Once
we dispense with the problem of Scott Bakula’s woodenness, we can examine Enterprise
for its positive attributes, and these attributes reside in a neo realism that
was rough around the edges, better synchronized than the original Star Trek,
except for Roddenberry’s pilot, which was darker than Shatner’s hippocampus,
and thus, the opening artic sequence of “Regeneration” harbored an insidious malevolence
attached to it because it was conceivable that such an event could occur, even
if it’s highly unlikely that the Borg exist in deep space. They will exist, one
day, because our technological prowess on the verge of the future seems to
insist that this collective bipedal beehive will occur, because we've transgressed from murdering black abolitionists like David Ruggles, or attempting to murder them, to arguing about the lack of American principles LLhan exudes and whether she's objectionable enough to have her citizenship reexamined, but what do they stand
for? Not Marxism, but Google’s efficacy modules? Possibly, and this 21st
century starship team couldn’t, didn’t grasp the odds they were facing. They simply
took action, and boom, a great villainy returns to its proper spin off,
threatening the dignity of an actor with the best training the Royal Shakespeare Theatre Company had to offer. His moment of masterful dialogue in the holodeck, with an Arabian steed, was actually closer to: Some creatures have the capacity to occupy a space you never realized existed and needed to be filled.
This art of excellence, alliterated by a Briton who himself was diluted by popular projection of a commercial formula, is the light of humanity we're losing. Once it's gone, then it's gone.
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