You can control the weather with a satellite? Really?

The film: Superman III, starring Christopher Reeve and Richard Pryor.
What happened: Gus Gorman (Richard Pryor), is a computer whiz tasked by his boss with ruining Colombia's coffee crop with excessive rain. Gus commandeers a satellite and causes a hurricane to pour down on Colombia's coffee fields. Superman shows up in time to dissipate the hurricane and dry out the crops.
Why it makes no sense: What exactly is it that the satellite does to cause rain? Does it shoot lasers at the clouds? Does it drop moisture on the clouds? The science on this particular fiction makes about as much sense as that in Weird Science, but at least Weird Science doesn't pretend to give plausible scientific explanations for its fantastic events. But the Superman films try to sometimes: for example, the "dense molecular structure" of Kryptonians such as Kal-El and Zod which give them superhuman strength when they are on a planet illuminated by a yellow sun. Therefore, in Superman III, it's not too much to ask for some halfway plausible explanation of how a satellite orbiting the Earth far above its atmosphere could have any influence on its weather.
And even if we accept the notion that a satellite can change the weather in a controllable way in a specific part of the world, doesn't Colombia have other crops which the United States would want destroyed by any means available?

Oppressing American women in Saudi Arabia

The writers of the JAG episode "Head to Toe" had their hearts in the right place, but I wonder how aware they are of the excessive power Saudis wield on the United States. Tough the episode, which first aired in 2002, has a disclaimer at the beginning that it's about fictional events, it deals with a real-life Department of Defense regulation which requires female servicemembers to cover themselves almost completely in accordance with Islamic principles when off base. In the story, Harm and Mac defend Lt. Stefanie Donato (Lana Parrilla), who had the temerity to drive a car and show up at a restaurant in Riyadh with her face exposed. Her point that her uniform would be acceptable attire in Brooklyn is countered with the fact that she's in Saudi Arabia. In the end, she is spared from court martial but ordered not to complain any further on the issue. The episode ends with text stating that in January 2002 the DoD rescinded the requirement that women cover themselves up when off base in Saudi Arabia, but kept the requirement that they be escorted by men and they don't drive.

But why did women have to put up with that regulation, in place since 1995? It is mentioned in the episode that Saudi Arabia is an important U. S. ally in the Middle East. What the episode does not mention at all is how powerful Saudi interests have affected America on American soil. When Michael Moore showed up with cameras at the Saudi embassy in Washington, he was shooshed away by the Secret Service. George W. Bush, an honorary Saudi, must have been an excellent choice of U. S. President as far as the Saudis were concerned. So, if a Saudi eccentric were to recruit a bunch of Saudis to destroy an American landmark, he'd be quite safe from American retaliation. Hopefully that will never happen.

Will real Russians talk like that?

In a new special feature for the Star Trek Genesis trilogy, actor Walter Koenig complains that the self-proclaimed experts on the Internet consider the accent for his character (Pavel Chekhov) to be not only overdone but also unrealistic. (See "Pavel Chekhov's Screen Moments" in Disc 3 of the new set, the one for Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home). Those nitpickers claim to have Russian friends who don't talk one bit like Chekhov. The problem is that those nitpickers have temporarily forgotten that Star Trek takes place in the future. A lot can happen to a language in forty years, not to mention 300 years. However, we're not going to let Walter Koenig off that easy. After we identify and distance ourselves from our attachment to the present, you'll see that there are still many nits to be had with this topic.

Let's stay in the present for a while, though. Where does a Russian learn English? There are classes in Moscow, I'm sure, but the disadvantage would be that there's little use for English beyond the classroom. London is perhaps the closest option for immersion learning of the English language. (Alaska is almost twice as far from Moscow as London is, though it is possible for our Russian to come from a place that is much closer to Alaska). Much of Canada and the lower 48 States are also present viable options for a Russian to learn English by immersion.

And let's face it, English is a difficult language to learn after childhood, it really requires immersion in a place where it is spoken for all every day necessities. Those of us who were born to an English-speaking family take for granted our skill making sense of all those letter combinations that sound one way in one context and a completely different way in a context that's only slightly different! Of course we also find learning other languages difficult. Russian uses a completely different alphabet, and Japanese uses four different sets of characters, one of which contains over 4,000 characters! If only there was a way we could just talk to anyone regardless of their language, with some magical device automatically taking care of translating what we say and what is said to us so that everyone understands the whole conversation.

As it happens, precisely such a device exists in the fictional universe inhabited by the Star Trek characters! It's called the universal translator. You don't have to believe that such a device could possibly be constructed in real life to accept it while watching Star Trek. So why exactly does Chekhov have to learn English to serve in Starfleet? I don't suppose they made Spock learn English either. Well, maybe Chekhov wanted to. By the time Chekhov joined Starfleet, the universal translator was true and tested technology. The very first episode of Star Trek: Enterprise shows an universal translator quickly getting up to speed in its understanding of the Klingon language. One would think that Earth's known languages would be piece of cake for the device. Since Leonard Nimoy does not put on a Vulcan accent for Spock, Walter Koenig seems to have very little reason to put on a Russian accent, even if it turns out that in the 23rd Century Russians who learn English really do talk like that.

There is one Chekhov moment in the new Star Trek film that still rings false for me, even though the rest of the audience laughed: Chekhov (now played by Anton Yelchin, supposedly a "real Russian") enters his voice authorization code for the Enterprise but the computer is confused because he says "Weektor" instead of "Victor." Maybe the authorization code is in English. But if the computer knows enough to recognize Chekhov's voice as that belonging to an authorized user, shouldn't it also know about Chekhov's linguistic oddities?

(A little side note on Koenig and Yelchin: according to the IMDb, both actors have spent the vast majority of their lives in America).

Star Trek money nits

I had previously expressed my strong objections to the Nokia product placement in the latest Star Trek film and wondered if Kirk's legal guardians would be getting a bill in the mail. Going to see the film again, more issues about money in the future were raised in my mind. The first time I saw the film, Uhura's mention of a drink called a "Cardassian sunrise" raised my eyebrows. But what do you make of the dialogue after Uhura (Zoe Saldana) places her order, when Kirk (Chris Pine) is trying to get with her?

KIRK: Her drinks are on me.
UHURA: Her drinks are on her.

How much do you think a "Budweiser Classic" costs in the 23rd Century? But more importantly, where is Uhura's purse? Or does she just put her thumbprint on some kind of pad to cause a debit to her account? Money is not supposed to exist. If Gillian (Catherine Hicks) saying "Don't tell me you don't use money in the 23rd Century" and Kirk (William Shatner) replying "Well, we don't" in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home is not sufficient confirmation (given the much-hyped "alternate reality" of this new film), consider Tom Paris (Robert McNeil) telling Tuvok (Tim Russ) that Fort Knox was turned into a museum in the 22nd Century (in the Star Trek: Voyager episode "Dark Frontier"). Even if Paris and Tuvok don't wind up serving aboard Voyager in the 24th Century because of Nero's incursion into the 23rd Century, money should still have ceased to exist on Earth by Kirk's time. (And by the way, does Tuvok still exist in the new "alternate reality"? I didn't see Spock saving any black Vulcans from the temple before it was destroyed.)

When Kirk shows up in a motorcycle to take the shuttle to Starfleet Academy, a man compliments Kirk's wheels, to which Kirk says "It's yours" and tosses him the keys. Is bravado enough to transfer vehicle property in the 23rd Century, or will Kirk need to follow up later with some kind of deed transfer? Have replicators been invented yet? When Kirk went to the motorcycle showroom, did he just say, "Hey, give me a bike"? Well, maybe. Someone who enjoys building motorcycles would probably make more than he or she needs for his or her own transportation. At least it does seem that a starship requires so much time and labor to build that not just anyone can have one.

Earlier in the movie, what do you make of Kirk's uncle or stepfather yelling at him on the phone to not scratch the car up because it's an antique? If humans aren't consumed by the acquisition of things, shouldn't Kirk's uncle have had the decency to turn the car over to a museum?