Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo noticed this afternoon the release across teh innertoobs of teh first pics of the newest incarnation of  Doctor Who (the 12th, if you’re keeping track), a fellah named Peter Capaldi (of whom I know nothing).  Here he is, ladies and gentlemen,  your latest incarnation of the baddest of teh Time Lords:

Doktor

I’ve two things to say about this.  (Well, 2 ½.  The ½ is that the fact that Doctor Who has been on teevee since 1963 is, in itself,  pretty amazing, and I raise a glass in tribute to the Beeb.)

The first thing is that I was a big fan of the Doctor back in the day.  Although I didn’t see much of him, I tipped my hat to Jon Pertwee, who I liked anyway.  (He had a bit-part in one of Robbo’s favorite movies, A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum.)  However, my “main” or “true” Doctor was, and is always going to be, Tom Baker.  In teh late 70’s of my misspent yoot, teh local PBS affiliate ran the Baker series at (IIRC) 10:00 on Saturday nights, and I very rarely missed them.

I also liked Peter Davidson, Baker’s successor,  mostly because I had enjoyed his portrayal of Tristan Farnon in All Creatures Great And Small, but you know?  Davidson’s manifestation occurred in the early 80’s, right about the time girls ceased to be a theoretical issue and instead became a distinct possibility.  So I rayther lost interest in teh franchise about then.

Despite the fact that some people, both on the Innertoobs and in Real Life, seem to think that ol’ Robbo is some kind of SciFi geek, the truth is that I’m really not.  Thinking on this, it occurs to me that what interest I have in the genre is really a kind of memento to the impressions and joys of my childhood and adolescence:  Bill Shatner is, and always will be, James Tiberius Kirk.  Dirk Benedict is, and always will be, Starbuck.  June Lockhart is, and always will be, Maureen Robinson.   And so on.   The upgrades and next generations and reboots and what-all really have no attraction for me because, truth be told,  Grown Up Robbo has no real interest in teh genre as a whole.

Of course, I’m not so old that I can’t say with perfect sincerity that Han Shot First!

So I suppose the first point I’m trying to make is that all of these things, while impinging on cherished childhood memories, don’t make much of an impression on what St. Paul would have called the adult Robbo thinking like an adult Robbo.

Oh, and the second thing? That Capaldi’s pic reminds me of nothing so much as an aged version of George Oscar (“G.O.B.”) Bluth, Jr.’s, magic shtick:

I know, I know.  Heresy.  Send in the Daleks………

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