I’m not sure I’ve talked about this deep dark secret—though I know I’ve talked about novelizations—but there was also a period where I read a lot of sci-fi. Not just sci-fi, which was mostly Arthur C. Clarke until 3001 made me give up on it as a genre to read pretty much altogether (“serious” sci-fi), but I read a lot of the Star Trek novels. A lot of them. So many of them I can’t even remember how many I read. From the list on wikipedia, it looks like I stopped some time around September 1994, which makes sense. Star Trek: Generations came out, had my support opening night, that support went away on the second theatrical viewing with a fellow Trekkie friend. I was done with Star Trek for a while as a brand. Thank goodness for the DVD releases a few years later—and everyone at the video store sort of realizing Wrath of Khan is a freaking brilliant movie around the same time—but anyway. Not the point of the post, just the lead-in. Star Trek novels, “Star Trek” TV, most sci-fi novels, sci-fi comics—until a certain point, they tried to take themselves seriously. There was logic to how planets were named, the “history of the future,” whatever. Then something called Star Wars: Episode I: The Phantom Menace happened and stupid, juvenile naming practices became the norm. I’m still somewhat convinced George Lucas went with Geonosis as a planet name so he could mock the fanboys and critics who praised him. I give Lucas a lot of credit for American Graffiti, always will. There’s not much benefit of the doubt left to give him, but I still muster some. It bothers me, the stupid mainstreaming of sci-fi. Sure, the genre hasn’t had many exceptional high points—after 1982, anyway, but 1982 was a big year for sci-fi, there could have been another. And there won’t be. Because Geonosis is acceptable, because the freaking giant battle cruiser in Star Trek 2: Into Darkness is acceptable. The vermisiltude is down the toilet.