<i>Dancing Barefoot</i> by Wil Wheaton

By now, you've probably realized that the real Wil Wheaton is a far cry from that interstellar boy scout Wesley Crusher he played on Star Drek: The Next Iteration. His Gary Buseyesque misadventures—pistol-whipping a cabin boy on the Star Trek/Mac users' cruise, kicking the ass of a certain purple dinosaur in a charity boxing match, and getting repeatedly tossed out of the Viper Room for drinking all the Sambuca in the house and beating Bill "Danger, Will Robinson!" Mumy around the head and shoulders with a mic stand while screaming, "RANGER TRAINING, MY LEFT NUT!!!"—have become legend. And, like all hard-drinking manly men—Ernest Hemingway, Henry Miller, Oscar Wilde, me—Wheaton has, somewhat inevitably, become a writer.

Running Barefoot is Wheaton's second book, composed of stories and anecdotes culled from his immensely popular Web site, WilWheaton.net, which has just passed Yahoo! on Alexa's Web rankings, and is expected to debut at $123/share at its IPO next month. But you're not gonna buy the book because Wheaton is some kinda geek celebrity: You're gonna buy it because it contains the knee-slapping tale of Spongebob Vega$pants, the complete saga of Wheaton's intense, decades-long personal relationship with his mentor, William F. Shatner. That's right: Shatner found the time to take the young Ensign Crusher under his wing, imparting to him not only the actor's craft, but also making him heir to his own particular brand of vocal stylings (everyone: "Oh, no. . . no. . . I'm. . . a. . . ROCKET man!"), and his mastery of the written word (remember the Tek series, anyone?).

Alas, with Running Barefoot, Wheaton has, much like Darth Vader, surpassed his master. I find it immensely difficult to type this next sentence but, well, Wil Wheaton is an infinitely better writer than Bill Shatner. He's also a better actor (contrast their early work : "Lardass's Revenge" versus "there's. . . a. . . man. . . on. . . the. . . wing!"). And, though Wheaton doesn't sing much since retiring after the Four Tenors tour, he does a pretty good job playing bass for his band, Dogstar.

So, pick up a copy of Running Barefoot. No gangly, shirtless Tiger Beat pinup now, Wheaton doesn't need to rely on exposing his tiny, pink boy-nipples to an audience of preteen girls for fame. Oh, no, no. He's got a word processor and he KNOWS HOW TO USE IT.

Got back issues of Tiger Beat? Write to editor@corporatemofo.com
BTW, all the people commenting that I got the title wrong might
want to check the top of this page. . .

Posted June 22, 2003 3:20 PM


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			Dancing Barefoot by Wil Wheaton by Ken Mondschein
			By now, you've probably realized that the real Wil Wheaton is a far cry from that interstellar boy scout Wesley Crusher he played on Star Drek: The Next Iteration. His Gary Buseyesque misadventures—pistol-whipping a cabin boy on the Star Trek/Mac users' cruise, kicking the ass of a certain purple dinosaur in a charity boxing match, and getting repeatedly tossed out of the Viper Room for drinking all the Sambuca in the house and beating Bill "Danger, Will Robinson!" Mumy around the head and shoulders with a mic stand while screaming, "RANGER TRAINING, MY LEFT NUT!!!"—have become legend. And, like all hard-drinking manly men—Ernest Hemingway, Henry Miller, Oscar Wilde, me—Wheaton has, somewhat inevitably, become a writer. Running Barefoot is Wheaton's second book, composed of stories and anecdotes culled from his immensely popular Web site, WilWheaton.net, which has just passed Yahoo! on Alexa's Web rankings, and is expected to debut at $123/share at its IPO next month. But you're not gonna buy the book because Wheaton is some kinda geek celebrity: You're gonna buy it because it contains the knee-slapping tale of Spongebob Vega$pants, the complete saga of Wheaton's intense, decades-long personal relationship with his mentor, William F. Shatner. That's right: Shatner found the time to take the young Ensign Crusher under his wing, imparting to him not only the actor's craft, but also making him heir to his own particular brand of vocal stylings (everyone: "Oh, no. . . no. . . I'm. . . a. . . ROCKET man!"), and his mastery of the written word (remember the Tek series, anyone?). Alas, with Running Barefoot, Wheaton has, much like Darth Vader, surpassed his master. I find it immensely difficult to type this next sentence but, well, Wil Wheaton is an infinitely better writer than Bill Shatner. He's also a better actor (contrast their early work : "Lardass's Revenge" versus "there's. . . a. . . man. . . on. . . the. . . wing!"). And, though Wheaton doesn't sing much since retiring after the Four Tenors tour, he does a pretty good job playing bass for his band, Dogstar. So, pick up a copy of Running Barefoot. No gangly, shirtless Tiger Beat pinup now, Wheaton doesn't need to rely on exposing his tiny, pink boy-nipples to an audience of preteen girls for fame. Oh, no, no. He's got a word processor and he KNOWS HOW TO USE IT. Got back issues of Tiger Beat? Write to editor@corporatemofo.com BTW, all the people commenting that I got the title wrong might want to check the top of this page. . . Posted June 22, 2003 3:20 PM Backtalk Name: Email Address: Comments:
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