Why should I watch Mr. Nimoy dress up as some alien, when I can spend the evening at home reading a book length ballad about the search for meaning in earthly existence?
If I went to see the movie, I would have spent ten dollars or something only to see a few minutes of Mr. Nimoy in some weird time paradox, that inevitably some Trekkie will get bent out of shape about. But I spent two dollars for this book, and I can voyage beyond any star field and galaxy with this book.
Why? Because reading is cool!
Actually...this book is pretty much tripe. Yet, some people love tripe and other offal. I don't quite know if I am one of those people. This orange book is what it is--a book length piece of sometimes rhyming literature written by a celebrity. I still would take it over most any pop-autobiography out on the market today.
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