STFs   I like Star Trek.   Christ knows that I, like millions of other closet Star Trek fans, do everything possible to avoid admitting this in public. Why is this? Simple. The last thing that any closet Star Trek fans wants is to hear some life-less social reject go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on about the intricate details of a Vulcan's penchant for squeezing rodentia between their gluteals prior to their 7.958305834649 year mating cycle.   I call these people Star Trek Fucks (STFs)   Ask any STF and they can tell you how often a Tribble sheds its hair during the Malglavian Lunar cycle. STFs can tell you why the Arbitronians insist that their grogcakes must be splashed with dragar urine every third revolution of the Holy Quarternatic Sol. STFs sit up at night analyzing the sperm counts of all actors that have worn chartreuse headwear during odd-numbered episodes of the third season of Deep Space Nine. STFs make one wish that he or she could travel back in time, jam a Twirling Romulan Cyto-Bargatronic-What-The-Fuck-Ever up Gene Roddenberry's ass repeatedly until he either dies or agrees to pursuing a career in the promising field of ball-hair toupees.   If you haven't noticed yet, I harbor a somewhat mild dislike for STFs. Anyway...   I find it unsettling that I should have to keep such a harmless interest to myself as if I were a drug rehab counselor trying to hide the fact that he or she is a fifteen-plus-line-a-day cokehead. It is depressing that I have to sock my interests away for fear that one of these losers will corner me and talk to me before I get a chance to charge the plate glass window and dive thirty nine stories to my blissful demise.   While there are many examples of how STFs have negatively impacted the lives of all of those that surround them, one positive thing has come from the STF phenomenon.   ------------------------   Boxes.   Boxes are useful.   I spend much of my time making boxes. I enjoy putting things in boxes and having them stay there. I make boxes for food, boxes for music, boxes for stray stuff and, of course, boxes for people.   Yes, believe it or not, all of the people in my life live in a mental box that I have constructed for them and their "type."   Don't get me wrong, I know that it seems cynical that I go around categorizing people and forcing them into boxes but all of my boxes are open and the contents can jump out any time they want to. In fact, I enjoy it when people surprise me and insist on either moving to another box or even having a box all to themselves.   Unfortunately, most of the people in my life jump into their little container early on and are happy to stay there.   Rude? maybe, but don't lie to yourself, everyone does it. Everyone has a metaphorical cardboard container for things like "Jerks, suck-Ups, and Backstabbers." It is almost always good to know that certain people are handily and safely categorized so as to know how to deal with them ahead of time. For instance, one would never tell someone in the "Jerks, suck-Ups, and Backstabbers" box that he is about to make vastly profitable improvements to the company's sales systems because those in the "Jerks, suck-Ups, and Backstabbers" box will make you pay for your mistake. They will steal or squash your idea and then eventually claim it as their own.   One nice thing about my filing system is that people can occupy two, three, or more categories without a problem. A person in the "Can't Spell Three Syllable Words" box can simultaneously live in the "Funny When Drunk" and "Kills Small Animals" boxes without a problem. And while I claim I like it when people defy definition and cross over to a new category, the truth is that this event is always unsettling and sometimes even dangerous. Some crossover examples that have startled me...   I once had someone in the "Good Friends" box jump over into the "Claims to Have Been a Hit-Man" box. Not pretty. Honestly I had to make a new box for this category. Anyone who already has this box pre-labeled has some serious issues.   Another time I had "Good Friend Who is a Guy" admit that he belonged in the "People Terminally In Love With Frank" container. An uneasy situation, to say the least. He now lives in the "Good Friend Who is a Guy That Needs to Find Himself a Boyfriend" box.   There is the inevitable "Girlfriend" that insists on migrating over to "Girlfriend That Porks Everyone on the Planet Except Frank" box. The "Girlfriend That Porks Everyone on the Planet Except Frank" box has more occupants in it than I care to admit.   I think that I am, in relative terms, fairly open minded and I allow everyone the opportunity to meander around wherever they want to. Well almost everyone.   As with all systems, there are exceptions to the rules and my major exception is this: everyone but Star Trek Fucks get the chance to move to other categories. Once an STF, always an STF.   ------------------------   The nice thing about the "STFs" box is that this handy little label is open to my own interpretation. While most people would only put the standard line of people into this box, I find it a handy little container for all sorts of obsessive habits. Each occupant of this box is an STF regardless of his or her obsession. For each of these STFs I have slapped on a name tag that tells me what activity it is that they insist on STF-ing to death.   I do this because Other Fucks exhibit the same idiotic obsession for their hobbies and interests that STFs do with the green leg hairs of the South Seven Wotombajombees. Find a Humphrey Bogart lunatic that can name the contents of the all of the lunches eaten by the extras on the set of Key Largo during the fifteenth day of shooting and, boom, you've got yourself a Bogart Star Trek Fuck.   The sad thing about this is that I needed to create a place to put all of the obsessive retards that insist on forcing me to keep even the smallest of my enjoyments to myself. Over the years, I have found myself the victim of any number of STF activities. It has gotten so that I don't even talk about television shows or movies or music around people because I might run into the one STF that has an interest in such things. Simply put, STFs ruin everything they touch and, as you can see, things they haven't touched. It is a sad day when obsessed losers can stop conversations cold by their simple existence.   I fear the day that I will be obligated to kill myself just because some STF has gone on and on about the fact that they, too, enjoy inhaling air...   "Have you ever noticed breathing? I like breathing. Breathing makes it so easy to, well, you know, breathe! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Have you ever stopped breathing? Lots of famous people have stopped breathing. Most of them are dead now. Too bad, I liked a lot of them. Did you know that Tom Cruise will probably stop breathing some day? I saw him in a movie once. Did you know that movies don't breathe? I once wrote a paper on movies that don't breathe and the professor said..."   Here is an extrememly brief list of some of the STF things that I have seen...   Star Trek Fuck Bowling Star Trek Fuck Roller Skating Star Trek Fuck Video Gaming Star Trek Fuck Sports Card Collecting Star Trek Fuck Ayn Rand Fans Star Trek Fuck MST3Kers   And...   Star Trek Fuck Perot Voters   STFs are the intellectual equivalent of the ebola virus, they ruin everything that they touch and infect at near light speed. Thanks to Gene Roddenberry, we now have a phenomenon that promises to annoy generations and generations of people for centuries to come.   Thanks, Gene...   Then again, it may have been the Perot Voters that started all of this crap...   Copyright 2009 by Frank Emsley