The order in which you place discs in your CD player is important. For instance, it is very jarring to go from the end of Guster's Keep It Together, "I Hope Tomorrow Is Like Today," to Fizzy Banger's eight-second rock-out at the beginning of Short Music For Short People.

Butterfly
I'm a social butterfly. Tuesday, I went to Leopold Bros. and Conor's for Pelsky's birthday (the big deuce-deuce). Of course, his jackass friend Malis (pronounced: malice) made him smoke a couple cigs, causing Pelsky to sick up in the Leopold's bathroom. Yesterday, I was up in GB at the US23 drive-in with Skeeter. Her unabashed enthusiasm made Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life sufferable, much to my embarrassment. I'm praying for rain tonight because I really don't want to go to work.

Today's just not my day. Nothing's gone wrong, but I can tell that I'm just not going to get the hang of today; so, why bother trying.

Right now, Stargate SG-1 is a better show than Enterprise. I hate to say that, but it's true, and I'm not sure that's ever going to change. Because the folks behind Enterprise are more the fuckos responsible for Voyager than the geniuses behind Deep Space Nine. They just don't seem to get it, and so, like Voyager, we're just going to stumble from meaningless encounter to meaningless encounter. It's called a theme, guys, you might want to get one.

Meanwhile, on Stargate, I hope we and the Asgard can figure out a way to beat Anubis.

Tonight, I watched Punch-Drunk Love. The Not-So-Bald Mountain has billed this movie as being better than the Second Coming. I found it to be an utter waste of my time. I did not think it was possible for a movie to feature the great Luis Guzman and still be so mind-numbingly boring. Thus, I make the following declaration: I will put out my own eyes before ever seeing another Paul Thomas Anderson movie.

"Stacy's mom has got it going on
She's all I want and I've waited for so long
Stacy can't you see
You're just not the girl for me
I know it might be wrong
But I'm in love with Stacy's mom."
(Fountains of Wayne, "Stacy's Mom" from Welcome Interstate Managers)

Sardine called the apartment over the weekend; I called her back tonight. I have no idea what, if anything, is going on. I might as just accept the fact that, for all practical intents and purposes, I'm a eunuch.

All of a sudden, I really really want to see American Wedding. More than either Pirates of the Caribbean or Bad Boys II. Cripes, I'm not a eunuch, I'm a pussy.

Best thing I've written during an AIM conversation in a while: "Hi, I'm Mike. Um, I'm not really sure if AA is the right group for me, but I really wish I was an alcoholic. Do you folks have any tips?"

Also, in a Genus III showdown yesterday (Saturday night), I bested the Professor 3 games to 2 in Trivial Pursuit. On Friday, I beat Skeeter in single elimination. "I am so smart. S-M-R-T."

Sam, our cat, keeps whining that he wants to be petted, but then he keeps walking out of arm's reach. Dumbass.

Mom and I saw Seabiscuit this afternoon. I recommend it highly. Also, Elizabeth Banks is beautiful, sort of like a non-evil Parker.

Stay On Target, Stay On Target
Okay, we just did cake and presents for my birthday (which was yesterday). Dad got me a gaggle of his paranoid anti-Muslim books. What the fuck? First of all, my birthday is not the proper time to be spreading your Nazi philosophy, you goose-stepping prick, not that there is a "proper time" to preach hate. More importantly, was this shit on the list? FUCK NO. How many times do we have to go over this? I make a birthday list FOR A REASON. I make a list because I want the things that are on the damned list. This is not rocket science. Please give me the things that are on the list, please do not give me things that are not on the list. The things you give me which are not on the list may be nice (though not in this case), but I made the list expressly because I cannot have the Sun and the Moon and the stars; so, I've had to prioritize. Thus, the ever-loving list of previous mention. This is a simple fucking concept we're dealing with here, folks.

Weirdest thing. When I was a kid, I watched a lot of MacGyver. I loved that show. Richard Dean Anderson was the man. However, after plowing through all of Stargate SG-1 this summer, he's no longer MacGyver. I just caught five minutes of a MacGyver episode, and he looked freakin' ridiculous. That awful '80s mullet, the lack of gray in said mullet, the non-wrinkliness of his face. Wow. MacGyver is like G.I. Joe, it was great at the time, but if you go back and watch it you've horrified. Strange how MacGyver is no longer MacGyver, now he's Jack O'Neill.

Ever notice how many of my posts deal with TV? Man, I love watching TV.

Last night, there was a large fire in Ann Arbor. The plume of smoke first appeared shortly prior to seven o'clock and continued to rise until the dark of night obscured it. As midnight descended upon this pretentious little burg, an acrid cloud slithered through the streets and alleyways. A haze gathered around streetlights; the smoke was diffused enough not to inhibit breathing, but thick enough to cause mild burning in the eyes. But it was the haze around the streetlights that most caught my attention. Yes, friends, that's right, last night in Ann Arbor things got a little murky.

I am left wondering if the fire was in any way related to some kind of transport disaster.

On a completely unrelated note, thanks, Dylan.

It's a very Reel Big Fish day:
"I'm a big fucking star, oh yeah!"

If you haven't heard Why Do They Rock So Hard?, for fuck's sake, man, you haven't lived.

Dude, seriously, check out the Teen Titans website. It's rad.

It's a very Reel Big Fish day:
"I think somebody loved me once
I think somebody loved me once
I think somebody loved me once
But I cannot remember why"

The last two mornings I have been woken up by these workmen doing some loud thing or another to the landscaping in front of the building. They arrive at 7am and park their truck directly below my window. Oddly, it really isn't that upsetting. At least it gets the day started, if somewhat earlier than I'd deigned appropriate the previous night.

Dinner with Skeeter on Friday night and then cake and presents with Mom and Dad on Saturday. It'll be the first time I've seen Her Majesty all summer; certainly tragic, but I suppose I've just gotten used to her not being around. Such is the way of the modern world. I don't know why, but we leave our dearest friends behind to make "a life" amid strangers. I don't want to go to Boston, but I cannot stay here and we do not yet have the wherewithal to found the Blue Tree Whacking House; so, happy trails, my beloved home and fellows, until we meet again.

I'm also discovering that nobody's on AIM in the middle of the day. Yeah, like you people have jobs.

Wilson
My sister dated a gentleman named, spookily enough, Michael Patrick O'Shea* for all of law school. I only met the guy once, at their graduation. Is that weird? Never Girl (does that work?) thought so. She could hardly believe that Evil Lisa had never brought him home in all that time. Huh, how about that? A of all, Her Evilness doesn't come home much herself. B of all, if you liked a guy would you want him to meet Rick and Joyce, especially Rick? C of all, all of this seemed perfectly normal to me. I mean, it wasn't like she was going to marry the guy. Wilsons: we may not seem normal, but we're every more bizarre underneath.

*This is spooky because my name is Michael Patrick Wilson, dimtwit.

Question of the Day: When did Malaya become Malaysia?

Talked to Lindsay tonight. She seemed a little pissed that I hadn't called her in so long. Um, hello, you've got my number, too. Sheesh. Also, toying with the idea of giving her a blog nickname: Never Girl.

Read Roman Dirge's Lenore. By the way, with the subtitle it's Lenore: The Cute Little Dead Girl. Hee hee.

The Legions
The 3rd Infantry Division is officially the whiniest unit in the United States Army. Jesus H. Christ in a fucking chicken basket, guys, you're in the cotton-picking Army! The President has made it very clear he intends to fight a "War on Terror," with occasional tangents like the conquest of Iraq; where in that do you think it says you will be sitting in your barracks at home? We don't need the Army to police the streets, we have law enforcement and internal security forces to do that. The job of the Army is to go kick ass and take names in the rest of the world. "We've been here for four months, and away from home for ten." Ooo, ten months in Kuwait and then Iraq, what tough guys; compared to all the guys who were drafted in December 1941 and didn't see home again until late 1945 or early 1946, the boys of the 3rd ID, as it is so affectionately known in the media, are on a brief excursion. It's an all-volunteer army, boys and girls, you went out of your way to get where you are.

Basically, my position is the old soldiers' axiom: ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die.

On Bald Mountain
Founded in 1915 by Oscar Seagle, the Seagle Music Colony is seated on top of a heavily wooded hill (known as "the Hill") in pleasant Schroon Lake, New York. The campus is composed of about ten buildings, housing a theater/rehearsal hall, a dining hall/lounge/rehearsal room, and living accomodations for the eighteen staff and thirty "students," known as young artists. The important thing is that the entire place is filled with bugs. Gigantic fucking biting flies and more mosquitos than you can shake a stick at. It's atrocious. The Mountain assured me that after a week you don't even notice them anymore; bullroar, I say.

David's roommate in "The Nod" (part of the three joined bungalows known as Wynkin, Blynkin, and Nod) is a quirky gentleman named Seth. He is perfectly suited to the Mountain. Neither of them would get on very well with all kinds of other people, and yet they are so cosmically perfect for one another. It's amazing. I wasn't sure about him at first, but he won me over most immediately. He's exactly my kind of dork; I sincerely hope he and David remain in touch.

The Not-So-Bald Mountain's self-proclaimed "twuest friend" is Tawny, a dazzling and charming young lady. No, that does not do her justice. Miss Tawny is a most magnificent creature, a true lady among commoners, a goddess among mortals. I fell in love with her upon first glance; in a world of silly girls, this is a princess. Quite sensibly, the Mountain fell for her right away, but learning that she had a boyfriend, he has directed his affections to another, the shy beauty Rebecca. Apparently, she's "confused." Gah, fer the love of Pete, if you don't want to go out with the lad, just say so. Also, there is his Figaro co-star, the vivacious Lydia. Methinks all the world's a soap opera on the Hill.

My beloved brother is having a ball at Seagle; for his sake, I almost wish the program was longer than just two months. I miss him terribly, but I'm genuinely glad he's so happy.

On All Things Teen Titans
Did anybody else see (and/or tape) the premiere of Teen Titans on Cartoon Network? Man, it was wicked sweet. Starfire the friendly, naive alien and Raven the brooding, world-weary Goth girl; hee hee, what fun! If we can just get new episodes of Justice League, I'll be happy as a pig in slop.

On the other hand, I was not thrilled with the first issue of the new (entirely different than the TV show) Teen Titans comic; the characters are very different than they were at the end of Young Justice, much to their detriment. (Wonder Girl feels like a freak? Where the frell did that come from?)

Still, Teen Titans (TV) was fab. The theme song rules! "Teen Titans!" (in artificially high-pited Japanese voice)

Soon to come, "On Blad Mountain," my report of this past weekend's visit to Schroon Lake, New York (the Adirondacks, near Vermont), home of the Seagle Music Colony and, for the summer, the Not-So-Bald Mountain. His fellow opera weirdos are awesome.

On the phone with Sardine and I'm in love.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Or, an apple a day gets you expelled from Paradise post haste.

Yum.
Yesterday, Lifeguard Girl and I went to Stucci's for ice cream. (Yes, I got Superman.) I've always had a little crush on her, but sweet fancy Moses, there are not words in the English language to describe what a vision of beauty she was last night; given the right cultural context, I would have launched a thousand ships for her.

Posers
Margaret remains Margaret Dykehouse. Parker and Mary remain Parker and Mary Peppard a.k.a. Mary Cannibal.

In Other News
The thought occured to me the other day: what if I'm over Lindsay? Pragmatism would dictate such a course of action, as she a) has rejected me, b) lives two thousand (soon to be three thousand) miles away, and c) has been dating the same chode for eleven months. I could very well be much better off "without" her. My primary evidence is that I keep finding little excuses not to call her, but that could also be a simple exercise in ego, ergo, I want to force her to call me. Hmm. Certainly, no resolution will be forthcoming tonight.

Lately, I can't get enough apple sauce. Also, plain bagels, uncooked with nothing on them. Yes, yes, I know, dry white toast....

Ben Folds's Rockin' the Suburbs. Undeniably wussy, but undeniably good. If I don't get Keep It Together for my birthday, I'm going out to the store to buy it the next day. Same thing with Welcome Interstate Managers.

Posers
Last names may be changed. Which option is better, before or after?
Margaret Peppard or Margaret Dykehouse
Mary Seneca or Mary Peppard
Parker Seneca or Parker Peppard

Pete Winter, Kari Putterman, and Anya Kamenskaya remain their inimitable selves.

New ideas include: a story about Mary's daily attendance of Mass, "Merry Cannibals," and a story about the multi-layered web of lies that is Parker's life, "Blind. Stinking. Panic." Of course, before any of that I need to finish In Search of the Perfect Lesbian. Another new idea, "Whatever Happened to Red China?," but I haven't figured out if it's a Pete or Parker story yet.

Wilson
I keep waiting, searching for the perfect way to say this, but the end result is that I say nothing. No more waiting. Since 9/11, my dad had become a racist. He's a Nazi, only his Jews are Muslims. If asked directly, he denies hating all Muslims, but then launches into a tirade about how the Wahhabi sect - admittedly, a bunch of really bad guys - are secretly taking over every mosque in America. He claims not to hate all Muslims, but then he describes them as mindless tools of radical clerics. He believes it is only a matter of time before "the enemy within" tries to impose Taliban-style Islamist law (no music, mandatory beards, burqas, etc.) here in the U.S. I try to tell him the idea is absurd, that the Supreme Court just struck down a law that barred sodomy on purely moral grounds, that the people of Dearborn are not trying to take away my sister's right to leave the house unescorted by a close male relative, but he refuses to listen. My dad has always been an asshole, but at least he used to be smart. I tell him that his current beliefs are beneath a man of his intelligence, that a few years ago he would not have tolerated in his house the kind of hatred he now preaches, but he simply responds that now his eyes are open. He keeps our front door deadbolted because he thinks his persistant letters to the Flint Journal might someday make him a target for our local Muslim extremists. When President Bush repeats over and over again that we are not at war with Islam, my father scowls because he thinks we should be. Since 9/11, my father has become an unwitting accomplice of Osama bin Laden; both men see an inevitable "race war" between Christianity and Islam and are doing all they can to bring it about.

Until I was seventeen, I worshipped my father. There is a line from the movie Fight Club about our fathers being our models for God, and for the first part of my life this was largely true for me. Now my father is a Nazi. My father is everything he raised me to oppose, moreso now than ever before. I fear it is in lot of every Wilson to go mad in his old age. If this is so, it will be a mercy to die at sixty.

Extraordinary
This evening, Pelsky, his friend Dave, and I saw The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen; it was fantastic. It was everything an adventure movie should be. The additions of Tom Sawyer and Dorian Grey, neither of whom appears in the original comic book series, were brilliant, as were the modifications to the characters. The comic is written by Alan Moore, a man very much in love with the "sound" of his own voice and far more interested in historical accuracy and obscure trivia than in telling an entertaining yarn. The film's characters may not be quite as loyal to their literary roots as Moore's, but they were brilliantly brought to life by a remarkable cast.

Allan Quatermain, the great white hunter; Captain Nemo, master of the Nautilus; Mina Harker, unwilling bride of Dracula; Rodney Skinner, the invisible man; Dr. Henry Jekyll, alter ego of Mr. Edward Hyde; Agent Tom Sawyer, youthful rogue now an American spy; and Dorian Grey, immoral immortal. I cannot wait to see it again.

Hopeless Savages
You should be reading Jen Van Meter's Hopeless Savages. It is the brilliant chronicles of aging punks Dirk Hopeless (born David Sterling) and Nikki Savage and their children Rat (son), Arsenal (daughter), Twitch (son), and Zero (daughter). Thus far, there have been two miniseries, Hopeless Savages and Hopeless Savages: Ground Zero, with a third having just begun, Too Much Hopeless Savages.

Dirk Hopeless
Nikki Savage
Rat Bastard Hopeless-Savage
Arsenal Fierce Hopeless-Savage
Twitch Strummer Hopeless-Savage
Skank Zero Hopeless-Savage

I hope I have equal courage in naming my children. It must be remarked that I had never met a hyphonated name I liked before Hopeless-Savage.

Arsenal's boyflesh is Claude Shi, while Twitch's boyflesh is his brother, Henry Shi. Ground Zero is about Zero falling in love with and winning the heart of her boyflesh, Ginger Kincaid. At present, Rat does not have a girlflesh.

I wish I had a girlflesh.

Another day gone in the blink of an eye. Man, I didn't even have that much fun and the time still flew. Then again, every day is fun when you get to walk around as me; honestly, I don't understand how you people can stand being so incredibly not Mike Wilson.

The Future of Star Trek
I like Enterprise, but I cannot shake the feeling that the only way for Star Trek to survive and thrive is to move forward; set a century before Jim Kirk's days of pot-bellied glory, Enterprise is inherently a step backwards, at the same time bold and conservative.

Between the first season of Star Trek: The Next Generation and last year's film Star Trek: Nemesis, we have seen fifteen consecutive years of continuity in the 24th century. The Next Generation, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and, alas, Star Trek: Voyager (give me the money to make Star Trek: Odyssey and I'll blow your fucking socks off!) comprise the "TNG era," the single most elaborate and rich period in the history of the future. It would be foolish and short-sighted to not take advantage of that rich legacy. The Next Generation began as a new epoch, the first time Star Trek had taken place beyond the confines of Jim Kirk's era and contemporaries; thus, one could make an argument that the way to properly go forward would be to advance to yet another epoch and once again start from scratch.

I think this would be a mistake. When it began, The Next Generation sucked assballs. The series pilot, "Encounter at Farpoint," is very possibly the worst two hours in the franchise's now 37-year history. The TNG era did not reach its height until a decade later with DS9, the greatest of all Treks. Taking advantage of the framework of the TNG era does not guarantee a quality show (exhibit A: fucking Voyager), but it does save you a great deal of work, allowing the creators more time to concentrate on developing intriguing, complex characters and compelling, multi-faceted situations.

Following this logic, the Bald Mountain and I have spawned three ideas, one or all of which I may develop as I have Odyssey. These are extremely basic concepts at the moment, easily identified as titles:
Star Trek: Dominion
Star Trek: New Tomorrow
Star Trek: Farthest Star

If you hate this facet of my blog, sucks to be you. Of course, if you don't like this kind of stuff to begin with, it already sucks to be you. Loser.

Wilson
On Saturday, to help take his mind off Grandma, Dad and I went to see Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines. During the incredibly annoying Survivor-themed theater etiquette presentation, we saw an image of an elephant. Dad turned to me and said, "You know, I agree with Mom (my mom). Whenever I see an elephant, I think of Lisa, and I just want them all to die."

In 1999, my sister travelled to Tanzania to visit her best friend, Natalie, in-country serving a tour with the Peace Corps. For reasons that will soon be apparent, I have never asked precisely what happened, but at some point they decided to go on a short safari. An elephant charged their vehicle and while both Lisa and their guide escaped unscathed, Natalie was killed.

I had no idea my parents hated elephants. I mean, sure, one almost killed Lisa, but it's never really seemed to me that she almost died. The very idea is preposterous. I wonder if Lisa hates elephants. Of course, I'll never ask; even I am not that insensitive. Should I hate elephants? Wow, I never knew that about my parents.

Rest in peace, Natalie, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

Holy Shit
They just stitched Dave's finger back together on TV. The ten year old boy in me thinks that is just the coolest thing ever. Man, Leno fans fucking suck.

Wilson
Priscilla Gray Wilson, my Grandma Wilson, died on Friday. We were digging around the sump pump at the time the news reached us and couldn't very well stop; work continued Saturday and Sunday until it was done. Some of you may remember her as the grandmother who was born in Imperial India, to an English governess and an American dentist. My Great-Granny Gray, may she rest in peace, was my closest foreign-born relative. Grandma Wilson was English enough that her four children forever called her Mum rather than Mom.

I'm not sure how my dad's taking it. He's not as angry and hostile as when Grandpa Wilson died in 1999, but I can't be certain as to whether that is a good or bad sign. Regarding Grandma, my regrets are legion; I should have gone down to Texas and spent a week with her. I wouldn't have enjoyed a minute of it, but I should have done it anyway. Damn me for leaving an old woman to die alone.

She's to be cremated; so, Dad and Aunt Meg have yet to decide what, if any, ceremony we will have in Austin. A gathering of Wilsons; angels and saints preserve us.

RETROACTIVELY MAKING STAR TREK: VOYAGER GOOD, Interlude
Before her death in season three's "The Joining," Lt. (j.g.) Tari Prix had been romantically involved with Lt. (j.g) Daniel Kim (on Odyssey, people get promoted, dammit). After the "birth" of Seventh Prix, Dan finds it impossible to feel for her as he had for Tari, but the two of them remain close friends. (Note: the same actress who played Tari Prix will, under the mask of a Praelor robot, play Seventh Prix, or at least provide the voice.)

Last night (Thursday night), the Professor and I saw Reel Big Fish in Pontiac, at Clutch Cargo's. The first ska show - and really, the first real show - I ever saw was Reel Big Fish in Pontiac, at Clutch Cargo's, in February of my sophomore year. How in God's name was that only four years ago? It seems as if I've lived my entire life in that span; I cannot remember a time when music and rock shows were not such a monumental part of my life. It seems as if I've retroactively revised all my memories. I never went to rock shows when I swam, but it seems as if I did, I'm sure. I must have.

I have lived and died in those four years and somehow yesterday felt like a last salute. Like the end of something great. But it can't be the end because this is the way it's always been and oh, God, I don't want to go to Boston because how can I drive to Pontiac for a show if I'm in Boston? And the only important thing in life is your friends, the people next to whom you skank in the pit and later stop for fuel at the T-Bell in Waterford, the one we always stop at. We always stop there, but I can never remember where it is.

I feel like the greatest thing I have ever known is dying.

In less high concept matters, the show itself was fucking amazing, obviously, because Reel Big Fish doesn't know how to put on a mediocre show. And, of course, I ran into Jason Coliadis, one-time member of Comeuppance and Murky Transport Disaster and for a time after I went off to college the Bald Mountain's best friend; I randomly see that kid everywhere.

Arsenal
In the English Premiership, my team is Arsenal. Yessir, the Gunner are my boys. Why? Because the Guy chose Man U as his side and I can't stand those wankers. Every proper lad knows the pitch at Highbury is the home of football.

I Seem to Have Acquired a Taste for Sardines
Today, Independence Day, I couldn't get Sardine off my mind. I think I may really like her. In any event, I have to call her next week, as soon as I get a chance. I was up to my elbows in sludge for large portions of the day; so, perhaps my mind just needed a pleasant thought upon which to fixate.

And now off to Grand Blanc, where I am commanded to be by mein vater; he needs help with one of the cars. If I'd known I was going to be back tonight, I don't think I would have gone home last weekend. Que sera sera. Still, huzzah! I get to go to Grand Blanc, the most extraordinary place on Earth! Home to all things Blue Tree Whacking, the legacy of both high school crews (GBMB and my droogs), Grand Blanc Swimming and Diving, Sardine's mom, the end of The Watergirl and Army Boy as a unit, and a thousand other wonders and horrors.

I hope to finish A Clockwork Orange this weekend and move on to Atlas Shrugged. Plus, the good ole U.S. of A. turns 227 on Friday! Happy birthday, baby!

You have to look to see it, but Grand Blanc really is like no other place on Earth.

Hey, on Weird Al's new album, Poodle Hat, does anybody know what's up with the song "Genius in France"? It's like eight and a half minutes long, five different songs-in-one, and contains everything ridiculous about the frogs. Is this Al's own brand of "patriotism," or did he just feel like making fun of France, entirely separate from the brauhaha over Iraq?

I made an Asian man happy!
Today, I'm wearing my Asian Man Records T-shirt. Asian Man is a tiny indie label based in California; Asian Man bands include MU330, Pot Shot, The Bruce Lee Band, the Blue Meanies, and Johnny Socko, et al. As I was strolling past the Law Quad, I passed an Asian man. He looked at my T-shirt, read it (it sez "Asian Man" in both English and Korean; I cannot tell you which he read), and smiled. I smiled back and we continued to walk in opposite directions. I totally made his day. A few years ago, I was wearing this same shirt to the immense amusement of my Poli Sci 428 prof, Prof. Ellis Joffe, one of the world's foremost experts on the People's Liberation Army, the PRC's military. Everybody loves Asian Man.

RETROACTIVELY MAKING STAR TREK: VOYAGER GOOD, Part XV
Dramatis Personae
If you died in "The Stars My Destination," you get a (deceased) after your name.
Lieutenant Commander Jorn Miraza, Executive Officer (deceased) - A Bolian male, Miraza was the first officer of the Ulysses; he was selected for the assignment by Captain McKenna, with whom he had previously served aboard the U.S.S. Serapis. He was killed when the Caretaker pulled the Ulysses into the Delta Quadrant.
Lieutenant Commander T'Sara, Chief Engineer (deceased) - A Vulcan female, T'Sara served as second officer before she was killed when the Caretaker pulled the Ulysses into the Delta Quadrant.
Doctor David Herrick, Chief Medical Officer (deceased) - A human male and the only doctor onboard, Dr. Herrick was killed when the Caretaker pulled the Ulysses into the Delta Quadrant.
Lieutenant (j.g.) Amara Stadi, Conn Officer (deceased) - A Betazoid female, Stadi caught the eyes of both Nick Locarno and Dan Kim before she was killed when the Caretaker pulled the Ulysses into the Delta Quadrant.
Lieutenant Joe Carey, Assistant Chief Engineer - A human male, Carey felt slighted when K'rena was made Chief Engineer despite the fact that he followed Lt. Cmdr. T'Sara in the pre-Delta Quadrant chain of command. He was killed by Cole after the failure of the mutiny ("The Mutiny, Part II").
Lieutenant (j.g.) Tari Prix, Astrophysics Dept. - A joined Trill female (previously referred to as Lenza Prix), Tari was romantically involved with Dan before her host body was mortally wounded, resulting in the "birth" of the robotic Seventh Prix ("The Joining").
Ensign Samantha Wildman, Communications Officer - A human female, Wildman was pregnant when the Caretaker pulled the Ulysses into the Delta Quadrant. She later gave birth to human/Ktarian hapa twins, Naomi and Noah, the first children born aboard the Ulysses (sometime near the end of the first season).
Ensign Shrev, Medical Officer - An Andorian female, Shrev was the only surviving nurse after the Caretaker pulled the Ulysses into the Delta Quadrant and was the first person to activate the Emergency Medical Hologram. She left the ship to take care of the dying Vidiian children, though she knew it meant she would never return to the Federation ("Children of the Phage").

Episode Guide
Season One
"The Laboratory" - Kes is captured, taken to a Vidiian laboratory, and experimented upon by Dereth, the physician who tortured her prior to her rescue in "The Stars My Destination." She is subjected to ghoulish experiments, as is Neelix once his rogue rescue attempt is easily thwarted. (from "Faces")

Season Two
"The Great Experiment" - Using a new type of dilithium crystals, K'rena attempts to duplicate the experiment for which the famous U.S.S. Excelsior was originally built: transwarp drive, travel infinitely faster than warp. However, when Nick flies a shuttle through the experimental transwarp barrier, there are some bizarre side effects. (K'rena will experiment with this engine again in season five's "Timeless.") ("Threshold")

"Deus Ex Machina" - The crew find themselves facing a series of perilous situations, each of which has an improbably convenient solution. Eventually they suspect someone is pulling the strings behind the scenes, but how did he capture the crew in the first place?

Season Three
"Elysian Fields" - Captain McKenna and Commander Torres die. The afterlife is not quite as they expected it to be: her father, also deceased, shows her how her crew is getting along just fine without her; his sister, whose death at the hands of the Cardassians drove him into the Maquis in the first place, blames him for not saving her. ("Coda")

"Time's Triumph" - Our heroes are in orbit of an M-class planet when a Krenim ship appears, damages the Ulysses with a chronoton torpedo, disappears into a temporal rift, and suddenly the planet below is a hostile world ruled by the Krenim. Isolated from the temporal changes by the radiation emitting from the torpedo (the same torpedo for which Kes was searching in "Before and After"), the crew must follow the Krenim back in time and save the planet before it is ever conquered. (from Star Trek: First Contact)

"Out of Time" - Benicio, K'rena, Dan, and Neelix are wearing their EVA suits and mining an asteroid when they are rocked by a temporal shockwave. Returning to the Ulysses, they find that they have been greatly accelerated, making everyone else seem as though they are standing still. Tracking down the source of the anomaly, the discover a Krenim research station in ruins, it's sole survivor ranting about his work's usefulness as a weapon against someone named Annorax, whom our heroes shall encounter in "The Year of Hell, Parts I and II." (What can I say? I love foreshadowing almost more than the foreshadowed events.)

Season Four
"The Infiltrator" - Princess Rafi enlists Captain McKenna to help her complete the mission she was on when her crew sacrificed themselves to save the Ulysses: rescue a Tehlyri soldier on a deep cover mission inside the Borg collective. So deep inside that the Tehlyri has been partially assimilated, just enough to deceive his fellow Borg while subconsciously gathering crucial intelligence. As Nick laments, "So, we're going near a Borg cube. On purpose. Great. Some days I just... love this job."

"The Emperor's Own" - Princess Rafi guides the Ulysses to the base of the Tehlyri 84th Regiment, the elite of the elite, known as the Emperor's Own. Some of her father's men, though, are more eager to take the fight to the enemy than their liege allows. Captain Mckenna and Princess Rafi must stop them before they can commit preemptive genocide.

Season Five
"The Martyrs" - In the wake of the defeat of the Tehlyri fleet above the Voth throneworld, some Tehlyri have decided extreme measures are needed to stop the Borg. The crew of the Ulysses must stop them from purposefully allowing innocent aliens to be assimilated as invasive sleeper agents, similar to what the crew of the Enterprise-D intended to do with Third of Five until he became Hugh. (from TNG's "I, Borg")

Six Years
On July 1, 1997, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland formally turned over to the People's Republic of China control of Hong Kong and the New Territories, collectively known as Hong Kong. During the waning days of the Qing Dynasty, the British Empire rung a series of territorial concessions out of the weakened Chinese Empire. Hong Kong was placed under British sovereignty in purpetuity; the New Territories were leased for a period of one hundred years. Yet, when the lease on the New Territories expired, the British were also forced to return Hong Kong itself. For while they did hold legal right to Hong Kong, the city received both its water and power from the soon-to-be Chinese-controlled New Territories; thus, sovereignty over the entire area was turned over to Beijing.

Today, the citizens of Hong Kong marched to protest a proposed national security law, which many fear will take away the unique rights Hong Kong enjoys under the "one country, two systems" arrangement. Essentially, this allows the people of Hong Kong to enjoy the same rights they did under British rule, at least in theory. For how much longer is anybody's guess.

The Great White North
Today is Canada Day (formerly Dominion Day), the anniversary of the day the United Kingdom united Upper Canada (Quebec) and Lower Canada (Ontario) into the Dominion of Canada. It's the closest thing the Canadians have to our Indepedence Day, since those pussies never fought for their independence; to this day, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II is Queen of Canada. Ha ha!