John Kerry Starred on Star Trek TAS

Last year, I noted that a character on an episode of the "Star Trek" animated series resembled President Barack Obama.

Today, I noticed in watching the episode "Yesteryear" that another minor character resembles Massachusetts Senator John Kerry.

Uncanny, no?

The episode no longer appears on YouTube, so you'll have to trust me.

A Question

Used through the fair used doctrine for commentary purposes.

Many years ago, I read Robert Asprin’s MYTH series of books, but gave up after the one in which he shifted the narrative perspective through a series of characters in the same book.

I didn’t like the change. At all. Hearing those different voices, after books and books and books of the story from Skeeve’s perspective, just stopped the story cold for me.

Now the question:

When is it good to shift from one character’s perspective to another, when the story thusfar has been written not from an omnipresent narrator’s perspective, but from one character’s perspective?

I ask because I’m contemplating doing something radical with “Considering How to Run”/”Their Hearts Run Cold.” Here’s the rub: Up to this point, the story has been from Seth’s point of view. I’m now at a unique crossroads where the story could easily shift to Altus’ point of view and easily segue the story into another book entirely. That would mean combining the two proto-novels I’ve got now into one, and then doing a major refocus in the second installment, all from Altus’ point of view.

Truth be told I’ve contemplated simply combining the two novels for now, so that part of the shift isn’t all that scary. The shift in narrative perspective, however, is daunting.

I’m about to take that proverbial leap through the Guardian’s portal and into that other world. Thoughts?

Seeing What We Want to See

Is this woman holding a cell phone?

More importantly, if this woman is holding a cell phone and is a time-traveler who happened to get caught on camera in a clip from Charlie Chaplin’s 1928 movie “The Circus,” then who is she talking to? Obviously, she’s not alone. Obviously, whoever came with her also brought a cell tower so they could converse.

Or, you could say this:

Look at the shadows. They’re dark and crisp, made darker and crisper by the bright lights that have to be used even now to record film footage properly, be it on celluloid or in the ethers. She’s shielding her face from the light.

Or she’s just a wanderer on the street who suddenly saw the camera – they didn’t block off streets to film little scenes like this back then; Chaplin was very much into verisimilitude as well – so she was being coy, or shy, but still wanting to walk on through.

It’s true she’s holding her hand up to hear head as if she’s talking on a cell phone. But is that because we’re used to seeing hands in that position, used to thinking of people walking briskly down the street talking on cell phones? Of course. And when I see an African-American woman holding her head to hear ear like this:

I naturally assume she’s a time-traveler from the future who is communicating with one of those ear-pieces Lieutenant Uhura has, so I naturally understand those who think the woman in the Chaplin film is talking into a cell phone.

Where Does the Film Go, Mr. Majors?

Something dawned on me while we were driving to work this morning. Lee Majors, in the Six Million Dollar Man, had a camera in his eye. Was that a camera that used 35 mm film, and if so, how did he replace the film or eject the exposed cartridges? I’d like to think he either had a USB-style port in his head where the exposed film could be ejected and the new roll put in, or perhaps they were more subtle – and a whole lot creepier – and just had the film drop out into his mouth when it was ready to go, so he could spit it out and then swallow a new roll. Must investigate this.

Here's what Wikipedia has to say:

A 20.2:1 zoom lens along with a night vision function in the left eye (as well as the restoration of normal vision). The figure of 20.2:1 is taken from the faux computer graphics in the opening credits; the only figure actually mentioned in the series, by Austin himself, is 20:1, in the episode "Population: Zero." Austin's bionic eye also has other features, such as an infrared feature used frequently to see in the dark, and he has also demonstrated the ability to detect heat (as in the episode "The Pioneers") and view humanoid beings moving too fast for a normal eye to see (as in the "Secret of Bigfoot" story arc). One early episode shows the eye as a deadly accurate targeting device for his throwing arm.

In Caidin's original novels, Austin's eye was originally depicted as simply a camera (which had to be physically removed after use) and Austin remained blind in the eye; later, he gained the ability to shoot a laser from the eye (this ability is also demonstrated in the first issue of the Six Million Dollar Man comic book issued by Charlton Comics).

So the TV show was understandably vague. The novel was more explicit, with noting the necessity of removing the entire camera from the skull after use. That seems really, really weird to me. Even stranger than the whole eye-based laser beam. But I suppose back then that digital photography wasn't even on the horizon, but it is incredible in this case (as with many cases) that the prognosticators didn't think these things all the way through.

Or, I should concede, did they figure the camera wasn't there for taking pictures, but for Steve Austin to be the big man and be able to zoom in and examine what was going on from a distance, and the clicka clicka noise was only for the edification of the audience? Can't be. Because tere were probably times they used photos he took, or at least wanted to use the photos he took. Why gie a guy a camera if there's no way to get images out of his head? That's all hearsay evidence in any court of law, even those the OSI might have subscribed to.
 
Another one that's always bugged me: Even with 24th-century technology, the best Star Trek-era medicine could do for Capt. Pike was a wheelchair that collected his poop and the ability to say "bloop bloop" for yes and "bloop" for no. So you can invent transporters, but can't even imagine medicine even a tinier bit better than what was available in 1960? Mr. Roddenberry (and others) for shame.

 
But the lack of imagination has at least produced this.