old band (again!) had a song called "Rock Balls," where I did my best DLR impression during the chorus, just call-and-response-ing random nonsense. Sammy does a good impersonation (maybe even a better one) of this approach on "Source of Infection" later in the band's career.

Another one of those I like: from DLR's "Just a Gigolo" where he's yelling all of that indecipherable gibberish at the end and the band is singing it back at him. "Loop de loo! (loop de loo!) Gottazeewash! (gottazeewash!) Over there! (over there!") Man, that "over there!" cracks me up, like he's directing the band's attention to something happening in the studio or something. 

Anyway, might as well jump.

4.

"Panama"

I thought this one would be number one, prior to ranking these. I've always referred to it as my favorite VH tune. How about that? The covid has taught me something new. 

Anyone who came of age in the MTV era has indelible memories of not just this tune but probably any of their videos from 1984 or Dave's solo stuff. It was just such a part of the cable-television-oxygen back in the day.

What a great tune, though. Some of my favorite rock guitar ever in this tune. As well as in:

3.

"Ice Cream Man"

This tends to be most people I talk to's favorite VH song. Easy to see why. Fun stuff, very sing-along-y, and that freakin' roller-coaster-picking-you-up-and-sweeping-along effect of Eddie's guitar once it breaks in. The band, in some respects, peaked early: never sounded better than on this track. Unless it's:

2.

"Hot for the Teacher"

To quote Dave from near the song's ending "Oh My God....!"

I do love "Ice Cream Man," don't get me wrong. But I feel the "Van Halen"ness of that one is surpassed ever so slightly by the VH-ness of this one. Alex and Eddie mesh together in this one better than just about anywhere in their catalog (and when they mesh, it always rocks) and DLR's David-Lee-Roth-ness is appropriately sleazy. 

In many ways I don't think I've ever gotten over the first time this song really clicked for me. I've liked it from the first - who wouldn't? - but there was a time in the early 90s when I heard it at the right party, I guess, or under the right mix of party accouterments, and that break back into the riff after the first verse hit my head like an electrical storm. Is anything cooler than that? Holy moley. To quote the later singer for the band, it gives me some of that unh-huh unh-HNNNNH-unh! Which is the VH equivalent of "je ne sais quoi" I guess.

1.

"Everybody Wants Some"

And here we go. Like I said, the emergence of this one as my favorite VH song has been something of a surprise, but not really: I've always loved it. This is one of those I cannot simply listen to at a normal volume, as my family has discovered everytime it's been on. Which lately has been a lot. 

Anyone who first heard it - and I'm one of them - in Better Off Dead probably has visions of hamburgers playing metal guitar and John Cusack as some kind of mad scientist (a scene which, according to some, forever split Cusack from Savage Steve Holland, despite their collaborating again on One Crazy Summer). Understandable, but now I've got a new association: mainly my son's crazy dancing when he hears it. Rock and roll - as I mentioned when covering "Best of Both Worlds" from the Van Hagar post - affects him very deeply. ("Like Chris Farley on cocaine," says his mother. And she's very accurately describing the scene in our kitchen from a few nights ago, watching him whirl around.) It's tough to describe except it involves headbanging, holding up both hands in V-salutes, twirling around, spinning himself around on the floor, etc. 

So, I have a new reason to love it, above, but beyond that, holy crap, this song would be a more enlightened America's theme song. I don't know what it is, even, but I want it when I hear it, and I want to punch a damn communist in the face to get it, and to make sure everyone can get it. A good test of someone's economic literacy is to play this and see if they feel compelled to Marxist word salad. If so, keep cranking it until you can't hear them anymore or drive them back to Ho Chi Minh City. 

Was this one of the songs they blasted at the embassy to drive Noriega out, now that I think about? Or to get Revolutionary Guard officers to spill their secrets? It should've been. Every enemy (or in the case of Noriega, re-captured asset) of America will fall before "Everybody Wants Some." In a perfect world, it would be screamed from the rooftops to let the heavens know the afterworld has received another present from Uncle Sam. 

All right, maybe not! Your mileage may vary. One thing that does not: the perfection of this song. In whatever Voyager aircraft we send to the stars that exclusively showcases the hair metal of our third rock from the sun, this one should be cranked above all others. 

~

I think that might be all I have to say on this topic. I don't see one of these materializing for the Gary Cherone era. Keep on rockin' in the free world, my friends; don't let the bastards grind you down.

Star Trek: The Next Generation, Season Two

The re-watch continues. Let's do this.

22.

Commander Riker is poisoned on an away mission and falls into a coma and relives various moments of his service aboard the Enterprise.

On one hand, it's an easy pick for the bottom spot. It's a clips-show. Nothing wrong with clips-shows, especially in production seasons of yesteryear, and especially this particular one. (The 2nd season of TNG, like everything else produced that year, got hit with a huge writer's strike right in the middle of it. Sidenote: did that strike result in getting whatever it was the striking writers wanted? Has it ever been walked back or rendered obsolete by any subsequent development? Just curious - maybe someone out there knows.)

On the other hand, as clips-show go, it's not actually that bad. Compare to your standard Golden Girls one, or whatever example you want (up to a certain point - once shows started doing fake-clips shows and other meta-stuff, all bets were off). At times it feels like the type of training video you'd see at a new job orientation or something, where you'd pause every so often and answer questions as a group. 

Ultimately, it's a love letter to Riker's first two seasons on TNG, which is kind of a weird enough idea to be memorable. They should have done one for each of the cast members, each nodding off into a coma before an exasperated Pulaski, one after the other. I can't say it's anything other than what it was - filler to satisfy the at-least-22-episodes order for syndication - but it could've been worse. It'd have helped if all the clips themselves were better; Riker, like every member of the cast (except Pulaski, I guess), wasn't at his best in the first two seasons.

Since this turned out to be Pulaski's last episode, let's say they DID make it a whole-cast clips show, with all the comas, like I just said. It could have ended with her curing them all but heroically self-sacrificing herself in the process, then Picard could wrap up her time on the show with one of his nice memorials. It'd have been a better exit than the one she got.

21.

Scientist Dr. Ira Graves cheats death by uploading his memories and personality into Lt. Commander Data.

Most of this episode is fine enough, but once Graves possesses Data, Spiner gives such an exaggerated performance that it undermines the concept. Unless Graves - referred to again and again as a genius - is rather unintelligibly allowing himself to act as out of control and not-like-Data as possible, he sandbags his own plan by acting so conspicuously.

I think the aforementioned writer's strike is the culprit for so many Trek-repeat-motifs in this season. In this episode alone we have the girl raised in the remote outpost by the dying, angry scientists, the scientist's whole attitude re: technology and laws and other ornery old coot cliches, the takeover of a body, etc.

Guest performances: Graves is that Medal of Honor guy, right, ("Bad news, Patterson...") Also, many other things, and R.I.P. We'll see Suzie Plakson (Lt. Selar) appear again as K'Ehleyr, and the One Tree Hill (among other things) lady plays Kareen. I'm not going to do these sort of imdb links for everyone, this is just one of those episodes where I kept trying to figure out where I'd seen or heard people before, then looked them up and was like "Oh, duh."

20.

 

The Enterprise becomes trapped in a spatial phenomenon., where they are subjected to unusual experiments by the whim of a being unlike any they have encountered before.

That plot write-up isn't quite accurate. The Enterprise (both this one and previous one) has encountered beings like this before. Too many, in fact; it's part of that repeat-Trek-motif-fatigue I mentioned before. Although perhaps "fatigue" is too harsh, more like mildly tiresome. Still better than anything on the new Picard show. One wishes they'd maybe repeat a few Trek-motifs here and there on that one. 

Still, considering the amount of times we've seen these things, these reactions, these escalations, these elements in play at episode's end, it might as well have been a clips show. Not terrible, though; really, season two is a lot better than I remembered.

19.

The Prime Directive is threatened when Data befriends the child of a pre-warp planet that is suffering from devastating volcanic activity.

I feel kind of bad not enjoying this episode very much, as it's got several genuinely sweet moments (though many more that are too saccharine or manipulative) but it's not a fave. Data might have been the wrong character to go so off-the-book like this. If the intent was to show how a lifeform like Data - always by the book, incapable of independently throwing the prime directive to one side to indulge a sentimental impulse, unless specifically rationalized in the script (as it was in Insurrection, for example) - could evolve or react this way, then okay, but that's never really explored or mentioned.

One of those Prime Directive "case law" episodes fated to never impact another episode's interpretation of the prime directive.

18.

Dr. Katherine Pulaski  joins the Enterprise while Geordi prepares the Enterprise to transport dangerous plague specimens. Meanwhile, Counselor Troi spontaneously becomes pregnant and gives birth to a mysterious child.

Two things about this one: there's at least one other Trek episode like this (on Voyager) but I suspect it's something we've seen elsewhere, too. Is anyone emotionally affected by turns of events like these? I suspect not. Harmless enough, but a life event that is gone by the end of the episode has its impact as a life event instantly negated. This was of course the unstated goal of most television of the era: return things to the status quo by episode's end. Still.

There is one moment that knocks on the door of something greater than silly-plot-twist, when they're all assembled in the ready room discussing what might be done with the situation. Although it is in context of what to be done with a crew member infected with an alien unknown, it evokes a palpable sense of fear and inappropriateness of a bunch of men discussing what should happen to a woman's body, primarily through the performances of Sirtis and Muldaur and the way it is filmed with tight close-ups of an increasingly uncomfortable Troi . In a military situation, of course, such a thing would be chain of command, feelings/ optics aside. Starfleet is technically military, despite the many qualifications they give to that, but it was all handled thoughtfully, I felt.

Second, like many people I never cared for Pulaski. Or, at least, I thought I never did. I like Beverly and over the years just assumed it was that, preferring one to the other. Plus, her (Pulaski's) whole thing with Data never made sense to me. It seemed prejudicial. But, I cannot lay that at her (the character or the actress)'s door; this was a failure of the writers.

What I discovered on this re-watch (and I should thank Bryant Burnette for championing the good doctor over the years, which probably positively predisposed me to her) was she is both a compelling character, and Diana Muldaur does a great job bringing her to life.

17.

The Enterprise and USS Hathaway face off in simulated combat maneuvers. Data fails to beat a humanoid at a game of Strategema and exhibits self-doubt.

TNG was still trying to make the Ferengi happen here in s2. Someone was invested in the concept and wasn't letting go. If only for Armin Shimerman's sake, I'm happy they were so tenacious.

Kinda boring, but some nice scenes here and ther. I like a good 'let's this piece of junk ship-shape and show that poppinjay brass what we're made of' story, even if I've seen it a thousand times. All get-the-ship-ready scenes should be done via montage, a la One Crazy Summer. (Sorry no link - apparently it's been taken down.)

Writing Advice No One Ever Heeds But I Give Just the Same: "Attack pattern Delta" and "Kumeh maneuver" dialogue never works. I've complained elsewhere of how the only-one-man-could-pilot-this-starship-through-this-minefield schtick never works either, it's just not exciting in this format. Same deal here. Watching people run programs on their starship computers will never be dramatically exciting, at least when shouted out as dialogue.

16.

The Enterprise is caught up in the schemes of a flamboyant space rogue on the run, while Data explores humor with the help of Joe freaking Piscopo.

If you ever needed proof that TNG started life as an 80s show, the appearance of Joe Piscopo here provides it. And that's not a dis to Piscopo, just a slice of "Oh wow, yeah, this would have made sense in the 80s."

That title is terrible. It wouldn't have worked had they changed "outrageous" to ALL CAPS and added an exclamation point after Okona! But it would make it match the way my brain reads it.

The actor (William Campbell) was the original choice for Riker. What is it with Okona-type characters in Trek? There are a conspicuous amount of them. He reminds me of Jack Dalton from that one Cheers episode. He seems a little too retrograde for the 24th century. But so does Harry Mudd.

I like how Picard says "limited access to the ship" and then Okona goes to Engineering and then starts banging crew members. THAT'S limited access? Of course, there's Trek precedent for this. (See Lazarus's traipsing around the ship and stealing dilithium in "The Alternative Factor.") I prefer to think of the lack of security cameras everywhere or Soviet-style "escorting" as just part of the enlightened future world of Trek: too civilized to surveil everyone all the time, even on the flagship of the Federation, where you'd figure sensible security protocols would be followed.

Data's attempts to be funny are never funny. It's amazing the amount of screentime these sort of antics consumed. No one was around to tell them this was all a bad idea? Who did they think they were entertaining with all this? I take it back, Data's attempts to be funny DID result in filling out the "White and Nerdy" mash-up video, which keeps getting taken down so I won't link to it. You know the one I mean.

15.

A group of seemingly dimwitted aliens, the Pakleds, kidnap Lt. La Forge to "make their ship go". Picard accompanies Wesley to a starbase, Wesley to take his Starfleet exam, Picard to get his artificial heart tweaked.

Kind of silly, but I enjoy the alien performances.

The Wesley and Picard stuff is good for the episode it sets up. Have they made mention of Picard's artificial heart in Picard? In light of how he's now all artificial?

I don't really want to bring Picard up very much. not only because I don't like it, but because none of these episodes were made with nowadays in mind. It'd be one thing if Picard was done by anyone connected with the old show, outside of the cast (who all seem to be comfortably disconnected from their former selves).

Anyway, this wasn't bad. I should have more to say about it. It's harmless.

14.

The Enterprise hosts the young leader of Daled IV, Salia. Soon Wesley finds himself falling in love with her. However, Salia and her guardian are not what they appear: they are creatures of light who can assume many forms.

I sometimes take spectacularly unhelpful notes. The sum total for this one, for example is 'The Twin Peaks girl, what's her name. 'The WHOOSH-muppet.'"The first part is easy enough to figure out (Mädchen Amick has a guest appearance) but what did I mean for 'whoosh muppet'? I'm thinking maybe the sound fx/ hard cut from Amick to one of the creatures she transforms into? But serioulsy, that's it? 

Salia's Guardian is played by Patti Edwards, who was in everything, including a Cheers episode, so the Cheers/ Trek mojo proceeds apace.

This is a pretty cool idea, and had it had a better actor in the lead (sorry, Wil) it'd have come across much better. As I watch these episodes again in 2020, I am coming to the conclusion that Wesley Crusher is not a bad character, but Wil Wheaton did not bring him to life very effectively. Undoubtedly the failure was not his alone; it's shared by the writers, directors, whomever. Still, it's a shame.

13.

 After Data easily solves an ordinary Sherlock Holmes holodeck mystery, La Forge asks the computer to make a Holmes villain capable of defeating him. The resultant Professor Moriarty soon becomes far more powerful than expected.

This isn't the greatest episode - Data in particular is a little hard to take - but Daniel Davis kills it as Moriarty. I'm not the most completist of Holmesians, but I've seen my fair share and he's my favorite of the Moriartys I've seen. It's possible that I love the sequel to this so much that some of my affection  colors my take on this. If so, who cares - it's a fine little episode, although without the sequel it's not as cool.
 
One interesting aspect of not just this episode but the Enterprise computer/ holodeck in general: if it's capable of creating a sentient being (sentience here defined at least the way Bruce Maddox defined it in "Measure of a Man" although this causes several problems; we'll get to that one thiough) is it not sentient itself? Can a 3-d printer, even a great one, create a human baby? Or even a toaster capable of defeating Data? Geordi mentions at one point that the whole problem was due to his misspeaking and telling the computer to give them an adversary that could defeat Data, not Holmes. But is this not slightly terrifying? One misspoken word and the holodeck cerates a supermassive black hole that swallows the ship from the holodeck out/ some uncurable disease?

This question (is the Enterprise computer somewhat sentient itself?) is revisited most satisfactorily in one of the last episodes of the series. ("Emergence")

12.

Captain Picard encounters his future self when the Enterprise becomes caught in a time loop.
 

I've always enjoyed this one more than most people, I think. Zach Handlen is a notable exception; he rated this one as the first great episode of the series, if memory serves, in his AV Club rewatch. I disagree; I don't think it's great, necessarily, nor the series' first great one. It's pretty cool, though. The ending where Picard shoots himself to break the cycle is definitely a big moment, although I should probably put that a bit differently.

I think what works for this episode also works against it: the other Picard's inability to communciate with our Picard/ crew. Even as they get towards the end and the timelines synch up (which is kind of a cool idea) there's no real meaningful interaction between them, except for phaser fire. In a way like I say, this is cool and a novel approach to the dimensional-double concept, but dramatically, you feel a bit let down. Or I did.

11.

 
The Enterprise receives a distress call from the USS Lantree, discovering its crew has apparently died of old age. The race is on to solve the mystery before scientists on a research colony suffer the same fate.

Like I mentioned way up there, my buddy Bryant managed to change my thinking on Pulaski. Prior to him, I'd never met a TNG fan who spoke well of her character before; it was always something of a touchstone NOT to like her. This isn't very fair, though, and I hope more people go back and watch this season with fresh eyes. I feel bad for having been so wrong on this for so long. When I changed my mind on Neelix, I feel like I talked myself into it - I can still see/ respect anyone who can't approve of the character whatsoever. Pulaski, though, I feel like maybe we were all (or most of us) just wrong and need to apologize.

I love Captain Teleka's last log entry. ("In the last few hours I've watched friends grow old and die, and I'm seeing it happen to me." Short and sweet - Kirk would've liked that one.) The night I watched this, I watched Finding Dory with the kids, where "quarantine" is said like fifteen thousand times. Between that and the infectious disease here, life and art were synching up a little too well. I felt a little creeped out. ("The children will survive, but the rest of us are just about out of time.")

Effective ending, but a little something was missing to push this into "great episode" territory.

10.

 
After Data refuses an order from Starfleet to be dismantled for research purposes, a hearing is convened to determine if he is a legal citizen or property of the Federation.

Well this has a little cache now, in the wake of Picard. (Or does it?  Didn't the Maddox thing turn out to be a red herring on Picard?) One thing that struck me watching this time was that it's much more watchable than I remembered, even if ultimately the central drama kind of bounces off me. Why would Data be in any danger of being considered "property of the Federation?" it seems inconsistent.

The "it" pronoun with Data never works, for one thing, but most importantly, isn't he a Starfleet officer? Pointedly defined as such in "Encounter at Farpoint," not some honorary we'll-see-how-this-works-out thing? Is Starfleet in the habit of commissioning staplers and toasters?  The whole sentient thing is settled, which is why the drama never works whenever it's brought up. (I mean, sentient or not, does Starfleet physically own its officers? From organ harvesting to disassembling?) Data should never be fighting for his life/ agency like this except when cheap writing is employed.

Of course, you can tell from where I ranked it: I kind of like the episode so cheap or not,it moves well towards its conclusion, and Patrick Stewart does a fine job. 

9.

The crew play host to a deaf, telepathic ambassador who mediates difficult peace negotiations with the assistance of his "chorus," a trio of telepathic interpreters. When the chorus is killed, the crew must assist him in the mediation.

Although it kind of feels like a therapy-exercise gone awry, I like this one. Its heart is in the right place, and I appreciate its having been made, as well as Howie Seago's performance. Don't mean to damn it with faint or distracted praise or notable only for its empathy. It's an interesting story. A deaf character adds a new dimension to any story, and a deaf character in the future of Starfleet even more.
 
Picard's grabbing Riva's head and screaming "YOU ARE NOT ALONE!" in his face is great. Perhaps not for the reasons intended, but one for the highlight reels. Someone should mash it together with Spock's telling Zarabeth (if memory serves, it might've been another episode) "I AM SUBSTANTIAL; YOU ARE NOT IMAGINING THIS." These are things that would be on repeat over the loudspeaker, perhaps every 15 minutes like westminster chimes, at the Bryan's Bad Trip Clinic and Ego Re-Adjustment Center, last seen in this review of TOS "Metamorphosis."

8.

Captain Picard must find a way to rescue two radically incompatible cultures, one a primitive Irish farming colony threatened by solar flares, and the other a colony of clones facing inevitable genetic degeneration.

I feel I'm probably overrating this one. Mostly my warm reaction to it this rewatch is on account of a few scenes: the pre-credits scene between Riker and Picard, the scene between Picard and Data in the Captain's ready room, and the scene between Worf and Pulaski. Those were all great character-to-character and performance moments for all involved. (I'll bring up Picard one last time: there was more warmth and interest between these characters in any of these scenes than between Picard and anyone in the new show. Including his old friends. Damn it.)

Another old Earth thing, though? This is the 3rd or 4th of the series so far. Things fall apart a little at the end for me.

Picard is a bit gruff in the face of all these Irish stereotypes. He's probably embarrassed/ offended, until he "bows to the absurd." Fun fact: they were all going to leave them in the cargo bay without showing them how to use the replicators. It's mentioned but done almost as an afterthought, and mainly because Riker discovers that stereotype or not, what's her face is totally bangable. ("Is there a special technique to this face-washing?" Oh, Star Trek.)

7.

Riker's estranged father Kyle visits to brief him on the new ship he's been offered, and Worf's friends discover he is about to miss an important Klingon rite of passage.

Here is one I never liked until now. Did I just age into appreciation of it? (Or age into my senses dulled enough to no longer be critical?) The space-jailai stuff at the end is silly, although it seemed, visually, to be a slight tribute to the Prisoner and that crazy trampoline-jousting game they play (although this is not mentioned in any of my Trek accessory books on TNG, so maybe it's just in my head.) I like Kyle's connection with Pulaski, and Mitchell Ryan in general. Mainly on account of Grosse Pointe Blank. ("You know me, Martin, still the same old sell-out, exploiting the oppressed.")

Worf's side of it (despite overly channeling "Amok Time" albeit with a different outcome) is what anchors the episode I think. Good stuff. John Tesh's appearance as one of the Klingons meant ET did this little TNG special, which I remember tuning it specifically for the night it aired. It's too bad Tesh's Klingon character couldn't have used some kind of keytar for his painstick.

6.

An old acquaintance of Worf's is torpedoed to the Enterprise to intercept a Klingon ship that has been in suspended animation since the days of the Klingon/ Federation war. Fearing they will awaken and make immediate war on any starbase in the vicinity and having lost the Orgainians number a long time ago - Worf and K'Ehleyr pose as the captains of the ship to defuse the situation.

Very good performance from Suzie Plakson as K'Ehleyr, who will of course be back.

Poor Worf - can we not all relate to that moment where our ideas of love and relationships come crashing against the rocky shores of reality? "But we have mated - GAAAAA!" Poor K'Ehleyr, too. The whole thing works pretty well.

Another old-sleeper-awakens story, this one a little better because it's from the Klingon side. That's a nice touch. But they really are revisiting this well much more than I remembered these first two seasons. Four or five episodes out of forty-whatever might not be much, but sheesh.

5.

Troi's mother Lwaxana is in the market for a new husband, and she has set her sights on Captain Picard.

I never had time for this episode prior to now. But this time around I found a lot to enjoy. As with "The Icarus Factor," not sure if that means I've lost a step or gained one. I say anytime a rewatch leads to enjoying something you once didn't enjoy,  it's a win, if only for adding instead of subtracting to one's list of enjoyments.

The Dixon Hill escape is a lot more interesting to me now, too. It's also an interesting performer moment, as Stewart and Majel Barrett interact a lot in the holodeck (and much differently than they do outside of it, when she's playing Lwaxana) via Barrett's voicing the Enterprise computer.

The Antedians are cool. Worf's enthusiasm for them is great, and the twist at the end is unexpected. I forgot all about that part, actually. Up to that, Lwaxana is her usual grating self. (Would she really mac on her daughter's Imzadi? Seems kind of cruel for her. Her manipulations are usually over the top, but not that level of icky.)

"I'm as jumpy as Haircut Lepinski trying to land a fraction" someone says at one point. Had to look that one up, as the sentence made zero sense to me. I believe it's a reference to Jerry "Haircut" Lepinski, a racecar driver from the 60s and 70s, and I assume the fraction refers to race-time?

4.

Q flings the Enterprise 7000 light years beyond Federation space and introduces them to the deadly Borg.

Stop me if you've heard this before, but here's another one I was very much surprised by, even if I've always liked it. I remember the night I saw it, actually; I'd missed the Saturday airing on one UHF station and caught the Sunday night one on another. I can see it very vividly, actually: past-Bryan is eating a pepperoni hot pocket and drinking some iced tea and watching this in the dark save the illumination coming from the screen, clear as the proverbial unmuddied lake in my mind's eye.

That the episode succeeds in spite of Q (who just annoys me) speaks well of it. As an intro to the Borg, it's ominous and sets the table nicely. Watching both the Borg's and the crew's reaction TO the Borg is a lot of fun in the early-Borg episodes.

This whole thing with Guinan and Q, though, is dumb. "We've had dealings." It was enough to make Guinan aware of the Borg; making her some kind of mongoose to Q's cobra is several bridges too far. 

FFS.

I should be careful, though, with putting that idea into the universe; it could boomerang into being an actual Picard plot. (Okay, enough with Picard, I swear.) 

3.

Riker, Worf, and Data investigate a structure on the surface of an icy gas giant, which appears to be a hotel from 20th-century Earth. When they try to leave, they are prevented from doing so, and must learn the hotel's secret.

Another one I have fond and vivid memories of watching for the first time. (No hot pocket that time, though; I watched this one in my parents bedroom since they were watching the living room TV, and no food allowed in there.) It's another one I seem to enjoy a lot more than other people. Mainly because I'm a sucker for that cast-interacts-with-bad-cliched-program angle. Knowingly-hackneyed-plot-twists and central-casting-characters, etc. with a crew trying to stay one step ahead of them before turning the tables. The away team's fish-out-of-water-ness is fun.

One thing, though. It doesn't bother me that Data doesn't know the contents of the book; even with his positronic brain he can't have everything up there, and we see he sometimes runs across an idiom that escapes him. No problem. But why does Picard et al. need to point out the ending to him, once he speed-reads it? It's not an especially intuitive leap to realize oh, we must be the foreign investors. Beyond this, though, why has he never heard of this astronaut or mission, though? The Enterprise computer was able to punch it up pretty quickly. That seems a historical detail that would have been captured in his positronic net, no?

That scene in the hotel room has a touch of the horrors to it. A lonely death but a certain sense of dignity, at least in the hanging NASA suit in the closet. Speaking of: the timeline set forth here doesn't quite match the United Earth timeline mentioned in "Encounter at Farpoint" and elsewhere, but these are not dealbreaker issues. Nothing about the Trek timeline makes much sense, ultimately. 

2.

Commander Riker is assigned to a Klingon vessel via an officer exchange program. However, the Klingon Captain is full of mistrust and wants Riker to fire on the Enterprise.

I always liked this one and still do.

Christopher Collins (the Cobra Commander himself! Also, the Captain from "Samaritan Snare" up there) had a memorable voice, didn't he? Good to see him get a meaty role with the Klingon captain. He died pretty young (44 years old) which I remember seeing in the nascent Trek-internet of the mid-nineties.

Riker's "But he's your FATHER" disbelief is kind of interesting in light of what we learn about Riker's relationship with his own father in "The Icarus Facotr." But we often project; it's not uncommon. It'd be nice if such things were written into the script so we didn't have to go to the Basic Psycology well to explain the discrepancy, but they probably hadn't written "The Icarus Factor" yet at the time of this episode's production.

And finally:

1.

A dangerous alien computer virus runs rampant through the Enterprise after causing the destruction of her sister ship, the USS Yamato.

Not the Yamato!

I imagine this one is popular lately... How many folks googling the Soderbergh movie are getting this returned instead? I hope at least a few.

This is a fun mystery. I remember watching this the night it aired. The girl who got me seriously into Star Trek in the 6th grade (I saw plenty of it before that, growing up in a Trek-friendly household, but I trace my serious Trek fandom to my many conversations with her, and her introducing me to the Pocket Books and the comics) had come out to visit me. After that visit, for some reason, we never made any other contact. I'm pretty sure this was entirely my fault; I just never replied to her letters or some other adolescent misfire. Why the hell not? I've thought about this a lot over the years; she (her name was Liz Barela) was a good friend to me in this time of my life (1986 to 1988) and someone I trusted and admired a lot. What the heck happened? 

I tried tracking her down in the facebook age but no luck. Well, if I can't find her on social media and directly apologize, decades later than such an apology should have been issued, at least I can do so here. Sorry, Liz Barela! You were way nicer to me than I deserved at this point in my life, but both your kindness and intelligent advice has lingered long after. I'd like to think I grew into whatever it was you saw in me then. None of this was romantic, by the way, in case anyone's getting uncomfortable. The Barelas lived down the block from us in Germany, and then Liz and I were pen pals once we rotated back to the states, leading up to her visiting my parents house the week this aired.

Back to the episode. The whole Icoconia mystery is handled better than the Aldea mystery was in season 1. And if like most of the above most of these plot elements have been seen in many other Treks, (and still more to come) it's at least handled better here than, say, it was in TOS "That Which Survives" or something.

More Trek/ Life Advice: the cloaking device should just never have been mentioned again after "The Enterprise Incident." To paraphrase Austen Powers, though, that train has long since warped out to the stars.

~

Now for some leftover screencaps to play us out:

"They see me rollin'..."

Forget to mention Lycia Naff as Ensign Gomez. Seemed like they were trying to make her a foil/ recurring character in a couple of episodes in s2, but she never comes back to my knowledge. Too bad.

Max Fischer's Dad.

This lady in red is pretty memorable. She's on screen for a grand total of like two seconds. But somehow...

Stay classy, Starfleet.