No, I’m not talking about good versus evil. I’m talking about Star Trek versus Star Wars.

Contrary to popular belief, it’s only a minority of fanboys on both sides that propagate this stupid feud. I’m a fan of both franchises, and though I certainly prefer Trek to Wars, I can easily enjoy both works’ places in the realm of fiction. I think the bashing back and forth is pointless, and to be completely honest, I think it’s like comparing apples to oranges.

Star Trek is science fiction, while Star Wars is science fantasy. Those are actually very different genres; while in Trek, science and technology are the primary driving points of the series, in Wars, futuristic tech just happens to be there, and often has little to no importance in the overall story.

Let me break it down a bit further. Star Trek has always been a study of the human condition, and how we’ll evolve ourselves and our technology over the next few hundred years. The series has always had strong parallels to social issues of the day. On the other hand, Star Wars is a sword-and-sorcery epic, just set in space. (You’ve got lightsabers instead of swords, and The Force instead of sorcery.) Therefore, the focus is on action, adventure, and mysticism. More importantly, it takes place a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away; while there’s clearly humans in the series, they’re not from Earth, nor do they have anything to do with our sociology.

As you can see, trying to extol one while shitting on the other doesn’t really work, as they’re more different than they are alike. In fact, that’s the precise reason why I think many people do enjoy both. Yet we’ve got still got douchebags on both sides of the aisle out to demonize each other.

Personally, I’ve noticed more of the hate comes from the Star Wars side of fandom. Star Wars fans tend to despise “Trekkies” far more than the reverse. Many times, their arguments boil down to a popularity contest, in which the Wars-heads (Warheads?) claim that Star Wars is much more popular, that the six films have made more money than all of the Star Trek films combined, and so on and so forth. On the other side of the coin, there’s over seven hundred television episodes of Star Trek, many of which have won Emmy Awards (and even the coveted Peabody Award). I think the demonization is because Star Wars has broader pop culture appeal; there’s plenty of people who hate science fiction that still love Star Wars, as the science is unimportant. (In fact, when George Lucas tried to add more scientific explanation to the Star Wars universe in the form of the midi-chlorians, fans actually got pissed off!) Star Trek is considered a “nerd” show, as it’s much more cerebral, relies heavily on advanced technology, and deals with issues more relevant to modern society. As a result, it’s a difficult show for non-scifi fans to get into.

Last but not least, there’s the age demographic. Star Wars is a franchise that crosses all age boundaries; there’s aspects of it designed for any age group. (Lucas himself has even stated that the six Star Wars films were designed for children.) Star Trek unfortunately cannot claim that. Sure, there was the animated series in the 1970s, but that was a flash in the pan; overall, it’s a series that skews older.

If all else fails, Trek fans have the Jar Jar argument, which sadly there is no defense against. It’s a black mark on anyone’s Star Wars fandom; let’s be honest with ourselves here. The arguments go back and forth, back and forth…with no end in sight, and the entire fight is stupid to begin with. I can enjoy both franchises, as well as criticize their many flaws. Why can’t you?

(For further reading on this subject, check out two of Wookieepedia‘s excellent articles: Star Trek vs. Star Wars, and Star Trek in general. Coming from a massive Star Wars site, it’s refreshingly balanced.)

Remember when video games based on licensed properties didn’t suck?

Way back in the 8- and 16-bit eras, developers created some true gems back featuring popular licensed characters, even if they were just corporate shills. One of my personal favorites was DuckTales, based on the cartoon of the same name. (Hey, you watched it, too. Don’t try to deny it, you lying sack of shit.)

DuckTales had two NES installments, as well as two Game Boy ports. Every single one of them was great. Developed by Capcom (a company responsible for a boatload of great games back in those days, like the Mega Man series), DuckTales put players in the shoes (well, spats) of Scrooge McDuck, as he traveled the world hunting for treasure. DuckTales set itself apart from other platformers of the day with its unique “pogo” mechanic; Scrooge extended his jumps and attacked foes by using his cane as a pogo stick. Of course, like other Capcom titles of the day, DuckTales had the requisite great graphics and sound. Capcom would continue to produce excellent titles based on licensed Disney properties, like Chip ‘n’ Dale’s Rescue Rangers and multiple adaptations of Disney films; you really couldn’t go wrong with those games.

Then, of course, we have the legendary first Batman game for the NES.

There’s been plenty of Batman games, sure, but this one’s notable because it was specifically designed to capitalize on the 1989 film, though it had very little in common with the movie. Plus, Batman on the NES was also quite difficult, something not often seen in licensed games.

Nowadays, games based on action movies, cartoons, and fads-of-the week are commonplace, and are of almost universally low quality. Developers just shit them out to make a quick buck during a big film’s release, for example, and then they’re relegated to bargain bin status in no time. If developers could crank out quality stuff on an 8-bit system, there’s no reason they can’t do it on the 3D systems of today. Laziness is yet another factor contributing to the downfall of gaming.

I had major abdominal surgery in the early spring of 2008; it strongly impacted my life for the remainder of the year, and even to this day. I figured I’d talk about it a bit, as there were plenty of aspects of the whole ordeal that irritated me.

As to exactly why I required the surgery, let me try to sum up. When I was four years old, I had some severe intestinal problems, and I had surgery then to fix them. Everything was peachy, but twenty-five years later, I was back under the knife. No, the original surgery wasn’t botched, but it was in fact the root of the more recent malady. See, the internal scar tissue from the original surgery had grown over the past few decades, and it was pinching my intestines shut. That’s bad. So, I underwent a laparoscopy to fix it; it wasn’t enough, so a week and a half later, full surgery was ordered up. The surgery went smoothly. I spent a week recovering in the hospital, and then an additional three weeks resting at home before returning to work. I’ve since made a full recovery, with no complications to date.

So what do I have to complain about? Well, as dumb as it may sound, it was the psychological aftereffects of the surgery that affected me the most. Sure, there were plenty of physical effects: the obvious pain, the very slow buildup to normal food consumption, and the loss of muscle tone (not that I had much to begin with!) due to dropping close to twenty pounds over the course of two weeks. Hell, I wasn’t permitted to lift anything weighing five pounds or more for over a month!

Anyway, the first real mental effect I noticed were the nightmares. There weren’t many of them, but they were indeed vivid. I’ve heard this is common after someone undergoes major surgery, and can sometimes be a side effect of the anesthesia. Discovering that this was common didn’t make it suck any less, though. The worst one was where I dreamed that I was ripping out my intravenous lines and nasogastric tube, and that’s putting it lightly. I woke up absolutely frozen with fear, and it took quite a few minutes for me to realize that I was safe in my hospital bed, still properly connected to all of the various equipment caring for me. Eesh.

Speaking of the nasogastric tube…holy shit, avoid those things if at all possible. They certainly help relieve pain and pressure in the ol’ gut, but it fucking hurts like a bitch when it’s shoved up your nose. Then you get to deal with the aching pain in the your nasal cavity and throat for however many days you’re stuck with the stupid thing. Seriously, the gunk draining out through the tube isn’t nearly as annoying as the discomfort.

Now that I’ve made you all sick to your stomachs (no pun intended), I’ll continue with the mental stuff. There was depression, which came and went. A few times, I even woke up in the middle of the night, just feeling awful. However, the strangest thing of all was the game that fate seemed to be playing with me. For many months following the surgery, my illness, treatment, recovery, or any combination thereof always came up in conversation. It wasn’t anything as simple as people directly asking about it, either. It somehow just seemed to constantly appear; for example, a television show would mention abdominal surgery. Or I’d hear a song in my iTunes playlist that gave me flashbacks to my time recovering. Or someone else I knew would have medical issues, and discussions of my surgery just naturally came up. It was annoying at first, but then I realized that it was practically defining my life, and I really had nothing else to talk about when people asked how I was doing, even many months after the fact. It was simultaneously depressing and aggravating.

Eventually, I had enough, and decided that I had to combat this in some way, shape, or form. The methods that I came up with were the following:

• Never bring up my surgery or hospitalization unless specifically asked about it.
• Avoid video games, music, books, et cetera that I enjoyed during my recovery.

Easier said than done, huh? But I’ve been able to pull it off, and it’s helped my mental state considerably. Sure as hell beats being depressed and angry about it all the time, doesn’t it?

The pros of my surgery greatly outweighed the cons, of course. I suppose that the mental side effects are a small price to pay for having my plumbing fixed and ensuring my continued survival. But I’ve got enough to be angry about without my health making it even worse, so I think the steps I’ve taken have been in the right direction.

I’m really sick of the prefix “post,” when applied to genres of music.

Most of it started in the 1990s, when terms like “post-punk,” “post-industrial,” and other such nonsense became popular buzzwords. Well, guess what people; it’s all meaningless drivel, and yet another attempt by bands and record labels in order to make themselves sound more important than they really are.

Want to know why? Allow me to explain. As we know, the prefix “post” means “after,” such as in the word “postapocalyptic” (after an apocalypse). When applied to genres of music, it goes to say that post-punk would mean “after punk.” One big problem: it’s still punk. Sure, it may sound a bit different, but that’s to be expected, as music as a medium evolves over time. In fact, that’s the entire point! Black Sabbath was referred to as “heavy metal” in the 1970s. Was Slayer then called “post-metal” in the 1980s? Of course not. It was still metal, just of an evolved form due to the passage of time. Thus, the “post” prefix is proven to be more pretentious manufactured bullshit.

As a devoted progressive rock fan, I’ve actually come across the term “post-prog” in my travels. That one really makes me fly into a rage. More than any other genre, the purpose of progressive rock is to constantly change and evolve, incorporating musical skill and experimentation. Post-prog? After prog? It’s the same goddamned thing, not to mention unnecessarily redundant, arrogant, and fucking stupid.

Someone needs to defang the current craze of vampire fiction, and do it fast. Every time I walk into a bookstore, that bullshit is everywhere.

Largely thanks to Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight, we’ve seen a massive explosion in books that cater to young adults (primarily women) featuring vampires, werewolves, and other such supernatural creatures in a contemporary setting. While that doesn’t seem too bad on the surface, this craze is rife with serious problems.

First and foremost is that a majority of the writers…well…can’t write. Stephen King has rightfully derided Meyer on this exact point. It’s fluff fiction, and the cookie-cutter plots and characters are showcases thereof. Furthermore, the characters in these books are appallingly one-dimensional. We’ve got angsty, emo teens or young adults…some of whom just happen to be monsters. But do any of these people do what monsters are supposed to do, which is terrorize and rule the human filth? Like I’ve said before…no. They wimp out with their own personal problems and petty romances. It’s the same thing, recycled over and over.

Hell, most of the books’ covers are the same, too! Far too many have the same trendy-looking chick on the cover, either sporting a bare midriff (often tattooed), or her lower back, complete with the ol’ tramp stamp. You’d think that the art departments would try to come up with something a bit more original, but when your plots are the same as six hundred and eighty-two other books out there, I guess the cover art doesn’t matter.

In the interest of full disclosure, I do read my share of pulp fiction, or “airport novels” as I like to refer to them. However, I’m not obsessed with the stuff, and I do like to broaden my horizons by reading across multiple genres, classic literature, and even (gasp!) non-fiction. The current craze of shitty vampire literature (let’s call it “shiterature” from now on) just has to stop. If I see one more emo vampire, I’m going to spew bile.

Proponents of this crap may try to stake their last defense on the fact that at least these books are getting more young people to read. Sure…but so did the Harry Potter series, and at least those are well-written.