We run a helpful little bit called "My, What a Busy Week" in the paper. Every week. Probably you've seen it. It's a list of things you should do during the week. It's helpful!

Except for next week's. You should not read it. I was assigned to write about Kronos Quartet (because I wasn't at the meeting where such things are decided; I don't actually like them—they do not sing songs about victory) and I shamefully neglected to make a single reference to the mighty Klingon Empire in the 70 or words I was allotted.

Kronos, you see, is an accepted spelling and pronunciation of the Klingon homeworld, whose rich, fierce soil has been made pure over many centuries thanks to the blood of countless fallen warriors. But I did not point that out, when I submitted my piece to Copy Chief Courtney Ferguson. I did not celebrate the many feats of the ancestors.

And now I am without honor.

I am of no more regard than an empty bottle of blood wine.

My name shall be no more.

And, like certain shameful others at this soft-bellied publication, I shall submit to discommendation and a life of recrimination and emptiness for myself and all my descendants for seven generations to come.

After the jump, why I don't like Klingons anymore! In no particular order.

1. Gowron. Why did someone not kill that cursed politician far sooner? He has the reedy voice of a stage actor, not a soldier.

2. Christopher Lloyd.

3. Christopher Plummer. He was too good for his brow ridges and quoted... Shakespeare.

4. Worf. When his crewmates had the impertinence to inquire about the swarthy, ridgeless Klingons during their time travel mission to K-7, he should have killed them.

5. Klingonese. Hey, nerds! Stop!