What went wrong with Star Trek Discovery?
Here’s a rare non-TERRIBLE-advice post. Yes I sometimes write them, you friggin’ numpty:
Zbigniew asks
Oh boy, I’ve tried hard to like this series, but eventually gave up somewhere in the midst of the 2nd season. It was so boring that I simply had to stop watching it.
My answer
Gave up middle of the 2nd? Same! For me the reason was a teensy bit different: I’d found the show and most of its characters were and are proud of being bitter, and cold, and abrasive, and of brandishing their tantrums like some kind of perverse badge of honour.
I mean geez. What happened to optimism? What happened to the fab new post-scarcity future? It’s not that I don’t get you can venture way too far in that direction, absolutely you can: Roddenberry’s decree to the writers back in the first couple of seasons of TNG that the main characters may never have any interpersonal conflicts of any kind whatsoever due to the Federation being “more evolved” or what-have-you is just plain silly. Zero conflict means zero drama, zero tension, zero story, boring. Personally, I’d interpret Star Trek’s “more evolved” Federation as its members having greater skill and savvy at analysing and resolving the conflicts they do encounter, rather than just simply never encountering any in the first place.
But Discovery goes way, way too far the other way. Most characters spasm and squirm with psychological trauma, they thrash and recoil with their inner emotional agonies, they quiver, they wobble, they burst. No-one’s perfect, mind you. We all have our issues. But this? They’re just taking the piss.
What happened to competence? What happened to professionalism? There’s a reason TNG’s fandom birthed the term “competence porn”. Watching the D’s crew doing their thing was and is a thing of beauty. Why can’t we have that again?
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2022/1/what-went-wrong-with-star-trek-discovery
Hungry for more?
Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
On your cherished pet bunnies judging you a stinkin' softcock, and on thwarting their hideous psychological Thunderdomes: today's TERRIBLE advice
“The parenthetical where you draw a firm ethical line at torturing live bystander rabbits, while merrily crucifying the dead ones for maximum psychological effect, is the best bit of restraint I've read this week. Commitment to the bit, respected. Subscribed.”
On combining embryonic womb-ly Powers like a horrible maternal Captain Planet: Today's TERRIBLE advice
“Thanks for sharing! Your response surely weaponizes the "escalation of the absurd" trope to solve a mundane social dilemma. If anyone has the courage to use Mr. Escobar's line to their family, they probably will never be invited to a family gathering again...”
On conscripting lesbian bitches and gay male dogs through Pray-The-Gay-Away camps for rich entitled floozies: today's TERRIBLE advice
“This is hilarious! I used to think all cats were female when I was a little kid and all dogs were male. haha”
Bullshit Banquet: the SEXYVERSE NOVELS
*ahem*
IN A WORLD where wars are fought with romance and flirting and delicious erotic TENSION, the rivalries throbbing between history’s Great Powers have become a BUTTLOAD more bubbly, with fewer hideous massacres of musket and cannon, and OODLES more frisky cunnilingus contests:
The Sex Commandos Thwart The Third Vaginal Apocalypse
Part One: The Knights Of Raw Phwoar
Might Earth’s free nations drown under terrifying tornadoes of French femme-foam? Like hell, shout Britain’s Royal Marines Sex Commandos. Let’s assassinate France’s Imperatrix Brigitte Bardot! Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?
Part Two: The Soviet Sluts Superb
Turns out out-flirting Imperatrix Bardot is like trying to wank off Mt. Blanc when it’s wanking you back. Plan B: skedaddle, regroup, out-flirt the entirety of France and get loads more practice, then it’s stealthy-sneaky Round Two or bust.
Part Three: The Cervical Supremacy
Turns out flirting with every ladybro Rambo in France produces Rivals and Frenemies and Jilted Waifus galore. Smashing fun, but utter Kryptonite for Imperial kill-plans. Like, ever tried noshing off a world leader whilst a billion fanb0is fondle your buttocks? Want to? Read on!
Part Four: The Praetorian Prostitutes
The game’s up! The irresistible force of fanb0i-fondlemania has headbutted the immovable object of a gazillion furious Paris cops. They too thirst for Sex Commando patoot. Crunch time. Either launch one final rocket-strike against Bardot and France, or Earth’s free nations forever perish.
Part Five: [soon, baby]
Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED.