After completely schooling me at NCAA Football 2006 on the PS2, my brother made the horrible mistake of trying to teach me to play his favorite card game, Cribbage. (Note, please, that my brother was playing the mighty Georgia Bulldogs, a team boasting two recent Heisman Trophy candidates and a National Championship, and he had given me the lowly Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets, a team that couldn't find its ass with three hands and a sliderule. In the first quarter, I tried 4 passes: 3 went to receivers that I DID NOT throw to -- seriously, pressing triangle and watching the ball sail to the R1 or circle receiver gets really, really old very, very fast. Apparently the computer decided that my pressing the triangle button only constituted a suggestion -- and were not caught. The 4th pass was intercepted. I did not attempt another pass until the 4th quarter, when I went an entire drive calling ONLY Hail Marys, 4 of 5 of which were completed, resulting in my only touchdown of the game. In a fit of pique, I ran my linebacker into the offensive line before every future attempted play, preventing my brother from ever running a play again because the game was not programmed to prevent me from repeating the gambit as a real referee would do by ejecting players or ultimately declaring my team forfeit. So, to summarize, NCAA Football 2006, like all the Madden games on which its physics and rules are based, sucks balls.)

Now where was I? Oh, yes. The so-called "game" of Cribbage.

Cribbage, it should be noted, was apparently the invention of a seventeenth century poet named Sir John Suckling. After making up a shitload of completely inane and nonsensical rules, he reportedly passed marked decks out to the English nobility and traveled the country ripping them off for a small fortune. Though at first hearing, that anecdote may seem ridiculously implausible, once you realize that only a truly foolish individual would appreciate a completely random game such as Cribbage, you will recognize the likelihood of such a misadventure.

In case you can't tell, I think Cribbage sucks. But what else should I expect as the offspring of a poet named Suckling?

If you've never played Cribbage, I can sum it up thusly:

1. The Deal: The dealer deals everyone 6 cards and then everyone throws 2 of those 6 away.
2. The Play: Take turns turning over the 4 cards that you kept. Every time you turn over a card, yell out a number and then score yourself anywhere between 0 and 12 points.
3. The Show: Once you all have turned over all 4 of your cards, reveal how many ways you can combine the cards that you turned over plus the top card revealed from the remaining deck to total 15 points or just create some pattern that you find pleasing to your eye. Then give yourself anywhere between 0 and 29 points.
4. The Crib: Now the dealer gets to look at all the cards that were thrown away and repeat step 3.

I'd like to say that there is some sense to the game, but there simply isn't. A player is rewarded for reaching an odd-numbered 15 points or having pairs which can never add to an odd number. Triples are scored as multiple pairs but runs of cards are scored by the number of cards in a run, thereby rewarding a player holding a three-of-a-kind but comparatively punishing a player for having a much rarer Royal Flush. Playing a run is worth more points than having a run in your hand. You get a point for playing a card that prevents other people from playing, unless the added total of the cards played equals 31, in which case you get 2 points instead. Rhyme? Reason? No, not with Cribbage.

When my brother revealed a Jack of Clubs and with a chuckle said, "I get a point because this card is the same suit as the card that is on top of the deck," I was done playing.

There is a Star Trek episode titled "A Piece of the Action" in which Kirk tries to trick aliens who look and act like Al Capone's gang by luring them into a card game called Fizzbin. As one of my favorite episodes, I've seen Fizzbin played many, many times. Since Kirk's rules for Fizzbin change based on times of the day or days of the week, I always chuckled at the gullibility of the gangster trying to learn the game. Now the poor gangster seems that much more the sap to me; Fizzbin probably sounded like a likely game to him because he was probably a Cribbage player.

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I've been watching a lot of Star Trek, and I've decided 2 things:

1. Leonard Nimoy is spectacular.

We all know him as Mr. Spock, a distinguished role among many on TV and movies. He is also an accomplished director of both media. Even more astonishing, he is a singer with nearly a dozen albums to his credit. ("The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins" gets all of the glory, but if you've never heard Nimoy sing "If I Had a Hammer," you haven't lived. It brings me to tears every time I hear it.) And I've just recently discovered that he is a photographer specializing in nude female photographs. Damn, Leonard, do you have to make all of the rest of us look like such spectacularly lazy bastards?

2. Captain Picard is a shitty captain.

Sure, he strikes a distinctive pose, all regal and bald, but he has no idea what his ship or his crew are ever capable of. When confronted with any new situation, he is as confused as an old man presented with a new children's cereal box. Worse still, after he acquires even a little information about his new situation, he jumps to some immediate, outlandish solution that could only possibly be correct on a syndicated science fiction television show. (Better to be lucky than good, eh, Jean-Luc?)

To disguise his foolhardy blustering, many Picard defenders point out that Picard is simply a more calm and rational man than his forebearer (the great and mighty Captain Kirk). This could hardly be further from the truth. To jump to a faulty conclusion at the drop of his last hair is neither rational nor commendable. Picard's outrageous temper tantrums, seen frequently in outbursts against his crew (especially including that impetuous young Ensign Crusher) but rarely discussed, are further evidence of his instability and inability to lead. The fact that the crew follows the old man (who leads from the rear *tsk, tsk, tsk*) demonstrates only that they are just as sick of him and desperate for escape from his tyranny as I am.

At least he's still better than Captain Janeway.

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