This morning I was reading an MSN TV piece about picking TV’s best campy classics, nodding my head at the selections, though many of them I’d barely seen. Dukes of Hazzard? Yep. MacGyver? You betcha. The double Hasslehoff whammy of Knight Rider and Baywatch? Oh, hell yes.

But then I came to the end of the “article” and my face fell, my eyebrows knitting over the bridge of my nose in consternation. Star Trek? Star Trek?! Are they out of their freaking minds?!!

But then I was forced to step back and view it objectively as William Shatner’s visage peered suavely yet pensively out at me and I read the words, “Then, of course, there was William Shatner, a man whose glorious overacting and inflated machismo pre-dated Hasselhoff by several decades.”

And I thought, “Damned fucking straight, and don’t you forget it, Hasselhoff!”

The I slowly closed the page, nodding again. Because, much as it pains me to admit this, and much as I adore Star Trek, its camp factor could be inordinately high at times. I mean, Spock’s Brain alone has enough camp for the entire Star Trek franchise.

I’m surprised TJ Hooker didn’t make the list. Damned punks.

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