Star Trek: Into Darkness (SPOILERS!)

WARNING: HERE BE SPOILERS

So on Monday morning, just on a whim, I sent out an email on the Div Social email list for Wake Div, seeing if anybody wanted to go see Star Trek: Into Darkness with me. I figured I’d get one, maybe two people who wanted to go…
…and yet, try FIFTEEN.

Some of these people had virtually zero knowledge of the Star Trek world – they wanted to go for the social aspect of it. However, I, the Trekker/Trekkie (whatever, I don’t mind either term) who has seen every episode of every series at least twice and ALMOST all of the movies at least five times each (I’ve only been able to stomach Star Trek V: The Final Facepalm twice in my life), made sure that everybody who went to see the movie had a good enough knowledge of the universe that preceded it that they would not just understand what was going on, but understand how it fit into the greater Trek cosmos – even if they didn’t understand all the “insider” references – of which there were many.

So about those insider references. In JJ Abrams’ first Star Trek movie, in 2009, script-writer Roberto Orci, a self-confessed Star Trek fanboy, wrote in many, with references to five of the six original movies and the series Enterprise. He did the same for this movie, and while the references in this movie were not AS diverse, it was still chock full of them. There were callbacks to Star Trek III: The Search for Spock and Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, as well as a nod to Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, with the reference to Commander John Harrison being employed by Starfleet’s Section 31, the very Abrams-esque intelligence and covert ops unit that was discovered in the latter seasons of DS9.

And then there were the references to Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. Or, rather, not references, but blatant self-plagiarizing. From the fact that John Harrison was actually Khan Noonien Singh, to the presence of Dr. Carol Marcus, to the entire engine room scene twenty minutes before the end of the movie (“The ship?” “Out of danger.” “I have been, and always shall be, your friend.” “KHAAAAAAAAAAAAN!”), this movie was, in a sense, Wrath of Khan stood on its head. But I was okay with that. I thought it was a very clever way of taking what is, to this day, still the best Star Trek movie ever made, extracting the source material, and using it to create an entirely new story that still echoes the original misadventures of Khan, the genetically engineered superman. It also further cemented Chris Pine as James T. Kirk (especially since there was one scene where I swear to God he was possessed by William Shatner) and Zachary Quinto as Mr. Spock… and as far as Karl Urban goes, he may well just be the reincarnation of DeForest Kelley, because good GOD man, he’s got Dr. Leonard McCoy down to a T.

It’ll be interesting to see who takes on the next Bad Robot Star Trek movie, since JJ Abrams will be stepping aside to direct Star Wars Episode VII. Given the fantasticness of this and the 2009 Star Trek, I can’t imagine that Paramount and Bad Robot would turn it over to just anybody. In fact, I’m willing to bet that they’ll look toward the ranks of the recent premiere comic book movie directors to harvest – and if they were to get somebody like Jon Favreau or Christopher Nolan to cross over to Starfleet… oh, what a film that could be.

We won’t see the next Star Trek movie next year. We won’t see it in 2015, because that’s when Star Wars and The Avengers return. But 2016? Maybe 2017?

Either way… I can’t wait.

Khan sure does have a thing for beating the hell out of the Enterprise…

Final Thought for the Year; from a Graduating Senior

Reblogged from Unfolding:

adapted from the pilot episode of CBS's "How I Met Your Mother"

Kids, I’d like to tell you a story.  It’s a story of drama, of comedy, of happiness, of sadness, of theology (believe it or not), and of love.  Kids, this is the story of how I met your mother.

A little over twenty years ago, back in August of 2010, my life changed in a very serious fashion. 

Read more… 1,011 more words

My final thought for the year on the Wake Forest University School of Divinity blog.

Ten Days with the Devil – a sermon

April 9th, 2013 – Second week of Easter
Texts: Psalm 30:8-12, Revelation 2:8-11
Hymns: “Morning Has Broken”, “All Creatures of Our God and King”
Anthems: “Timshel” (M. Mumford & T. Dwane for the Mumford & Sons album Sigh No More, sung by Caitie Smith), “Fix You” (C. Martin & W. Champion for the Coldplay album X&Y, arr. by J. Gawne, sung by Michelle Butler, Tasharia Harris, and Jessica Place, with Hillary Irusta on guitar)

You can download an audio recording of this sermon from Wake Forest University’s Deacnet.

“Ten Days with the Devil”

On Sunday, February 3rd, my mom arrived in her home town of Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Having spent the first two decades of her life there prior to moving to Arizona, ordinarily, trips home were joyous occasions, marking holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, family reunions, or simply vacations back to her familial home.

Such was not the reason for this trip. On this trip, my mother was heading home to be with her family in a time of grief and need. Her younger sister, Barbie, had admitted to the Hiawatha Hospice of Mercy outside of Cedar Rapids that weekend. After nearly a decade of battling breast and ovarian cancer, the end of her pain and struggle was near.

The following days were very difficult, both for Barbie and for the rest of my mom’s family. There were certainly positives – many family and friends were able to come and see Barbie for one last time, as she had coherent, lucid periods most days where she was able to visit with them – but for the most part, her pain and suffering simply increased. So labored was her breathing and so difficult was it for her body to function at some points that her doctors admitted they simply did not understand how she was still alive.

Finally, though, on the morning of Wednesday, February 13th, my Aunt Barbie let go of her pain, and entered into the embrace of the Creator. For her, it was a release from the weaknesses and suffering brought on by ten years of illness, and for the rest of my mom’s family, it marked the end of ten excruciating days.

(Scripture read by Amy Russell)
Revelation 2:8-11
To the angel of the church in Smyrna write:
These are the words of the first and the last, who was dead and came to life:
“I know your affliction and your poverty, even though you are rich. I know the slander on the part of those who say that they are Jews and are not, but are a synagogue of Satan. Do not fear what you are about to suffer. Beware, the devil is about to throw some of you into prison so that you may be tested, and for ten days you will have affliction. Be faithful until death, and I will give you the crown of life. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches. Whoever conquers will not be harmed by the second death.”

The Church at Smyrna. Of the seven churches to which John the Revelator wrote letters at the beginning of Revelation, Smyrna was one of two, along with Philadelphia, that John did not call to repentance for some sort of sin. In fact, he acknowledged the suffering that the church at Smyrna had undergone and encouraged them to remain faithful!

Not that they had a particularly easy time remaining faithful. This community of Christians, like the other six to which the Revelator wrote, existed in a major city of the Roman Empire. Smyrna was a port city, and also a center of worship – it had been designated a temple city for the cult of the Emperor. The city existed under a constant state of scrutiny from Rome, for there were certain standards that had to be maintained in order to retain its important status in the Empire.

However, the Church at Smyrna was under a particularly greater deal of persecution than the other churches. They suffered for their faith, forced into poverty, unable to take part in the power and wealth of the city, oppressed by the government – but not because the government had identified them as troublemakers or insurrectionists. No, the cause of the oppression of the Church at Smyrna came from their own theological cousins – the Jewish community of Smyrna; the Synagogue of Satan.

Now, to be fair, this is not automatically a condemnation of the entire Jewish community at Smyrna. J. Massyngberde Ford of the University of Notre Dame has suggested that the background for the Revelator’s condemnation of the synagogue was that he himself was raised as an orthodox Jew, and felt that the Christian community at Smyrna was doing a better job of holding to Jewish practices and customs than was the Jewish community.[1] Not least among these, of course, would be the practice of hospitality – the Jewish community of which the Revelator speaks had rejected the Christian community at Smyrna, committing the sort of violation which led Jesus to instruct his disciples to “shake the dust off of their feet” as they left towns where they had been rejected, and in fact, the sort of violation which had brought destruction and doom upon the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.

And so, the impoverishment and the persecution which the Church at Smyrna endured were well known to John the Revelator. He was specifically instructed to speak to those things when the letter was dictated to him. And surely, the leader of the Church at Smyrna – the “angel of the church in Smyrna”, as the letter says – would have expected that John would’ve next said something along the lines of, “But take heart, for the Lord is about to unburden you of this synagogue of Satan!”

But no. The letter doesn’t say that. In fact, for the Church in Smyrna, things were about to get worse.
“The devil is about to throw some of you into prison,” the Revelator says, “and for ten days you will have affliction.”

Well, things just aren’t going well for the Church in Smyrna, now are they? Ten days of affliction. Would those be in a literal prison? Quite possibly so. Why, the Revelator does not explain; however, New Testament professor and President of Union Presbyterian Seminary Brian Blount suggests that this is a continuation of the persecution they have experienced because of the collaboration of the synagogue at Smyrna, and is representative of the Satanic activity that takes place throughout the book of Revelation.[2]

But the period of time is brief – ten days. And ten is no random number, at least not in Hebrew tradition. The number ten, like the number seven, indicated completion, that something was finished. It is entirely possible that the Revelator is telling the Church in Smyrna that these coming ten days will mark the completion of their persecution. And because the period of time is so brief, he considers it to be entirely survivable. “Do not fear what you are about to suffer,” the Revelator instructs them. “Be faithful, even unto death.”

Okay, so survival may be a relative term in this case. Physical survival may be possible, but even if not, then it is still important that the Church in Smyrna maintain their faith up until the end. It will not be an easy task, maintaining that faith, but that’s why the Revelator is writing them – he is there to walk alongside them in spirit, to encourage them. “You’re about to be out of your depth,” he tells them, “but the Lord is with you. Keep your faith, even if it means the end of your life, and you will not be forgotten.”

(Reading by Jessica Place)
“Warning! You are now at 7,000 feet. Use extreme caution during athletic participation. If you feel light headed or dizzy, cease activity immediately. Physical exertion at high altitude can be harmful to athletic participants. Welcome to Flagstaff, Arizona!”

That warning is posted throughout the J. Lawrence Walkup Skydome on the campus of Northern Arizona University. In most places, it is meant in a light-hearted fashion, to intimidate the opponent and to give the NAU Lumberjacks a certain feeling of advantage – generally, the only advantage Northern Arizona athletics has. But in one place, it is meant entirely seriously.

It is posted directly outside the exit to the visitors’ locker room, and there, it is meant to say, “Be careful. Your body is not used to these altitudes. You could hurt yourself if you’re not careful, because like the Church at Smyrna, you are out of your depth.”

Perhaps nobody better understands the concept of being out of their depth better than the family and friends of an individual who has found themselves in hospice care. Their loved one is going to die. They know this, and there is nothing that they can do about it. And so they gather at the place of care, simultaneously desperate to spend time with their loved one and reluctant to see them in such a place, knowing that they have very little time left with them and yet loath to see them as they deteriorate unto death.

And the time an individual spends in hospice care can seem like an eternity – but realistically, it’s a very brief period of time. According to a 2010 study conducted by the National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization, the majority of those who receive hospice care do so for no more than 21 days. Three weeks.[3]

Think about how short a period of time that is. It’s been more than three weeks since Spring Break ended. It’s only three weeks until the last day of classes. It is not a very long time. But if you are the family member of somebody in hospice care, it can seem like an eternity. Watching your loved one as they slowly slip from this world, often in pain, praying for their release, calling out as the prophet Habakkuk, “How long, oh Lord, will you hear my prayer and not answer,” praying desperately for the pain to end. Just like the church at Smyrna, for my mom, sitting with her sister, it was ten days. Her own personal ten days with the devil.

Hospice care seems to me to be the modern day church at Smyrna. Affliction of the faithful for such a brief period of time, but to the extent that it could break their faith. And like John the Revelator, there is a responsibility for caregivers – for doctors, for nurses, and perhaps most of all, for pastors and chaplains – to be the source of encouragement for those family members. Yes, the job of caregivers is certainly to ensure that the patient spends their last days with a minimum of pain and suffering, but it seems that it is equally important that they ensure that the family of the loved one can experience this transition of life with a minimum of trauma.

This was a lesson that I learned early on in my unit of CPE at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Durham. My area of responsibility at the VA included the Community Living Center, which is essentially a nursing home and hospice care facility within the hospital, run by the VA.

On my second day of CPE, I was conducting normal rounds in the Community Living Center, when a floor nurse approached me and told me that she needed me to come with her right away. “Mr. Smith* is actively dying,” she told me, “and I need you to stay with him until his family members arrive.”

And so, I went into Mr. Smith’s room, to see a man, unconscious, body wasted away. His difficulty breathing was evident, and he was very clearly close to death. I took a seat next to his bed, to keep watch until his family arrived.

As I sat there, I began looking around the room – and my eye fell on a picture on his closet door. In that picture was a robust, strong, healthy man of about fifty, wearing the green Class A dress uniform of the US Army, the stripes of a Sergeant Major gleaming on his sleeves. “SMITH”, his nametag proclaimed. This man in the picture was somehow the same man lying in the bed next to where I sat.

And as I processed this information, my mind began to churn. This man’s age meant that he would have served in Vietnam. This man’s ethnicity – African-American – meant that the period of time when he came of age would have been profoundly affected by the Civil Rights movement. This man’s place of origin – eastern North Carolina – meant that he would have returned home from Vietnam to a country that despised him for his uniform, and to a place where many despised him for his skin color.

As I pondered all this, something else began to sneak into my mind. I was, at that time, barely two months removed from officer training at the Naval Officer Training Command in Newport, Rhode Island. One of the things that our instructors had made very clear to us was that as junior officers, if we made sure to take care of our senior enlisted officers, they too would take care of us. And the voices of those instructors saying that to us crept into my head as I, a junior officer, sat there next to a senior enlisted officer, unable to do anything for him but just sit by his side.

That was not good enough. And so it was that when his sister and cousin arrived a short while later, I felt the need to do something. So, I stood, greeted them, and as I was leaving, came to attention at the foot of his bed, and said, “Sergeant Major Smith, on behalf of the United States Navy and of the Navy Chaplain Corps, thank you for your service.”

His sister and his cousin both smiled through their tears as I did that and thanked me. “Thank you, and God bless you,” his sister said to me as I left, but I was still frustrated. In a move that I’m sure will shock and amaze all of you, I later took to Facebook to vent my frustrations on the matter.

What came as a surprise to me was the email I got that evening from Ensign Stephanie Horigan, a Navy nurse who had been in my training company at Newport, who herself has spent a great deal of time working in palliative and hospice care, and who had read my Facebook posts on the matter. “Being with someone who is dying can be one of the most trying things about any profession that puts service above self,” she said. “It can be devastating, but at the same time, think of what an incredible gift you gave his family – you gave them comfort, knowing that their loved one was not alone in his final hours.”

Looking back on that day nearly eight months ago, I realize now that in that moment, Sergeant Major Smith’s family was like the Church at Smyrna. They had been taken from a place of love and experiences with family into an unknown, frightening place where emotional trauma occurred every day as they watched their loved one leave them. And in that moment, my job was to be like John the Revelator, to walk alongside them and provide them the encouragement to be faithful and strong.

It was what John was called to do, and it is what we are each called to do. In their ten days of affliction, we stand alongside those family members. We take them by the hand, and we say, “Remain faithful, for you are not alone in this.”

Amen.

* – Name changed to comply with HIPAA
1. Ford, J. Massyngberd [1995]. Anchor Bible – Revelation. New Haven: Yale. p.395
2. Blount, Brian [2009]. Revelation. Louisville: Westminster John Knox. p.54
3. Sinclair, Christian [2010]. Hospice facts and figures 2010 released by NHCPO. In End of life/palliative education resource center. Retrieved from http://www.eperc.mcw.edu/EPERC/WhatsNew/News/HospiceFactsandFigures2010ReleasedbyNHPCO.

ENS James Gawne, USNR, CHC (WFU MDiv ’13) stands at ease while Amy Russell (WFU MDiv ’13) reads Rev. 2:8-11

Nail it to the cross and BEAR IT NO MORE

So, as you may remember, the last time I got all riled up about something, it was in part to do with the gays – specifically, how the School of Divinity at Wake Forest University seems to be uncomfortable with identifying itself as an Open and Affirming institution in spite of years and years of LGBTQ students wandering its halls, earning Master’s degrees in Divinity.

Guess what? The gays have me all riled up again.

This time, it’s to do with the Defense of Marriage Act and California’s Proposition 8 (2008), both of which are being argued this week before the Supreme Court as unconstitutional. DOMA, in short, has since 1996 defined in federal law the idea that marriage is between a man and a woman, thus denying domestic partner benefits to same sex couples, and Prop 8 amended the California state constitution to say the same.

And you see, there is no good reason for any of this. Backers of these bans say that they’re necessary to preserve the sanctity of marriage, and that the Supreme Court must uph-

Wait a second. Sanctity?! WHAT THE F-

“sanc·ti·ty [noun] \ˈsaŋ(k)-tə-tē\: 1: holiness of life or character: GODLINESS. 2: the quality or state of being holy or sacred: INVIOLABILITY”

In other words, proponents of these bans are making the case that they’re necessary on religious grounds. And, y’see, last time I checked…

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion.”

The first ten words of the First Amendment to the United States Constitution, the Supreme Court has found repeatedly that this applies to ALL manifestations of the state, from the smallest of local governments to the federal government itself. In other words, making laws on religious grounds?
NOT SUPPOSED TO FLY IN THIS COUNTRY!

And yet it has, and yet it does. These laws represent what I see as the gay version of Jim Crow laws – laws enacted to tell a particular group of people what they can and cannot do. And don’t get me wrong – in no way am I comparing the plight of LGBTQ peoples to that of African-Americans before the Civil Rights Movement. That particular horrendous chapter in American history stands on its own, and will forever be a scar on this country’s legacy.

This particular chapter is a far less violent, and far more subtly insidious form of discrimination. We do not chain LGBTQ persons, we do not beat them, we do not enslave them, we do not tell them they can’t use a particular water fountain. No, instead, our government has chosen to strip them of their dignity by way of telling them who they can and cannot marry, what benefits they can and cannot have…
And oh yeah, I forgot. These laws DO tell them what bathrooms they can and cannot use, no matter their gender identity.

But you know what? Much as the injustice pisses me off, much as the blatant, outright flouting of the document which I swore an oath before God to protect pisses me off, those two reasons in and of themselves are not what riles me up the most about this.

I’ll tell you what does.

In a little over a year, I will be getting married to my love, my soulmate, the missing piece of my heart, the beautiful, intelligent, funny, snarky Southern girl with a heart of gold and a head of red, Caitie. That sunny May afternoon will be one of the greatest and most memorable moments of my life. It’s an afternoon I look forward to now, and it’s one that I know I will remember forever.
And yet… it almost feels wrong to do it. You know why?

My sister, Elli. She’s an awesome American. She drinks crappy beer (seriously, Bud Lite?). She listens to crap that passes for music (seriously, Tim McGraw?). She eats crappy food (McDonald’s? REALLY?!). She treats the speed limit as a suggestion (okay, we’re all guilty of that). She yells at idiots, deploys her wisdom signal when necessary in traffic, and has been known to sing really, REALLY bad karaoke. I mean, ideal American right here.

You know what else she is (besides an incredibly smart, gainfully employed, college graduate, productive member of society)? She’s gay. She came out to me just before I came to Wake Forest, and to my family a few months ago. She lives with her girlfriend now, and they’ve reached a point in their relationship where they think they might like to spend the rest of their lives together. They’d like to get married, and while my sister seems to think that I might not necessarily be the first minister in line to officiate, HOW IS BEING HER OLDER BROTHER NOT THE TRUMPIEST OF ALL TRUMP CARDS?!

Yet I digress.

You see, much as these two dyed-in-the-wool red-blooded Americans would like to get married (and much as I’d like to officiate, hint hint), they can’t. Not in Arizona, at least. Not in the only state my sister has EVER called home. Sure, Phoenix, Tempe, Tucson, and Flagstaff are all pretty darn good places to be gay (which, capital city and college towns – isn’t that how it goes in so many places?), but the state of Arizona is a s***ty place to be gay. In 2008, Proposition 102 was voted into law thanks to a campaign of hatred, and now the Arizona state constitution specifically says that marriage is between a man and a woman.

And, you know, yes, they could go someplace where it’s legal to get married. Even I’m guilty of having suggested it, saying that they should consider Iowa – our mother’s home state, and a place where same sex marriage is legal. But why should they? Why on earth should they have to do anything other than go down to the Maricopa County Courthouse, get the marriage license, and then drive up to Foothills Christian Church and have Erin Wathen perform the dog & pony show? Why should it be any more difficult than that?

It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t at all.

Laws based entirely off of religious beliefs need to go, for they are an implicit violation of the First Amendment. Furthermore, they impinge upon the life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness of these individuals, and I’m fairly certain there’s a pretty important document that says that those three human rights are inalienable. Hopefully, the nine Honorable Justices of the Supreme Court (or, at the very least, five of them) will recognize the Constitutional problems and do the right thing by striking down DOMA and Prop 8.

But in addition to that, these laws are SINFUL. They are predicated in hatred. They twist the Word of God to discriminate against those who are “other”. They take away the agency of human persons, and make them less than who they are – perfect creations in the Imago Dei.

No more. Good Friday is coming. The cross will stand upon Golgotha, and by God, it is high time that the sin and hatred that led us to DOMA, Prop 8, Prop 102, Amendment One, and all the imitations thereof across the country, be nailed to the cross. Let us nail this sin and hatred to the cross and then we as a people SHALL BEAR THEM NO MORE!

It’s Time to Be Honest

I have spent the last two and a half years (in fact, two and a half years to the DAY, I’m just now realizing) as a student at the School of Divinity at Wake Forest University. And I have loved it. It has been a phenomenal experience. I actually DO feel like I will be adequately prepared to go into pastoral ministry when I leave this place, and I have gotten to experience one of the greatest Christian communities I could have ever asked to be part of.

But I am sensing a problem as of late. What problem is that? Well, I think that this School of Divinity is not being honest with itself. It is trying to be something, but it doesn’t want the world to know about that.

Now, what exactly does that highly confusing and ambiguously worded statement mean?

Let me explain.

If you know the way things are at Wake Div, if you’ve been a student here at some point since it opened in 1999, if you’re aware of Wake Div’s interaction with social justice causes, you would think that the following might be a reasonable Statement of Purpose to see proudly displayed on our website and other promotional material:

“Drawing on the best traditions of our Baptist heritage, Wake Forest University School of Divinity is an Open and Affirming, Radically Inclusive, Intentionally Ecumenical Community of Christian theological education, dedicated to training students for leadership in the Church of the 21st century and beyond.”

And yet, not so much with that.

“I’ll die on this floor of non-discriminatory admissions.” Those were the words spoken by our founding Dean and Professor of Church History, Dr. Bill Leonard, to a gathering of “mainstream” Baptists in Atlanta, Georgia, on April 25th, 2000. He spoke these words in defense of Wake Div’s decision to admit an openly gay female student to the School of Divinity for the 2000-01 school year. Were one to consider his words, one might have thought them the first blast of the trumpet against the monstrous regiment of homophobes.

And yet, not so much with that.

If you visit the website of Wake Div and you don’t know where to start looking, it’s going to take you quite a while to find where it says we’re an ecumenical school. It will take you even longer to find anything about our diversity and inclusivity. And looking for something about us being Open and Affirming? Forget it. You’re not gonna find it, not on our website (and don’t even bother with the School of Divinity bulletin, because it isn’t there either).

Or at least, I haven’t yet.

So, I have to ask, what on earth is the problem here? Why is the Wake Forest University School of Divinity hiding behind the skirts of a wishy-washy form of ecumenism? Why is it that we seem to be ashamed of an identity of which we should be PROUD – a beacon of inclusivity, of open affirmation of ALL human persons, regardless of sexual or gender identity (or, for that matter racial or ethnic identity), shining brightly in the vast dark wasteland of discrimination that is the southeastern United States of America?

In fact, why shouldn’t the front page of our website look something like this:

Sure, maybe that’s just a pipe dream. But it shouldn’t be.

Last week, everybody in the soon-to-graduate Class of 2013 got a request to complete an email survey regarding our commencement ceremonies. One of the questions was, “What gift would you like your class to give to the school?”

I’ll tell you what gift I’d love to see the Class of 2013 give to Wake Div:

A plea to the school to lay claim to its identity as the school that it set out to be. A hopeful entreaty that Wake Div would fulfill the dream set forth in 1999, when the doors of Wingate Hall opened to students of the School of Divinity for the first time.

We are Wake Div. Let’s live into who we are.

A Farewell to Nerds, Pt. II

About a year ago, I wrote a post entitled “A Farewell to Nerds“, about the end of the NBC show Chuck. And so, this, a year later, is a return to the theme – except this time, it’s about the end of the FOX show Fringe. The two-hour series finale of Fringe aired on Friday night, and even though I was on a getaway weekend with Caitie (during which we got engaged, but if you’re reading this, you already knew that), she was gracious enough to let me watch the finale when it aired. And I’m quite glad I did.

Like Chuck, Fringe was not a series I got into right away. In fact, it took me until the end of the first season to actually start watching. What prompted me to do so? Well, at the time, I was working at the Holiday Inn Express in Glendale. I had my own office, and most mornings, I would listen to the “Kevin and Bean Show” on KROQ, out of Los Angeles, streaming through their website. Their showbiz/entertainment reporter, Ralph Garman, had effusive praise for Fringe, and since he usually has a pretty good sense of what is and isn’t good, I thought maybe I should check it out. However, it was an interview that they did on KROQ with John Noble (Dr. Walter Bishop) that REALLY hooked me.

For those of you unfamiliar with the show, it centers on a special division of the FBI known as the Fringe Division. This group of agents investigates cases that cannot be explained through typical forensics and science. The pilot episode centers on a case wherein a 747 lands in Boston, with everybody onboard dead. Their flesh has melted, and the plane auto-landed itself. Over the course of the episode, Agent Olivia Dunham and her partner/boyfriend, Agent John Scott, go on a search to figure out how this happened, and to figure out who inside the FBI is helping the people who caused the deaths of the passengers. Along the way, Agent Dunham needs the expertise of Dr. Walter Bishop; however, he’s in an insane asylum. So, she tracks his son, Peter Bishop, to Basra, where she confronts him and convinces him to help the Fringe Division. In the end, they figure out what happened, but unfortunately, also discover that Agent Scott was the mole (and in a bizarre case of life imitating art, Anna Torv, who played Olivia Dunham, and Mark Valley, who played John Scott, got married during the second season, only to divorce during the fourth season, although not because he was a traitor).

All five seasons centered around bizarre stories such as that. Numerous plot arcs occurred, including the invasion of our universe by a parallel universe, the deaths of characters along the way, the peace forged between two universes, the scientific advances of mad Dr. William Bell (played to perfection by Leonard Nimoy), and in the end, the invasion of twenty-first century Earth by time travelers from the twenty-seventh century, and their eventual defeat at the hands of the original Fringe team.

As any good sci-fi show must, Fringe had its romantic coupling, in the form of Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop, although when you have a show of this nature, you can throw the most ludicrous obstacles at it, including (but not limited to) Olivia being stuck in an alternate universe (but only temporarily), Peter being wiped out of existence (but only temporarily), and Olivia casting her eye on Agent Lincoln Lee while Peter was “away” (but, again, only temporarily, and in Agent Lee’s case, that arc ended with him PERMANENTLY MOVING TO THE ALTERNATE UNIVERSE).

But there were several things that separated Fringe from most. It was a well-made show – but well it should’ve been, coming as it did from the twisted mind of J.J. Abrams. It was extraordinarily intelligent, but it paid the price for its lack of mass consumer access in low ratings and eventual exile, first from the post-American Idol slot to Thursday nights, and eventually to the Friday Night Death Slot (although FOX gave the show a ridiculous amount of grace in letting it run as long as they did). And most of all, it was funny – and not unintentionally funny. The writers obviously wrote the show to have a dark comedic streak to it, and they did it very well.

And so, for five seasons, Anna Torv, Joshua Jackson, Jasika Nicole, and John Noble entertained those of us who were willing to support the show. The glaring product placement (Ford! Nissan! SPRINT! ye gods, SPRINT!) was forgiven, especially when it all but disappeared during season five (kind of difficult to have product placement in a future dystopia, although they did succeed a couple of times in dropping a glaringly obvious brand spanking new Dodge Charger into various scenes). The show was embraced and loved.

And by God, if John Noble doesn’t get nominated for an Emmy for season five, somebody might go encase the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences in amber. Truth be told, it would probably improve the appearance of the northeast corner of Magnolia & Lankershim.

So long, Fringe. And may you keep the weird cases that plague Boston out of the public eye and quiet from the rest of the world.

The Epiphabeer – Founders CBS imperial stout

It is Epiphany, and today, our thirty-ninth (counting the two Beervent bonus beers) and final craft beer will be reviewed. Today’s beer is the CBS imperial stout, from the Founders Brewing Company in Grand Rapids, Michigan. CBS clocks in at a 10.60% ABV, with a 100% score from Beer Advocate.

“On entering the brewery, they saw the beer with Founders, its brewer; and they knelt down and paid it homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered it gifts of hops, malt, and yeast.” – The Gospel of Beer, the second chapter, the eleventh verse*

Let’s be real for a minute here. No beer will ever be perfect. Every beer you drink, no matter how good, no matter how it affects your world view, is going to leave you with a bit of a headache the next morning if you drink too much of it. That is especially true of beers such as this one, with its unbelievable 10.6% ABV.
That having been said, if there WAS a perfect beer, CBS would undoubtedly be it. Actually brewed with chocolate AND coffee and then aged in maple syrup-treated bourbon casks… I feel like it tastes like what the best parts of Canada would taste like if you could bottle them (and by the best parts of Canada, I mean, of course, its natural beauty, its maple syrup, its low crime rate, and William Shatner). That, despite the fact that it’s very much an American beer, made in Michigan. And this is not a beer that needs to be accompanied by anything. This is a beer that can stand on its own. No food needed.
And that is the end of more than five weeks of craft beer. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it, because I can ASSURE you that I’ve had fun creating it!

Image credit: drinkhacker.com

* – Yes, that is a parody of Matthew 2:11, the verse where the Magi encounter the Christ child – the event celebrated on the day of Epiphany. Yes, I’m aware that it’s a joke that only a theological student would make.

The Twelfth Beer of Christmas – Foothills Hoppyum IPA

It’s the twelfth day of Christmas, and today’s beer is the Hoppyum IPA, from the Foothills Brewing Company in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Hoppyum clocks in at a 6.30% ABV, with an 86% score from Beer Advocate.

Ah yes. Here it is, at long last – the much ballyhooed Hoppyum, the gold standard against which I judge all other IPAs. When you drink Hoppyum, it punches you in the face and shouts, “I’M AN INDIA PALE ALE, DAMMIT!” There is no mistaking what this beer is. It does not masquerade as an amber or a regular pale ale; no no, this beer hops on your tongue (see what I did there?) and throws spices at you until your taste buds explode.
This beer goes particularly well with a massive plate of cheese’n'bacon fries. Those of you who have actually had it AT Foothills know exactly what I’m talkin’ ’bout!

Image credit: johnsciacca.webs.com

The Eleventh Beer of Christmas – Left Hand Nitro milk stout

It’s the eleventh day of Christmas, and today’s beer is the Nitro milk stout, from the Left Hand Brewing Company in Longmont, Colorado. Nitro clocks in at a 6.00% ABV, with an 88% score from Beer Advocate.

Want a beer to throw you for a loop? Drink Left Hand’s milk stout. I mean, what a bizarre beer. You’re talking about a stout here, so you get the usual thick, dark nature of a stout, with the hints of chocolate and coffee that you expect from such a beer – but then you also get an unusual sweetness and “feel” to the beer like you would get from milk. Now, that makes sense, because this beer ACTUALLY HAS MILK IN IT.
This is not an everyday drinker. That said, I’d go back to it. I enjoyed it. It’s just… it’s curious, is all.

Image credit: dailybeerreview.com

The Tenth Beer of Christmas – SweetWater 420 Pale Ale

It’s the tenth day of Christmas, and today’s beer is 420 Extra Pale Ale, from the SweetWater Brewing Company in Atlanta, Georgia. 420 clocks in at a 5.40% ABV, with an 83% score from Beer Advocate.

Okay, I’ll admit it. The first time I drank this beer, it was because its name amused me. About that name, however, the gentlemen who founded SweetWater claim that it has nothing to do with certain cultural connotations regarding a certain herb of genus cannabis, but rather something to do with the beer’s specific gravity.
I call BS.
Anyway. This beer is super easy to drink. It’s smooth, it’s got a very light body, and it tastes good too. All those things tend to be a problem, because like with every other beer they make (see: the Festive Ale), the folks at SweetWater have jacked up 420′s ABV to at least a percentage point above what comparable beers are at. As such, it is very easy to get rather intoxicated off of 420 and start saying things like, “I know the answers to the universe, brah!”
Wait. That might be the other 420.

Image credit: brewyorkcity.wordpress.com