I’m a Doctor, Not a Magician

After all the lovely hype about the upcoming Star Trek movie, and being confined home because of bad pollen allergy, I re-watched Abrams’ Star Trek, which I find brilliant except for the stupid bits such as the swollen hands sequence.

I am pretty much convinced Abrams, Orci and Kutzman did such a good Star Trek movie just for me. Remember Vonnegut’s tip about writing to please just once person, well, that was obviously me, lucky girl. Abrams couldn’t sleep at night because I never came to like Lost, and so he clearly wanted to compensate.

Anyway, while I was waiting for the infamous swollen hands scene to end, I noticed that McCoy orders a shot of cortisone for Kirk. Cortisone, no less. Stardate 2233.04, warp speed, the transporter, and we’re still stuck with cortisone. It’s sad not even an alternate reality Leonard McCoy from Starfleet would be able to help me through Spring more than a present-day National Health Doctor.

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