During my Kirk vs. Picard article, I made a statement about breasts not being magical. Many of our straight male readers, being the Breast-Defenders they are, contacted me right away to explain how wrong I was. They were emphatic and persistent and eloquent. Surprisingly enough, it put men and the topic of breasts together in close quarters and yet it did not reduce any of these men to gibbering, drooling, cat-calling simpletons.
Breasts, they said, are totally magical. And a few of them repeatedly demanded that I retract my statement.
Beneath our society, a war has been raging. Two factions have drawn an invisible line and stand on either side, defending their honor — nay, the honor of the leaders their philosophy is based upon. It is a debate so fierce that the very mention of it will turn the most rational adult into an angry, spewing wreck, and every level-headed nerd into, well, an angry nerd.
And those are the worst kinds of nerd.
I’m talking about a debate that has plagued the civility of our world for more than two decades: Who is the best captain of the USS Enterprise?