Marginalia Americana 3.1: An Ode to The Rock and Angelina Jolie

One endearing feature of the original, New-Agey Star Trek is the racial diversity of its cast. That was surely a part of the creator's vision for a high-minded galactic civilization that had long since risen above Earth's racial, indeed interspecies, prejudices (hence Mr. Spock). Subsequent sci-fi films and TV serials have for the most part followed this assumption, if only because it is presumably hard to conceive that racial barriers will persist into future centuries, indeed millennia.

But if they are right, and color of skin, the shape of your epicanthic folds become as unimportant (or important) as the dimple in your chin, the color of your eyes, then is it not strange to assume that the defining racial features will remain unchanged and distinct, and mongoloids will be mongoloids, blacks will be blacks, and blondes are still a gentleman's best friends? Why so few… mongrels?

Better, then, is it not, to imagine
In the image of the Rock and Angelina Jolie
Our great-grandsons and great-granddaughters to the nth degree,
Tanned and ripped from the day of birth,
Full of sexual energy, filled with mirth
Yet never full of oneself; people we all hope to befriend,
If not to sleep with in the end?

Imagine.