Captain’s Log: Stardate 10689.3
Last night, a small landing party comprised of myself, Crewman Kenny and Lt. Commander Mitch had planned to beam into Stout NYC for dinner and then walk over to Madison Square Garden to see the Rangers take on the Carolina Hurricanes.

But, thanks to a northbound driving idiot on the West Side Highway and the efforts of the New York Police Department, that plan had to change. See, right at rush hour, some guy driving northbound jumped the divider and hit a southbound car head-on, resulting in a real mess of twisted metal and a fatality or two.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the NYPD, but did they really have to close the highway to investigate? I was 100 blocks away and I knew the deaths were caused by a car accident. Was finding blame worth shutting down one of NYC’s most important arteries?

Forget Riverside Drive and Broadway. They were more jammed up than some of the new prisoners’ asses in the showers that Dave will be watching over (Congratulations to Captain Dave on your new job as a corrections officer.) At first I considered parking the car at 187th and Broadway to take the subway down, but quickly realized, as a white boy from the ‘burbs, that the odds of my being alive the next day would be slim to none. I might as well have been wearing a sign on my chest: “Unload Your Ammo Here.” So, using the navigation system in the Pathfinder, a found other routes and worked my down from one war zone to the next. Mitch and Kenny would have to enjoy Stout without me. I’d be happy just to make the game.

Pulling maneuvers that kept me hoping that the airbags were working, I raced downtown. Cutting off busses, honking at pedestrians and a high-speed close encounter with one of those little police golf cart thingy’s (I equated Pathfinder vs. Golf Cart with Enterprise vs. Sailing Dinghy – he’ll move – and he did,) I was determined to get to 36th and 7th.

We met up and found our seats three rows back from the ice just a few minutes into the first period. What an amazing fast-paced game! Mitch and I were prepared, too. Should a slap shot cause a puck to fly at 200mph toward Kenny’s head, Mitch was to say “Oh my God! They killed Kenny” followed by my “You bastards!”

Kenny survived and the three of us had a blast. Madison Square Garden was jumping as the Rangers trampled the Hurricanes 4-0 – far more satisfying Hurricane relief than the ultra-lame Comic Relief 2006 that aired the weekend before on HBO.

I’ll finish this log entry with the following: To the great crew of the Enterprise, our friends, our families and fans of the log – have a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. If I even tried to list all the things I’m thankful for, I’d use up all the memory on the log. For now, I’ll just say thanks to you all.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 10687.4
Last night, as part of my usual post-racing-season Tuesday Night ritual, I flipped over to ABC to catch the latest episode of Boston Legal featuring James T. Crane. I mean Denny Kirk. No, Denny Crane. That’s it. Any way you slice it, it’s William Shatner, and, he’s good in it. The dude got an Emmy.

But, instead, I found ABC’s new game show “Show Me The Money,” a flashy show that gives away tons of money for very little skill featuring thirteen dancing girls and new game show host (yes, you guessed it) William Shatner.

OK. I’ll give it a try. After all, it seemed to be a logical step in his career – starship captain, LA cop, Boston lawyer, and now a game show host.

The game is pretty simple. With a little trivia knowledge, you can earn big bucks. The questions were about as tough as “Deal or No Deal?” or “Would you like fries with that?” A few questions passed, the contestant (a man that would overheat any Gay-dar) was up over $500,000 and then they went to commercials. Coming out of the ads and back into the show, viewers were treated to flashy graphics, dancing girls and, oh my God, William Shatner dancing.

Mortified and on the verge of re-tasting the Wonton Soup and Beef & Broccoli I finished just a few hours earlier, I began to wonder what would be involved to rename the boat to “Millennium Falcon.”

I flipped away to some show about Hollywood gossip and they were discussing Britney Spear’s divorce and how devastated she is. Hey, I know divorce is tough, but we all know she’ll get through it and Britney will be back on her knees in no time.

And then, as if I had lost all control of my actions, I went back to the game show. I couldn’t look away. Maybe it was the simplicity of the questions. Maybe it was the 13 scantily-clad dancers. Maybe it was Captain Kirk making a fool out of himself, but clearing enjoying the moment.

In fact, I think he knew how he appeared and just decided to have a great time with it. The 60s, 70s and 80s were good to him, but he’s found a self-depreciating niche that makes it seem he’s at the top of his game and laughing all the way to the bank. The man has stopped taking himself seriously and going with it – boldly, too.

Still, I'll be happy when Boston Legal is back.