"Khaaaaaann!!!"

AKA "Post Cinematic Couch Disorder 2:This Time it's Personal."

That's right: once again our household was striken by a virulent celluloid contagion, and we were powerless to resist watching. And this time the carrier was non other than "Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan." And once again, it was a movie we've seen perhaps a hundred times (collectively, that is. How big of geeks do you think we are?). At least this time it was on HBO and not peppered with commercials.

Ah, yes...I can see it all now as if it were yesterday (which it was). The Moby Dick references, the battle of wills (not to mention wigs) between Kirk and Khan, the close-ups of the mind-controlling worms crawling in and out of the giant paper mache' ears, Ricardo Montalban sporting a wonderbra, Kirk's son from "Square Pegs" and, of course, the selfless sacrifice and subsequent death of Mr. Spock, guaranteed to bring Mrs. Blogfoot to tears every time.

What's that, Mr. Hardass? You say you don't cry during "Wrath of Khan?" Not even a single tear when they pack Spock's body into a giant Ray-Ban case (in actuality a photon torpedo shell) and Scotty plays "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes? Bullshit. You cry.