I bought the entire series of the original Star Trek and then Star Trek TNG, which I happen to like much better than the original, for the library. Indeed, the original ST is rife with a sort of Sixties sensibility for all of its futuristic racial and gender equality; the first season had poor Yeoman Rand, a blond bombshell whose sole purpose in life seems to be getting leered at and slapped on the butt by male members of the crew. And the whole Kirk vs Picard thing, I have always rooted for Picard.  MORE Mojo! »

My, how the time does fly! It was scarcely a month ago that I whined incessantly about being dragged kicking and screaming to the latest "movie" based on a 1970s comic book. I wish now to amend my hasty proclamation in that post, wherein I stated "I shall anticipate any and all future movies put out by MARVEL's production arm with dread and despair". I spoke too soon. I now wish to add DC Comics to the mix. Having just been dragged kicking and screaming to see the latest Batman. I acquiesced finally only because of the promise of air conditioning, but about an hour into said movie being trapped in the pickup with the windows rolled up started to look pretty good.  MORE Mojo! »

You know. Like Ozzie and Harriet. Or the Cleavers.

It turns out the Nielson people are somewhat civilized, after all. When they somehow couldn't get a hold of me on the phone (which is almost NEVER the way to contact Mojo if you really have no business calling her), they wised up and sent her a letter. And this time instead of threatening to call her, they just sent the freakin' diary.

Which looks, quite frankly, like a big pain in the butt, but I figured it would be. And there's precious little space to blab creatively about just how sucky commercial television has become. I suppose silence can likewise be construed as an editorial comment, but Mojo vastly prefers filling that silence with whining and complaints.

But I see now the potential to influence the future of television and make substantially more than the five dollar bribe they tucked into the diary. How's about I sell my viewing choices to the highest bidder? You see, Mojo really has no shame. If you have a show you'd like me to promote, offer Mojo wads of cash. As Pooh-Bah once said, "Choose your fiction and I'll endorse it!" So long as it's not, like, American Idol or Fear Factor or any of that wretched reality show crap. Even Mojo has a conscience, buried somewhere in that money-grubbing, miserable "I'd-sell-my-own-mother-for-a-dollar" exterior.

I am not going to let the dreadful diary format beat my creativity. I just need some time to think about how to best relay my decidedly low opinion of the entire industry. Something tasteful yet memorable.

Or I'll just say "what the hey" and fill it out while grumbling impotently to myself. Because really, is the industry really worth investing any great time into it? Now that DVDs are popular I can watch any show I wish whenever I want without having to watch the commercials. Like the wretched but funny Star Treks we are now slogging through...

Mojo

So this is sad. For the past week or so my Favorite Husband and I have been watching the entire DVD set of Star Trek: the Original Series. We've just finished a marathon of Season One. Tray funny. I forgot entirely about Yeoman Rand, a blonde woman whose sole purpose appears to be to act as the willing recipient of sexual harassment from every male member of the crew.

(This morning we are just starting what I thought was Season Two, but is in fact Season Three. Thank you, Favorite Husband, for opening the wrong box. It's the one where a group of idiot fembots steals Spock's brain right out of his head and use it to run their planetary life support systems and--you know--help open pickle jars for them. My Favorite Husband is now wandering the house exclaiming "Brain! Brain! What is brain?" at odd intervals. Yes, Mojo's life is indeed that exciting.)  MORE Mojo! »