Value Attrition

My mom used to watch the original Star Trek in syndicated repeats, back when I was a little kid. I detested the program because of the grating sound of the “starship interior”, which was like a never-ending loop of whistly ping noises (to denote space technology of the future). The show was essentially a soap opera, in a 1960’s sci-fi setting.

Naively, I thought that Mom enjoyed Star Trek because it was more thoughtful and imaginative than, say, General Hospital, or even the creaking Gothic potboiler Dark Shadows. I was practically obsessed with astronomy and NASA’s space program, so I presumed that my mother’s affection for Star Trek indicated common interest over which we could bond.

Not quite. Mom was all gooey over Star Trek because she liked looking at William Shatner. She could’ve probably told you the name of the Enterprise, and the primary crew manifest. But as far as any “lore” that might have existed for the original series, my mother didn’t seem to give a shit. She was all about Captain James Tiberius Kirk putting the moves on space ladies.

When The Next Generation started up in the late 1980’s, Mom wasn’t interested, despite there being articles in TV Guide about how female viewers had their choice between the bald-pated and erudite Jean-Luc Picard, and the bearded, roguish Commander Riker (his facial hair came slightly after, to make him less Kirk-like). Even though my dad and I weren’t that interested, there were three women to choose from for the lads; mature redhead Dr. Beverly Crusher, exotic and doe-eyed brunette Deanna Troi, and holy-shit-this-blonde-looks-great-in-a-skintight-uniform Tasha Yar.

True confessions time: I was halfway into ST:TNG briefly, until Denise Crosby’s character was horrifically suffocated to death by some kind of “tar monster”, and I stopped tuning in for it. I loathe fucked-up, disturbing deaths in fantasy TV shows, even more so if they’re motivated by pernicious backstage politics. Especially if it’s a woman. Hey thanks a lot, I tuned in for some sci-fi escapism and fun, and I got fetishistic deathplay of an attractive character whose exploits I’d followed for a significant time. Right before bedtime, too! Perfect time to jack everybody’s emotions around.

That’s just over 350 words about the early Star Trek franchise. Unless you know what the concept of the series is, you’ll get no information from the preceding paragraphs. The original pitch back in the mid-1960’s was “Wagon Train in space”. Quick quiz: What is Wagon Train?

Yeah. I’m guessing you’ve never seen a single episode, if you’ve even heard of it. My point is, when the original Star Trek TV show aired (and for some time afterward), no one cared about the backstory. All that mattered was the cast, and how popular they were (or weren’t) with the viewing public. Everything else was just window dressing.

Sometime when I was in eighth grade, I was visiting a buddy’s house, and he took me into a relative’s room to show me a prized possession of the family, when was secreted under some folded clothes in the top drawer of a dresser. What I surmised would be pornography (this kid was a classic ’80s teen pornoholic, back when a gigantic skin-mag collection was an indicator of healthy hormones and not of a latent rapist) turned out to be some sort of thick, official-looking, painstakingly-typed “Federation Handbook“, held together with those little shiny brass fasteners.

Inside it were pages and pages of blueprints and diagrams of starships, phasers, official uniforms and medals, you name it. I probably got to glimpse it for less than a minute before we had to skedaddle, because the document’s rightful owner was making his way up the hallway. This was probably almost forty years ago, and I’ll never forget how real that book looked, even though it was completely “low tech”, like a science convention brochure from the 1970’s. It was a prized, hidden possession of someone who had real love for a TV show that hadn’t been new for over a decade.

You can’t buy, or otherwise manufacture that kind of love. Hollywood knows this now. And if Hollywood can’t buy or manufacture something, then they purposely ruin it, while gaslighting the public into thinking they’re improving it.

It used to be as simple as screen resolution; during the government’s “hi-def TV incentive”, 20th-century video suddenly looked like crap, making it easy to overblow the upgrade’s necessity. Then Hollywood decided it was too hard to build on existing properties and lore, and settled on “reboots”, i.e. moronic, inferior remakes of beloved media. After all, the Enterprise show underperformed (even with a female Spock sporting surgically inflated lips and tits), so clearly it was time to wipe the slate clean after four decades of world-building.

I have a small fortune in carded Playmates toys from The Next Generation and Star Trek, safely ensconced in my storage unit. They are currently worth pennies on the dollar, despite being in pristine condition. This is a sore spot, but I also have dozens of Star Wars figures from 1995 to 1999, all mint on card, collecting dust. I more or less gave up trying to auction them off a couple years back, after almost four years of constant relisting on eBay.

No one wants them.

Meanwhile, any time I offer a Transformer up for auction, it sells. Unless it’s missing pieces, or if I’m asking too much because I don’t really want to part with any more toys that I actually love.

On the surface, the difference is as simple as comparing an “action” figurine to a two-toys-in-one object that requires more skill and brainpower to enjoy. Star Wars and Trek action figures don’t even have articulated knees and elbows (not the basic 3¾ inchers, anyway); they are basically miniature dolls. Transformers are like secret puzzle boxes, and their engineering and design have more or less sky-rocketed in sophistication over the past two decades. Their “replay value” is intrinsic and built-in.

Don’t believe me? Okay. Next time you’re in mixed company, bring out either a Star Wars figure or a Transformer from the last ten years, and put it on the coffee table. Tell me which one intrigues, and which one invites suspicious glances.

Now, I grant you, there is a crucial fact I’m leaving out, in that action figures often license the likeness of a real person, whereas a Transformer toy is a made-up robot originating from cartoons of the ’80s or ’90s. However, this is key to understanding how badly Hollywood has fucked up, and how much they just don’t get why fans love the things they love.

See, a Transformer turns from one toy into another; if not, it’s not really a “Transformer”. The success of a Star Wars or Star Trek toy depends entirely on the public’s affection for that specific character, portrayed by (in most cases) a specific human being. 21st-century Lucasfilm, in their boundless incompetence and short-sightedness, assumed that people just bought Star Wars toys to collect them, out of some pedantic desire for completeness.

They never for a second thought that the reason Star Wars figures used to sell is because they were fun treats for kids, who were excited about these rare space-opera movies that only came out three years apart over the span of nearly a decade. They never understood that there was a 16-year gap between Return of the Jedi and The Phantom Menace, during which anticipation organically developed using nothing but a slow-drip of “Extended Universe” material (and the unfairly-maligned Special Editions every bitter asshole likes to complain about. For real, God damn you for bitching every step of the way).

By the way, that “Extended Universe”, the product of hundreds of talented creators with unwavering passion and love for the franchise, was nullified by Disney upon acquiring the IP. Anything Disney might have to pay royalties upon is legally null and void. (This is why we don’t get Yoda; we get a cooing “baby” version that resembles a sick hairless Mogwai.)

That includes all the mint-on-card Shadows of the Empire figures I have, featuring an amazing cast of characters that now exist as placeholders of an intellectual void. Worthless. Mission accomplished, Mickey. You rat fuck.

In 1980, every kid on the schoolyard had a Star Wars figure in his pocket. At home, half the kids I knew had a Millennium Falcon, or an X-Wing. Kids didn’t even make up stories, or adventures; they mostly ran around with a toy spacecraft in their hands, making swooshing noises, pretending to fly through outer space.

These kids grew into adults who had kids of their own, to whom they passed on their fondness for things Star Wars. In most cases, their kids played with toys based on the post-1997 universe, including the Prequels. Family bonding happened thanks to the Star Wars movies and toys (video games, too, great ones).

Disney assumed all that good shit was baked into the property when they bought it from Lucas in 2012. When they learned that it not only wasn’t, but that they couldn’t even buy that shit, they did what generations of spoiled brats and spiteful moms have done.

Ruin everything, embarrass themselves, and alienate everyone who ever gave a crap.

Disney saw Hasbro making toys of every conceivable character from the Star Wars universe, and took that as hard evidence that anything with the logo on it would sell. That is how Disney operates. The company has the artistic integrity and respect for quality of a German cockroach. They’ve spent the last decade gobbling up every legacy property they can, and churning out movies and sequels for which no one asked, desperately chasing lightning in a bottle. There are now two worthless Tron sequels, which are only defended by spiteful trolls and ignorant zoomers, and which follow a movie that was a flop in 1982.

Do you see the difference in quality between a Disney flop in 1982, and one in 2025? Or rather, do you honestly think anyone will be still talking about the soundtrack or aesthetic of TRON Ares forty-three years from now?

Shit, I don’t think anyone will remember TRON Ares in forty-three days. Until I actually pirated the wretched thing¹ and saw it for myself, I never knew that Nine Inch Nails did the soundtrack. Did you?

In 1989, Tim Burton’s Batman came out. I personally didn’t care for it, and yet I still had a Batman action figure. I even had a model kit of the ’89 Batmobile, which my dad and I put together. We both thought it looked super cool in the movie, despite that film’s notable flaws. I even had the VHS. It was the right time and place for a Batman movie; everyone was bonding through fun, and rediscovering childhood thrills. In stores, the Batman and Joker action figures were usually sold out, but you could still get a “Bob the Goon” henchman toy, in the general likeness of beloved character actor Tracey Walter. Goon Bobs were in surplus, and it still wasn’t looked upon as a fault of the movie itself, or a criticism of its fandom.

Imagine if you will, that the Warner Bros. studio behaved in 1990 the way movie studios have behaved since around 2010.

Suddenly the public is being gaslit on social media that Goon Bob from Batman was originally played by a “trans person of color”, which caused backlash from the racist homophobic incels who buy Batman comic books. The poor innocent multi-billion dollar studio, out of fear of violent reprisal, had no choice but to recast Goon Bob as a loathsome, disgusting white male, but this still didn’t satisfy the racist “transphobic” gay-bashing pieces of utter shit who read Batman comics and probably also molest retarded children, so the Goon Bob action figures sat on the shelf and it’s totally your fault.

Here are some of the lowlights of the 21st century entertainment experience, in no particular order:

• It’s not that female and ethnic characters in current-day movies are written by brainwashed unionized diversity hires with less talent than a broken toilet. It’s because we’re all racist and misogynistic.
• It’s not that astroturfed ivory-tower imbeciles like Brie Larson are devoid of charisma and as appealing as a splintered stripper pole. It’s because we’re all woman-hating white male incels who hate women because we’re not gay.
• It’s not that Billie Eilish and Lady Gaga are ugly, stupid and spoiled no-talent brats, who amplify globalist agendas like they’re designer brands. It’s because we’re all misogynistic white male incels who want to put women in cages or something.
• It’s not that Joe Rogan and Elon Musk chagrined everyone who defended them by selling out to elite pedophiles through sex trafficker and comedy enthusiast Jeffery Epstein. It’s because we’re too stupid to understand that children have total agency over their decisions when enough piles of money are involved. Or something.
• It’s not that ultra-rich comedians like Bill Burr and Dave Chappelle (and Louis CK and Whitney Cummings and many others) were egregiously treasonous and frankly stupid to take a big payday performing for a regime that literally owns slaves and murders dissident reporters. No, it’s because we’re all “Islamophobes” who voted for Trump and do stupid shit like act proud to be American.

Meanwhile; name one successful “DEI” initiative in the entertainment industry. One.

It doesn’t exist.

How’s Star Wars doing, compared to 30 years ago?
It’s dead.
How’s the Indiana Jones franchise doing, compared to just 15 years ago?
It’s dead.
How is the Star Trek franchise doing, compared to just 15 years ago?
It’s dead (Jim).
How is the venerable “Marvel Cinematic Universe” doing, compared to just 15 years ago?
It’s dead.
How is the comic book industry itself doing, compared to just 10 years ago?
It’s dead.²
How is anything Disney doing, compared to any time before this exact second?
IT IS DEAD.

Jesus tap-dancing Christ on a fucking rubber crutch.

I started writing this article sometime in September of 2025. I wasted the majority of my life writing about things that are worthless. Movies, TV shows, music; none of it is worth a fraction of a goddamn. It’s all shit. If you want to lead a happy life, you should excise all things Hollywood and mainstream entertainment from your life. You should look at social media like the AIDS virus. You should laugh at people who believe that Bill Burr and Whitney Cummings are above retard intelligence. The idea that anyone would pay to see “Lady Gaga” should make you nearly die laughing. If you have children, and they express interest in Billie Eilish, popular music, or stand-up comedy, you should humiliate them in front of a crowd until they wise up. Literally, laugh at your kids wanting to go to Disney World as though they’re grown adults pissing in their pants.

You know who loves Disney? Pedophiles. They can’t get enough of that shit. You wanna hang out with monsters who fuck little kids (or fantasize about it), look for the Disney label and you’re all set.

I don’t have anything left to say. If you can’t see the willful attrition of everything you once valued by now, you never will. Go suck Soros’s dick and be happy, faggot. Go throw things at police and get killed. Go collect the names of victims that the media cherry-picks for you and be a big virtue-signaling star on Facebook, cocksucker. Make up some new “isms” and “ists” to gaslight people so they stop speaking to you and hate you forever. Talk about how awesome Charlie Kirk’s assassination was some more, or about how much you hate Trump. It’s all the same to you anyway, you’re just following your master’s orders. Tomorrow it’ll be someone else who the media told you was a meanie that only an idiot straight white male wouldn’t hate.

The rest of us have known what’s up for too long to sit and stay quiet anymore.

1. NOTE: I have a review of Tron Ares in the works, which will only appear on my Patreon, behind a paywall. This is because it is something I know people will want to read, so I’m not giving it away for free. You get this much for free: as much of an absolute piece of dog shit that Tron Ares is, it is Citizen Kane compared to the worthless and mind-bogglingly retarded Tron Legacy. ↩︎
2. Let’s not insult the entirety of Japan by suggesting their manga deserves to be in any way associated with American comics. ↩︎