ASK DR. SCHUND (C)1991 Alan M. Schwartz Dr. Schund, is it true what they say about Star Trek, The Lost Episode? The original Star Trek television pilot was condemned as being "too cerebral." The bridge crew of the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701, was composed of a Black female officer possessing lushly abundant gazongas and the briefest uniform this side of the Chicken Ranch; an Asian helmsman and a Russian weaponry officer; an emotionless Vulcan with the Devil's ears who wet panties across America every week; a bleached-blond yeoman whose beehive hairdo was stacked so high that Texas women stood aghast; and a psychotic ham of a captain who compulsively bared his hairless barrel chest, started barroom brawls, and dipped his wick across the entire breadth of the universe. Add to this a doctor whose prognosis was the inevitable "He's dead, Jim" and an engineer who routinely bent the laws of physics while roasting his weenies in the warp drive. The threatened cancellation of the series after two years brought more than 400,000 letters of protest, most of which were literate and some even profound. Having no use for such an audience, the National Broadcasting Corporation killed Star Trek in its third year. The series went into rerun syndication and minted money. A bad movie was made, which spilled a gold bullion trail all the way to the bank. A good movie, an OK movie, and a good movie were made, also remarkably profitable. Hollywood reverted to kind, the fifth movie being a self-indulgent stinker (forgivable) that was more than a bit short on the gross (unforgivable). The series was reborn as a new generation politically correct in its genderless eunichoid (and still spit infinitive-possessing) opening tickler, and replete with astoundingly expert special effects. The new Captain was big, bold, bald, and a competent actor, allowing character development to intrude upon the rest of his staff. The ship's Counselor was an Eastern European bon-bon whose remarkably well-defined camel toes probably carried the series until its writers caught fire. A sixth movie was made. Rumors circulated that the aging staff of the original Enterprise would be more fittingly assigned to intravenous feeding in the Old Actor's Home than starring in a lusty action adventure sequel. Dr. Schund has learned of the scandal which devastated the filming of the sixth Star Trek film. The particular scene in question was written to wipe from Terran minds the obsequious caterwauling that was a rather ancient Uhura performing a fan dance in the fifth movie. Geriatrics were to be succeeded by warm flesh - aided by makeup and special effects - and hot revenue, the most special effect of them all! Here is the scene which you will never see. Envision, if you will, Uhura with her hands pinned high above her head, her ankles hopelessly strapped to a spreader bar, her body stretched to taut rigidity, her uniform sundered and discarded to generously reveal her delectables, her chastity protected by only an infinitesimal white leather Brazilian microthong (with the StarFleet emblem) blazing against the glinting highlights of her lightly oiled ebony flesh, confronted by a prickly-tongued Lyrian Flesh Flogger well prepared to torture her into mind-shattering ecstasy, determined to have her disclose the secret galactic locations of the vital quadrotriticale warehouses. ("Pretty good so far, eh?" Dr. Schund) As it goes about its work, soprano whimperings giving way to protracted guttural moans as the microthong is finally approached, breached, and discarded... Is that the working end of a phaser we see peeking from within the fur-rimmed muscular cavern of her innermost desires? The plot development and resolution could have been worked more or less identically with Captain Kirk. In fact, he insisted upon it. While filming was in progress Magic Johnson shyly and quietly broke the news across national TV and newspapers, "People" magazine, and "Sports Illustrated," that he had gotten a dose, AIDS no less, but spin doctors and lucrative corporate sponsorships were easing his psychological devastation. The phaser suddenly had no place from which to appear. It certainly could no longer go THERE, and Kirk's mouth was ruled out because the phaser's backblast stripped the toupee right off William Shatner's bald pate, even after it was secured with epoxy cement. The sixth Star Trek film has finally been completed, after endless rewrites and a lot of acrimony. We will now view the first heterosexual Vulcan mind meld, held between Mr. Spock (once every seven years, like clockwork!) and a bimbette. Said female Vulcan possesses wickedly curved and pointed ears, and has been just a little naughty with her razor. That's show biz!