November 2001
London, Ontario

A Cheslian enthusiast, who works in a small vanity press, recently read an unsolicited manuscript. Entitled, Put Not Thy Trust In Rod, it purported to be the story of the writer's collaboration with Gene Roddenberry, famed creator of the Star Trek franchise of television shows. The author declared that he had run away from his family, members of a small, but intense sect of Norwegian Sauna Floggers. In his foreword he claimed that he had avoided public notoriety his whole life for fear of the cult member's far-reaching vengeance, and thus had allowed Roddenberry to enjoy the reputation of being the imaginative visionary behind the original Star Trek series and its successful spin-offs. A desire to feather his retirement, however, had caused him to pen this manuscript in hopes of setting the story straight and acquiring enough money to establish himself in a region where "he would see the blonde haired, blue eyed bastards coming", such as Nigeria or downtown Detroit. Intrigued by a reference to Emily Chesley within the body of the manuscript, our Chesleyan mate attempted to contact the author only to learn of his untimely, and recent, death in what the local police said was accidental death after a sado-machosist-onanist orgy gone awry. The victim was a "sick fuck", the officer in charge of the case confided, his flagellated body surrounded by broken birch wood whips and heat damaged sauna stones.

The extract of interest to Chesleyans follows:

"When we were conceiving of the idea of the captain for the proposed Star Trek series, Gene had a specific ideal in mind for the character. He had long been taken with C.S. Forster's classic maritime hero, Horatio Hornblower. Hornblower's shrewd professionalism, his trustworthy demenour and air of calm command coupled with private vulnerabilities that made him oh so human appealed to Gene as characteristics of the perfect captain to pilot the Enterprise through her galactic adventures. I agreed with Gene up to a point, but argued that the Enterprise captain couldn't keep all his demons private and still be a compelling television character. He lacked an essential dimension for success in the television world of the 1960s. While a captain based upon the Hornblower model would inspire loyalty among the crew, he would have little human interaction with them or his officers, or the alien peoples he would come in contact with. To humanize the captain, I insisted it was essential to give him a sensual side.

Gene asked what I had in mind. I told him of a dimly remembered character from a science-fiction story I'd read as a youth. The hero was a handsome Norwegian space traveler whose high-powered sexual magnetism caused an entire planet of otherworldly, sexually repressed, beauties to succumb to his charms after he crash-landed on their planet. Gene looked quizzically at me for a minute and then asked if I remembered the author of the story. Emily Chesley, I replied. I added that I'd always meant to read more of her stories but my parents and the church elders had disapproved of her writing. Gene got really excited. He smiled and told me that he remembered the same story from his youth. "So we'd both read Chesley", he exclaimed, "What a bond!" With a huge smile Gene slapped his thighs and laughed, saying that the Chesleyan dimension was just what the Enterprise captain needed. "Make him look and behave like the type of guy that after an hour's contact an alien bitch would be ripping down his pants to get at his cosmic joy stick. That'll play with those network sons-of-bitches."

End of extract.

-- "Scholarship" by The Member Formely Known as Panties