SNYDERMANIA: Star Trek

Showing posts with label Star Trek. Show all posts

Monday, May 11, 2009

Lala, Vasquez, The Swine Flu, Star Trek and a Sunday Morning in Prescott

SWINE FLU! SWINE FLU! SWINE FLU! SWINE FLU! SWINE FLU! SWINE FLU!

I have nothing to say about the Swine Flu or Lala Vasquez. Including Swine Flu and Lala Vasquez in the titles does appear to attract hits to my blog.

STAR TREK! STAR TREK! STAR TREK! STAR TREK! STAR TREK! STAR TREK!

Star Trek also appears to rack up the hits.
Bluesfrau in Germany asked for a definition of Tribble. Tribbles are the cute furry creatures you see above. They appeared in a Star Trek episode entitled The Trouble with Tribbles.

Word on the street is the new Star Trek movie is quite good.

Below is a shot of the new Lieutenant Uhura. She's a cute enough kid, but she can't begin to compare with the hottest woman in the history of network television.

SUNDAY MORNING IN PRESCOTT

A couple of Sundays back I headed up to Prescott with my eight year-old, Barit and seventeen year-old, Macaulay. An entire cup of coffee ended up in my lap before we hit the one mile marker. We had to head back to la casa Snyder so I could change my pants and despite the adversity, climb back into the car and head north. About thirty miles into the hundred and twenty mile drive, I frantically pulled off the freeway to find a restroom. Such is life when you have a bladder the size of a grape. We stopped for donuts in Anthem and Macaulay insisted that I definitely not buy any more coffee. It was nice to escape the concrete jungle and experience a crisp Sunday morning driving across the wide open Sonoran desert and up into the Arizona high country.

Macaulay is a excellent photographer and she wanted to take some black and white of some old buildings. I was hoping to connect with the former territorial capital since it’s the setting for my latest story. We casually strolled around the courthouse and toward Thumb Butte on Gurley Street as Macaulay snapped away, stopping for hot chocolate in a sub street level bakery. It was a good morning, a nice little adventure with a couple of my girls.

BUCKY O'NEILL

Here’s a shot of the Bucky O’Neill Rough Rider memorial statue in the Prescott Town Square. Captain O’Neil and the Arizona Rough Riders assembled in the square before shipping out to Cuba in 1898. Former Prescott sheriff and judge, Bucky O’Neil and the Arizona Rough Riders assembled in the town square in 1898 before shipping out to Cuba. Captain O’Neil was killed at the Battle of San Juan Hill, shortly after saying, “There isn’t a Spanish bullet made that can kill me.”

Bucky O'Neill is the namesake of Bucky's Hotel and Casino.

Theodore Roosevelt and the victorious Rough Riders at the top of San Juan Hill, sans Bucky O'Neill.

WILLIAM "BUCKY" O'NEILL

Sam Elliot portrayed O'Neill in a 1997 TNT movie entitled The Rough Riders.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

Swine Flu! Star Trek!

SWINE FLU!

Are you a blogger? Would you like to attract readers to your blog? I’ve got two magic words for you: Swine Flu. My last two postings included Swine Flu in the title and my hit count seems to have quadrupled. I really don’t have anything else to say about the Swine Flu. Come to think of it, there are probably about a billion Trekkies trolling the internet since the release of the new Star Trek movie. Why not add Star Trek to my title?

If you stopped by to read about the Swine Flu or Star Trek and you’re still reading, welcome and I hope you aren’t so miffed that you won’t take a look around...

I did watch the original series as a kid. Never got into the later series'.

STAR TREK

The Trouble with Tribbles was probably the funniest episode in the original series.

Spectre of the Gun is my favorite episode. Kirk and the boys were imprisoned in a psychic illusion shaped from the recesses of Captain’s mind. The illusion took the form of Tombstone, Arizona, circa 1881.

My second grade classmate, Danny DiAngelo brought his lunch to Saint Joseph's Parish School in a lunch box excactly like the one above.

Lieutenant Uhura. Hot. Smoking hot.

NORTHERN EXPOSURE

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

FIELD OF DREAMS

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?