Oh Myyy! (6 page)

Indeed, a fracture between the two fan bases of the two titans of science fiction threatened to pull our collective attentions away at a time when focus, unity and singularity of purpose was much needed.

I was speaking, of course, about the common threat that was
Twilight
.

In my video calling for the Star Alliance against
Twilight
, I went into some of the basic reasons why that movie series (I confess, I have not read the books — and if they are anything like the film, I don’t care to) could poison an entire generation’s mindset toward science fiction. For me, both
Star Trek
and
Star Wars
represent the expansion of human imagination, creativity, and curiosity. In the best of science fiction, epic battles rage between forces of good and evil, and the fate of the universe often hangs in the balance. Noble and stirring characters inhabit the big screen, challenging us to be heroes, to rise to our fullest potential, and to vanquish our enemies utterly. Great lessons are taught to, and absorbed by, young minds and hearts.

In
Twilight
, not so. Unlike the great vampires of the Anne Rice series,
The Lost Boys
movie or, more recently,
True Blood
, there is nothing “bad ass” in the least about the
Twilight
bloodsuckers. In that simpering world, centuries-old vampires mope over 17-year olds, attend high school, and sparkle in the sunlight. The main, driving question throughout the first of the three films was not a struggle for domination, a gripping test of the limits of camaraderie, or even a quest for something long since thought unattainable. No,
Twilight
asked the same burning question so many
Tiger Beat
features demand of their readers: “Does my boyfriend like me?”

Okay, okay. We had a great deal of fun at the expense of poor
Twilight
, and fan memes dutifully flooded my page. My favorites depicted various vampire hunters — Buffy, Blade, Abraham Lincoln — in hot pursuit of sparkly, pale Edward. Other fans chimed in with humor about the banality of the books:

All manner of images surfaced suggesting that Darth Vader and Stormtroopers, even in their helmets, had greater diversity in their expressions than a hapless, poorly-directed Kristen Stewart.

I shared these with the fans in good humor, and unsurprisingly the supporters of
Twilight
cried foul. “Stop bashing
Twilight
, I love that film!” “Just because YOU don’t understand
Twilight
doesn’t mean others can’t love it.” “Edward is sooooo dreamy!!” To me, their defense of the franchise often lacked conviction. The “Twihards” knew, deep down, that what they were enjoying in these films was a guilty pleasure, and not great storytelling, profound character development or even groundbreaking special effects.

Moreover, what kind of message was
Twilight
sending to girls and young women everywhere? Compare the noteworthy heroines of other books and series: Hermione Granger, who through study and dedication helped her friends vanquish the greatest of Dark Wizards; Arya Stark, who vows to avenge her family and learns to fence with the greatest of Dancing Masters; Katniss Everdeen, who replaces her doomed sister in a battle to the death and, through her defiance, sparks a revolution against the Capitol. As an aside, one of my favorite fan-shared memes related to her:

© pink candy - Fotolia.com. Used with Permission

The Alliance was a turning point for my Facebook page. As broker of the Star Peace, I was granted not just grudging but enthusiastic permission to post all things science fiction. Die-hard sci-fi fans clamored for an expansion of the Star Alliance, to include such great series as
Battlestar Galactica
,
Babylon 5
,
Dr. Who
, and
Stargate
. For a brief time I even sold T-shirts for the Alliance (all proceeds benefiting the non-profit Old Globe Theater’s production of my show
Allegiance
). Fans came up with brilliant logos that used the space vessels of various shows to spell the word “COEXIST” just as religious symbols had been used in versions past to form that same hopeful word.

Science fiction is more than just our collective dreams for a human race that reaches to the stars. In many ways, the dreams of yesterday are becoming the realities of today and the path for tomorrow. It amazes me these days to see so many of the concepts first imagined on
Star Trek
gaining practical application. Our communicators look very much like the early cellular flip-phones. Scientists propose rocket engines powered by, believe it or not, dilithium crystals. Even the concept of warp drive has moved into mainstream theory. Perhaps Gene Roddenberry was a modern-day Leonardo da Vinci, so many of his imaginings coming to pass.

So is it time for yet another great Star series to come along and lift our eyes and spirits to the heavens? I would hope so, and I can’t wait.

Bacon

We’ve all seen it. People love to post pictures of their pricey restaurant meals or fancy entrées they’ve managed to prepare themselves for that special someone. As supportive Facebook friends, we dutifully click “like” to show our appreciation for the beauty of the presentation and the imagined delicacy of the flavors. We do this even though we know the post was simply offered to render us resentful, envious, and hungry.

But when it comes to food posts, there’s no beating America’s favorite bad boy edible: Bacon.

Fans “share” and “like” posts about bacon with the gusto of studio audiences applauding Emeril Lagasse’s extra bulb of garlic, tossed into the pot with a “Bam!” Behind it churns the same primal instinct that causes us to nod with approval at things like fried Twinkies (an endangered species after the recent bankruptcy of Hostess Foods), Krispy Kreme donuts, or a whole stick of butter in Paula Dean’s Southern Casseroles. Incidentally, there was a period when deep fried turkeys, an invention of the South, were all the rage for Thanksgiving. But because so many of those who attempted this were badly burned, it has largely petered out as a fad. If you really need to do this, make sure you set it up outside, in a very large pot, and with a portable burner. There was also a time where Turduckens — a combination of a turkey, stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken — were on everyone’s Thanksgiving try list. One of my favorite cartoons showed each of these three birds in the same bed, the turkey smoking a cigarette, a simple caption reading: “And they would never speak of the Turducken again.”

But back to bacon. As I understand it, “liking” a bacon post is culinary and nutritional defiance. It ignores decades of scientific study on arteriosclerosis and the carcinogenic nature of processed foods. We know bacon is chock-full of sodium, fat, nitrates and more fat. In glorifying bacon, we reclaim a simpler time when we could eat what we wanted to, as we did as children once upon a time, before restaurants began publishing caloric values of food, and packaging cautioned us about fat percentages in our food. When we eat bacon, we throw caution to the wind and truly
live
, if even just a little.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t also mention that “bacon” also has been the unintended beneficiary of the low-level pop static of a certain “Kevin,” the namesake of one of the best parlor games ever invented.

I’ve sometimes imagined that if sin had a flavor, it might very well be bacon. It even tastes smoky, as if it emerged piping hot out of the fiery pans of hell. More than any forbidden fruit, this delectable treat — best when crispy, the little grease bubbles still dancing happily on its crenelated edges — epitomizes things we know we shouldn’t eat, but still crave and keep going back to. In short, it’s food crack.

Photo Credit: store.thebaconshop.com - Used with Permission

Most fans (mostly men) who left comments on this highly popular post swore they’d take bacon roses over normal roses any day. I suppose this supports the old adage that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. It’s no coincidence then that Homer Simpson has become the unofficial champion of bacon.

Fans of bacon tend to see it in all manner of places, especially in street signs. Everywhere they turn, the world reminds them that they could be somewhere else. Somewhere with bacon.