Up Till Now: (a review)

The Autobiography by William Shatner with David Fisher

By S. Daily Warren

“I’m not a drama critic.”
- Capt. Kirk to Bones in Star Trek II: the Wrath of Khan

Let’s just get it out of the way: he’s not Shakespeare. He’s not even Shakespeare’s illiterate brother Rutiger. Yet in spite of some slight repetition and a few proofreading errors that shouldn’t have made it past the editor, I found the entire work to be a most delightful stream of consciousness and I quickly elevated “Up Till Now” to the post of my favorite autobiography. “Up Till Now” is not a work targeted at Trekkies (I count myself as one) and Star Trek doesn’t occupy a great amount of page space, nor should it. The book is precisely what its cover proclaims it to be, and I couldn’t put it down.

If Shatner’s self-description lacks a certain stylized elegance then it more than makes up for it in honesty, and that honesty lends itself to the construction of the man himself. The legendary charm of William Shatner is not in his smirk or his enunciation or bravado, it’s his honesty. He is truthful about his own life, about life in general, his perceptions of the lives of others and most of all he’s truthful about who he is as a person, good and bad. If you’re a Trekkie and want to hear about the supposed Shatner/Takei feud then you won’t see an entire chapter about that, and yet every chapter answers those questions between the lines. He simply is who he is and does what he does, and even if he didn’t exactly say no offense intended I would believe him if he did. Shatner exudes a deeply sympathetic nature that manages to coincide with equally deep masculine traits. He is, in no fewer words, a man’s man (all five foot nine of him).

The book is a jewel case of humorous and touching moments ranging from his childhood to his friendship with Leonard Nimoy to his own family, the bitter and the sweet. Seldom do you read a self-work with absolutely no agenda whatsoever (except for the honest one about selling the book itself), or a man of fame being so brutally honest about himself without the slightest fear of superficiality. Vanity? He confesses it on practically the first page. Ego? Do you know any person that can bow on a stage to thunderous applause that doesn’t have one? Phoniness? Oh, there’s some of that too, as anyone who knows of Shatner’s famous UFO report can attest. Scandal? He might not call scandal the stuff of life but it certainly had a place in his. Then why bother to write a book about such a man? What makes him so interesting besides the obvious fame of a short-lived series from the 60’s? Kirk, Hooker, Crane: what’s the big deal?

I’ll answer that from a very personal perspective, and although a primer in Jewish culture (explaining both the no-frills honesty and a deep love for food) would be handy it’s not necessary. William Shatner is every bit interesting enough as a human being … literally a human being … to make an autobiography not just a good read but something akin to a life skills reference work. He has been, in short, the hardest working man in show business that I know of.

Work. That is William Shatner’s mantra, and reading his autobiography you begin to share his experience of self-realization and it’s wonderful. From the time he slept in the camper of his pickup truck without a home to the day he purchased a horse ranch in Kentucky, Shatner’s life has been defined by work. His resume in theater alone reaches back so far that it becomes unwieldy, and his fame from Star Trek speaks for itself in a marketing cacophony. “Work makes work”, Shatner quotes his own father, and they both were right. It’s ironic that his first album was called “The Transformed Man” because this latest work captures what may be the greatest transformation in his long, laudable life. Reading along with him as he slowly applies his ethic of work to his relationships, and then his joy at the experienced rewards, makes the book priceless.

So many years of make-up, of memorizing lines, of being on time in faraway and sometimes dangerous places, and never saying no to a job sums up Shatner’s literal life work. He used to believe that his job as an actor summed up his own being, and “Up Till Now” invites you into his life as the man himself is transformed. Failed marriages and distant children and betrayed associates have healed and grown into wholesome and enviable relationships. On his website www.shatnervision.com you can watch video interviews conducted by a grown daughter that walks along with parts of the book word for word, but the love seen and heard in the interview makes it intimately touching. This is truly the reward of the transformed man.

And amidst all the stunt accidents and on-the-set gossip and exciting aspects of his personal life like race cars and Angie Dickinson, it’s unclear if Shatner sees this transformation in himself, or if he understands it. As he always has he’s simply living it, and living it well. His transformation has made the smirking, womanizing egoist so many writers have badgered on about into a charming, self-effacing husband and father and grandfather. Bitter co-workers and other detractors would do well to read the book to see for themselves how not-personal any perceived affront must have been. If he hogged the camera or stole lines or fought for a part it was for the sake of work; he could do something and he could do it well, so why shouldn’t he do it as much as he could? When a former co-worker walks up after decades have passed and confesses that they despised him, his reaction is always surprise (at least until they explain their grievances). While Shatner has what I call genuine class even this doesn’t explain his courtesy around mockers and hateful people. Rather, it’s an indication of a very simple man, a good man, a man who means no harm but who just never picked up the knack of compromising who he is and what he does.

Is this an ass-kissing session on my part as a writer? Perhaps. I absolutely loved the character of Captain Kirk and his mannerisms. But that was a fictional creation in a low-budget space drama that only ran 3 seasons. Falling in love with William Shatner – his lack of any guile, his boundless enthusiasm for life, his unflappable honesty in all things – is what makes “Up Till Now” a great book and a terrific reading experience. And this simple life wisdom, delivered directly and without shaving the truth for either his own benefit or anyone else’s, makes it a priceless education, not just in the industry of acting but in the drama of life itself. And if you don’t believe me, ask him about his program involving horses…or read the book.

Swinger's Flu Update

David Kessler, former commissioner of the FDA, states categorically that you cannot get it from food but that it is spread via respiratory droplets (the transcript of the CNN interview can be found here: (http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0904/28/ltm.01.html)



Wikipedia states in their banner article on Svine Flu that "The meat of the animal poses no threat of transmitting the virus when properly cooked." (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swine_flu).



Uncooked pork is about as fun as a stiff sheet in any event, as anyone who's had trichinosis (a parasitic disease) will tell you. Salmonella's a real gas too! In fact, pigs in general just get into weird areas like cosmetics and pharmaceutical testing.



The CDC and FDA and the loudest of the established brains all agree that you can't get swing flew from eating pork, but are very careful not to include the term "handling" in their analysis. So the following "no-fly list" might come in handy:

PLEASE AVOID THE FOLLOWING PRODUCTS AND DERIVATIVES:
- pig blood
- pig sweat
- pig tears
- pig ear wax
- pig snot
- pig lipstick
- pig lipgloss
- pig lint
- pig-in-a-blanket
- flying pig
- Piggly-Wiggly
- Pigpen
- pigtails
- pigskins
- pigment
- pigeons

Contact with any of these substances could result in Contessa Brewer crying on stage, shutting off your microphone and storming away in a huff. Stay tuned for my next installment where I'll prove conclusively that you can contract Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease from your cat's eye-boogers.

Shake No Farmer's Hand!

“You think you’re tough, for eating beans every day? There’s half a million scarecrows in Denver who’d give anything for a mouthful of what you have. They live off rats and sawdust bread and sometimes…on each other.”-
Powers Boothe as “Andy” in Red Dawn

Swine flu, or in the parlance of a Inspector Clouseau, “svine flu”, is so far not impressing me as a pandemic. A pandemic is when things get so bad that you eat your neighbor and the cops let you off with a warning, even though your neighbor was a cop. So let’s have a look at svine flu and give it a fair shake. Here are some things you didn’t know, things that might go over big in various media niches but which do not present themselves well to a mass audience.

First, illegal immigrants did it. And Canada (I knew it!). The first case of the modern pandemic we’re experiencing now according to the World Health Organization was reported in Alberta, Canada and associated with a farm worker recently returned from Mexico. Basically it was the butler in the study with the pipe wrench. This is great. Zeus could have downed Air France 447 with a thunderbolt for all we know, and yet someone in government is competent enough to discover that the death flu was started by Alonzo in Alberta.

Secondly, having just today declared that our current dose of svine flu is indeed an epidemic, Dr. Margaret Chan Fung Fu-Chun of the WHO comes again into the spotlight. Ah-ha! What may surprise you…along with the fact that the space shuttle causes earthquakes…is that she recently served as the representative to the Director-General of Pandemic Influenza, so it does indeed look like it’s all been planned. But how bad is it?

Basically we’ve had about 26,000 cases but only 4 deaths…all from suicide from watching CNN’s Svine Flu Christmas Special. The flu is easily transmittable from pig to pig but is unlikely to jump from pig to human except with prolonged exposure as with a svine farm worker or an animal rights activist living in Washington State. It has been known to jump more easily from human to pig, and once between a hedgehog and an iris, but these are rare cases indeed.

What we’re not being told is the truth. The biggest victims in this are farmers themselves of any ilk (not just the pig-guys), since no one wants to shake their ruddy hands anymore. But this is just wrong because it’s not their fault, it’s yours. The number one cause of svine flu transmission is not Mexicans or Dr. Chan or even Nancy Pelosi (I think). What about chowing down on undercooked pork? The experts say "no" (but are careful not to include the term "handling"). I for one always pass the plate when it comes stacked high with rubbery undercooked bacon, except in those rare moments that require a bacon double cheeseburger from Wendy’s. And there you have it.

People can generally be relied upon to actually cook a pig down to a consumable state but what about restaurants and fast food chains and breakfast cafés? Ah yes, the tasteless jokes I could crack are legion but the truth is actually a bit frightening. We know what it is and we know it’s spreading, but WHO’s systems might benefit from a focus on social tracking and progression as much as their laboratory analysis. We must know WHO is eating wHaT and whY…while there’s still time.

Do you want to protect yourself from svine flue? Go Kosher! Because after all, people have always been the biggest pigs.

The Bad Death of Dr. Tiller

by S. Daily Warren

Just because I’m in a flyover state doesn’t mean I know everybody here, so I don’t know Dr. Tiller from anyone. Nor would I presume to know the moral, spiritual or technical implications of mid-term, late-term, finals week or summer school abortions. Not my snow forte.

We should start simply: killing is wrong…unless you really, really want to. For instance, I have this neighbor – shelve that for the moment. If you’re a catch-and-release household bug trapper then you understand at least somewhat the miracle of life. If you squash them and move on you have a tidy home and the benefit of being passed over every malaria season. Both have merit, and my only contribution is to be as wise as serpents and as harmless as doves; ready to kill yet reticent to kill.

Some salient facts. Dr. Dead had been wearing a flak jacket since 1998, on advice from the federal government, which tells me there’s a man committed to his work. What that work is I don’t know since when he was shot he was performing his duties as an usher in a Lutheran church, but it’s doubtful this issue renders down to simply bad ushing.

Also, the suspect was almost immediately arrested…and what’s worse is he’s from Merriam, Kansas. “You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.” Obi Wan said about Merriam. I’m a strict constitutionalist at heart, to a fault, and hold our founding principles at a lofty height just below Mad Magazine and the Bible, so Scott Roeder (no, not from Metallica) must be innocent until proven guilty. But actually, he did it and everyone knows it, case closed.

And, Dr. Tiller’s clinic was one of three in the U.S. that non-subversively focused on late-term abortions. This procedure is described as taking place in the third trimester and is only allowed by law under certain circumstances such as rape, incest or if DNA testing indicates the baby is going to be Eric Cartman. It’s icky like all other procedures in the medical world, and yes sometimes they drill holes in babies heads. Quite frankly, I don’t see the difference between this procedure and putting your 10 year old on Ritalin and sending him to public school (except for the timing), but I’ll debate that with my manicurist. I must also report that the late Dr. Tiller was shot in the head. I make no assertions of poetic justice or divine intervention, I only say that it was good murder scene choreography.

Which brings me to my final point in fact…and if I had a modicum of honesty I’d end here and stop pretending I have one…this must be between the doctor and the woman. Why?

1.) She’s the caretaker. Guys, take a walk. You should have a say but you don’t and you won’t. If you’re really pissed off then declare a spermbargo but there’s little else you can do.

2.) It takes two to conspire, be it murder, manslaughter or Mariah Carey. Yes, any and all feti deserve a fair shot and an even break….like the rest of us got? (snicker) So there’s undoubtedly life there, but it is MOM’S life to deal with, period. How do I know? It’s still plugged in. So, technically you could even say it’s an extension of mom about to have an out-of-the-mommy experience. But that’s just silly.

3.) Under no circumstances do we want the justices of the United States Supreme Court groping around in this issue. Why not? They’re hands are too old and in most cases, on a personal level, the justices will be thinking of great grandchildren they’ll never have to support and not real people in-becoming.

As for Roeder, well he shot a guy. If his name was Tyrone Jefferson and he’d murdered Qung Ho at the Kwikie Mart this case would be over in record time. And it should be. Process this guy and get him out of here, and warm up Old Sparky. Cold-blooded murder for a cause is right alongside exploiting cold-blooded murder for a cause so I want closure, credits and that creepy music they play on C.S.I. Societal disruption on any level over this issue is unacceptable, especially for a bunch of Lutherans. Both Roeder and Tiller hung out their respective shingles, walked their talk and reaped what they sowed. And as for Tiller I say he had a yard of guts but it was his brains that got him in trouble.

Lookit, my wife hides her tampons and dental floss (but not in the same place, thank G-d). Females can be a very private people and if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in the bathroom with the water running and someone knocking and saying “Timmy, what are you doing in there?” then you better respect that privacy. Another human’s anatomy gets personal and no matter what you might think you think, you don’t want to go there.

This greatly simplifies the issue. In real life guys have no vote on this, so politically it should be the same and I for one don’t mind being let off the hook. So half of these screaming idiots on both sides are gone immediately, and apparently the armed/dangerous/armored half. Then get the courts and politicians out of there, which is just….eww. Next, firehose all the protesters. This serves no practical purpose and will almost certainly exacerbate the situation, but it would be a shame to pass up the opportunity when they’re all gathered in one place.

What’s left? A doctor and a patient. The patient may or may not be pregnant with what may or may not be your child (you may pay for all expenses, however because if you didn’t actually get her knocked up then you were at least thinking about it). There may be extenuating circumstances, there may not. Preachy doctors can be fired and fussy patients can be referred, and women tend to get what they need and are experts at knowing what they need. I know, I made the mistake of asking once. Once.

If Rush Limbaugh doesn’t want people to know where he got his Oxycontin then he should take his microphone out from where it doesn’t belong. And if Tiller didn’t want his brains all over the pews then he should have kept a lower profile, right or wrong. And let’s all just leave the ladies alone on this one. A man’s been killed and it wasn’t necessary. Another faces the death sentence. Sun Tse taught me never to enter a battle you’ve already lost, and as a man I decide…in the immortal words of Chesty Puller…to attack in a different direction instead of retreat.

If I’m going to protect someone, to throw my ring in the hat for the best contestant, to pour heart and soul into an issue and believe in it with the power to die for it (without actually having to, hopefully), then the choice is simple.

It’s not a woman’s right to choose. It’s her right to follow her heart after she knows. And that mystical perception, that ever-trustworthy instinct for life, is exactly what we enslaved them for in the first place, guys. Let’s not muck it up now by interfering and feasting once again on the media fast food already being ordered over the dead bodies of our brothers who each thought they were protecting their sisters.

A Prayer for the Prez-elect

My wife and I said a heartfelt prayer for the incoming president-elect, a prayer for wisdom and blessing on him and our nation. After Congress counted the electoral votes it is now constitutionally official, and for all my faults I can at least say I was a good citizen enough to write and say "congratulations".

(but now I'm on the change.gov email list and getting mass mailings from Podesta. Hilarious!)

What a strange, strange time....

I Never Got Into This...

...but there's a real reason the Electoral College is independent, why they can vote their conscience, why they can tell democracy to take a flying leap and the popular voter to kiss their collective electoral asses.

(the reason for this surprise is that people don't plan enough chess these days. there's lots of ideas but actual plans can only take certain directions and approaches in reality. in short, our founding fathers foresaw some of our problems and did the best they could. a chess player understands what it means to think ahead...)

What if a presidential candidate was found to be ineligible on a technicality (important or not) AFTER the popular vote, which takes some time to collect in 1783 OR in 2008? Hopefully, you'd have an independent electoral college that always did what they were expected to do but had the freedom to do what needed to be done.

Hamashed Potatoes

No one ever "asked for it" they way they asked for it in Gaza. 60 rockets on Christmas Day, what are you shittin' me? If metro Miami seceded from Florida, set up its own government and (while demanding food and fuel etc.) started raining down rockets on neighboring suburbs, what the hell would you do?

For the complete story, go to Faux News where you can see a photo montage of every, single Palestinian child supposedly wounded in this attack...