I bumped into Walter Koenig at the Marriott hotel in Albuquerque in 1987; the douchebags from Sandia had some big-ass secret presentation,
I was the Shop Steward @Boulder Dam, and when you're living in Las Vegas, you'll take a free trip fucking anywhere ...
the meeting with the alien-fuckers was so top secret, they erased my memory of it as we left the suite and headed downstairs to find the bar;
instead, we found a little dog-and-pony comic book show in the main ballroom ... I was wandering around a bit, and came across a booth
with glass display cases full of old Star Trek props - Type I & II phasers, tricorders, Federation cell phones, lotsa little pins and badges and
bullshit .... and I almost stepped on this little guy in worn, faded jeans, brown engineer boots scuffed all to hell, and a ratty wool red sweater ...
so I'm looking at the "memorabilia" in the case, and because I use to be a friendly down-home Southern Gentlemen, I said to the little guy :
"wonder if them's real ... I mean, if they were used in the show or something ...."
"supposed to be." the little guy says, "They've all got affidavits from the prop departments they were supposed to have come from."
I grunt, and the little guy continues: "But you can never tell with these cocksuckers. I've seen one man, had a factory in Hong Kong
turning out a hundred phasers a day, and he sold them all with the same copied paperwork, all over the country."
bout then, I looked down at him and thought : Hey. That's fucking Checkov.
"No Shit ?" I say. "What's them things run ? " pointing at a phaser.
"About three hundred dollars more than it's worth, even if it was in the show."
"Huh." I says. "But, what if'n it happened to be the one Shatner slapped the taste outta Montalban's mouth with ?"
And Walter Koenig looked up at me with a grin on his face and a sparkle in his eye and said:
"Shit, that one's already in the Smithsonian."
And we nodded at each other like Men will do, and he wandered on down the display, and I thought, man, he sure is a little guy
but the point to this story was that it was only then that I noticed the hard-worn look of his clothes (he was the "guest speaker" at
this thing, and later on I wandered back in for a minute while he was answering the question every dipshit Trekkie has asked him since
the second movie, and he was still wearing that ratty sweater and worn-out jeans and scuffed up boots ...) but I watched him for a
minute or two, back at the vendor's booth, and he thumbed thru a box of what I seem to recall as being 8x10 photos, but it could've
been some kind of other crap, and pulled one out and held it up to the fat bald guy running the stand ... and pulled out the most
beaten-up, creased, worn-thru brown wallet I'd ever seen this side of a cowboy's back pocket ... and pulled out a couple of bills,
and put the coin-change in his pocket ....
and I thought, man, I bet Shatner & that other Jew musta really screwed this boy over ... that's a shame ....
and it was, sorta; except that the man seemed very happy and comfortable in his own skin; and even back then, Shatner was a fucking
parody of himself, and Nimoy's head was so blown out on acid and cocaine, the sumbitch had convinced himself he was from another planet ...
................ I exist only to amuse myself ................I personally feel that this message board, Jacurutu, is full of hateful folks who don't know
how to fully interact with people. ~ "Spice Grandson" (Bryon Merrit) 08 June 2008