Shatner Rules Read Free

father found it too much to print on a business card.
    Â 
    Lisa Lampanelli declared, “I’ve read your writing; it sucks out loud. Your next project should be a suicide note.”
    I’ll write
Suicide Note
after I write the book
I Slept with Lisa Lampanelli
.
    Â 
    Nichelle “Lieutenant Uhura” Nichols from
Star Trek
, with whom I shared network television’s first interracial kiss, this time invited me to kiss her “black ass”!
    Sorry, Nichelle. If I’m going to put my lips on something that bitter and black, I would like a teaspoon of sugar and a side of biscotti.
    Â 
    Finally, George Takei declared, “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!”
    Well, I went home with my wife that night. I did, however, see George walking around later with a bridle and a bouquet of roses, so who knows what happened?

George and I have had our ups and downs over the years. And I must say, he frightened me a little that evening. When he bellowed the “horse you rode in on” line, he had a scary glint in his eyes. It was either madness, the result of cataract surgery (in which case, George, I’m sorry I didn’t send a get-well card), or evidence that he has finally been replaced by a replicant. A replicant programmed to “Hate Shatner!” The vitriol that spewed out of George’s mouth was terrifying; he has overwhelming rage at me. He has, for many years, been at a heightened state of Shatnerphobia.
    After three hours—three long, agonizing hours—it was my turn at the microphone. I would get the final say after a long evening of me (and my horse) being drilled unmercifully about my acting, my hair, my weight, my acting, my hair, and my weight. And my scrotum.
    I would need a big opening, a huge joke, and one that announced that
William Shatner is here, and he’s not going to take it anymore.
So I opened with . . . “How’s the hair?”
    Whew. The laugh was huge, and the laughs kept coming. I cut all my roasters off at the knees with a variety of lacerating jibes and withering bon mots, eventually building to “Who the hell
are
you people? Do you know who I am?
I’m William Tiberius Shatner!
”
    I gave it as good as I got it, and everyone got theirs. Even the horses
they
rode in on!
    Soon it was over. As the advertisers exclaimed, “The Shat hit the fans.” I wondered if my “yes” should maybe have been a “no,” or even a “NOOOO!!!!”
    â€œThe Comedy Central Roast of William Shatner” was one of that network’s highest rated programs, and it was eventually nominated for an Emmy for Outstanding Variety, Music, or Comedy Special. (We lost to a Tony Bennett concert special. I wonder how many jokes were made about
his
hair?) Most important, the show introduced me to many new young fans.
    What I learned most of all from “The Comedy Central Roast of William Shatner” is that people have some very definite ideas and feelings about this William Shatner character. He’s larger than life, he’s omnipresent, he’s a narcissist, his acting and hair and singing talents are questionable at best, he’s a shill, he’s a comedy, he’s a tragedy, his scrotum sags with age, he speaks . . . very . . . strange . . . ly.
    How do I handle all that?
RULE: If You’re Gonna Be William Shatner, You’ll Need a Lot of Scrotum.

CHAPTER 2
RULE: To Be Shatner, You Must Know Shatner
    T he jokes at the roast were great, but a tad misinformed. If you’re going to joke about William Shatner you should at least know some very basic facts about William Shatner.
    Â 
    1. I was born on March 22, 1931. And if you were able to quickly Itranslate that number into the correct Star Date, I would like you to put this book down and go get yourself some sunshine.
    2. I was born in Montreal in a neighborhood called Cote Saint-Luc. It’s pronounced