VULCANS IN ALABAMA
Terry Oglesby provides all sorts of info on the romantic history of Vulcan. Alas, not the home planet of Mr. Spock (where, presumably they don’t have romance, seeing how it’s illogical, although they do have Pon Far) but rather the World’s Largest Cast Iron Statue. I must say, it’s much more impressive than the second most important statue in Alabama, the Boll Weevil Monument in Enterprise, the “only monument in the world to a pest“. Indeed, for those of you studying for your SATs, remember this one: Vulcan Statue is to Boll Weevil Monument as Halle Berry is to Destiny Stahl.
The more astute among you will note that both involve Trek names–Vulcan and Enterprise. Maybe Gene Roddenberry deserves posthumous induction into the Axis of Weevil?
Gee, I don’t know. For all of Star Trek’s touchy-feely inclusiveness, I never seem to recall a big redneck cast member charging into an unknown situation yelling, “Hey y’all!! Watch this!!”*
I feel so, so…excluded.
However, if they would write me into the next movie in place of Data, and give me all sorts of mushy love scenes with Counselor Troi, I might consider it.
*Redneck’s famous last words.
Now, dang it, Troi’s married to that Riker feller. We can’t have you besmirtching the good name of Alabama with that kind of behavior!
McCoy did get more Southern later on, especially in the movies. I’m not sure why that was, come to think of it. But, no, I also don’t recall anyone asking the replicator for “Grits. Buttered. Hot.” Or even, “Tea. Sweet. Iced.”
Well, it’s not like we’d be related or nothin’! Sheesh! We’d have to just have an unfortunate firearms discharge of some sort–we could be hunting, and I could mistake Riker for a Talosian deer and after a suitable period of mourning, Troi could more right in to the double wide shuttlecraft. All perfectly legitimate.
As for the replicator, you never hear anyone call for barbecue, either. Or pecan pie.
The whole thing is very inhospitable to those of us who talk slow.
Good points all.
Of course, in the future, people from France have a British accent. So things aren’t entirely bad there.
The statue of Vulcan (currently undergoing repair) sits atop a mountain that separates the south end of Birmingham from the suburb town of Homewood (I used to live in an apartment along the ridge).
Vulcan is a blacksmith, and his statue wears the appropriate leather apron – and nothing else, leaving the fellow a bit, well, cheeky. He faces Birmingham. The lesser mortals presented with his nether regions refer to him as “Moon Over Homewood.”
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