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50,000 Monkeys at 50,000 Typewriters Can't Be Wrong

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WIL WHEATON dot NET
WIL WHEATON dot NET

50,000 Monkeys at 50,000 Typewriters Can't Be Wrong

Category: Television

seven mary three come back

Posted on 25 February, 202626 February, 2026 By Wil

This last weekend, I was in Pensacola, Florida. When I told my friend that, he said “what are you doing in Florida?” I said, “Trying to get out.” But I was actually there for Pensacon. It’s a convention that has invited me year after year, but hasn’t ever fit into my schedule until this year, so it was my first time.

Florida deserves the jokes we make about it, but my experience when I was there was quite lovely. Every person I interacted with was kind, friendly, helpful. I had an incredible piece of blackened gulf red snapper for dinner one night, my bed was comfy, and I did not have a single awkward or uncomfortable encounter with anyone at the show.

None of that is why this will be one of the most memorable conventions of my life, and I will now tell you why.

Holy. Shit.

I turned to my friend, Leah, who works with me at conventions to keep things running smoothly. “Dude, I have to come do this tomorrow.”

“Okay, we’ll take care of it,” she said.

So Saturday comes around, and I’m signing autographs at my table. Leah taps me on the shoulder and says, “it’s time to go downstairs.”

The excitement that surged inside of me threatened to explode out of my chest like Alien. I told the people who were in the line that I would be right back, I was going to fulfill a childhood dream.

We went downstairs to the photo-op area, and I apologized to the line I was cutting. They seemed to understand, my fellow fans of CHiPs, who also could not believe this was actually happening.

I bounced on the balls of my feet while I waited, and oh shit here comes Larry Wilcox. And he’s wearing a CHP uniform shirt with a name tag that says JOHN! I tried so hard to control my bouncing, but I’m pretty sure I failed.

We made eye contact and I said, “Hi, I’m Wil. I’m a huge fan and I am so excited to take a picture with you.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Larry.” We shook hands, and I didn’t keep shaking it like I did when I met Henry Rollins thank god.

There was a commotion around the corner, which could only mean one thing. Here comes Erik Estrada, much taller than I expected, and he is wearing a uniform shirt with a name tag that says PONCH.

Dude, it’s totally Ponch. Like, right there, right in front of me, are Ponch and John and I’m so excited I can’t tell if I’m going to burst into tears or throw up or what.

They take their positions on their marks, which are the same marks I had been using just a little bit earlier, and the photographer tells me that they are ready.

This is my chance. This is the one time I get to say this. I take a deep breath, and I say, “I don’t want to take up a ton of your time, so I’ll say this quickly. I grew up in Sunland-Tujunga, and you guys used to film in my neighborhood all the time.”

They looked at each other. “Sunland-Tujunga!” Larry Wilcox said. “We love Sunland-Tujunga!”

“Yeah, it was a great place to grow up. So I loved watching CHiPs, and I loved that I could see streets I recognized when I watched it.

“One day when you were filming, in like 1979, I think, my babysitter went to the set and came back with your autographs for me. I cherished them, until they were lost in a move probably 40 years ago.”

Erik Estrada’s eyes lit up and he flashed me that classic Ponch smile. I took a steadying breath.

“But this is really what I wanted to tell you: I had a rough childhood, with a lot of abuse an exploitation. I was sad and scared most of the time. But whenever you were on my TV, I was happy and I was safe. I loved CHiPs so much. You were the adults I wished I’d had in my life. You guys protected people, you stood up to bullies, and the whole cast felt like a group of people who were always there for each other. I desperately wanted that in my life, and watching CHiPs got me as close to it as I could get. So I really just want to say thank you for your work and for the joyful memories you gave me.”

“Oh, buddy,” Erick Estrada said, “thank you. Come here,” and he pulled me into a warm and loving hug.

“Thank you,” I said, “you have no idea.”

“I think maybe we do,” Larry Wilcox said, very kindly, with a warm smile. Maybe I’m not the first person to share a story like mine with them.

“Let’s take a great picture,” Erik Estrada said.

“Thank you. I’d love that,” I said.

I stood between them, they put their arms around me, and a dream came true for 9 year-old Wil.

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They were such kind men. I felt seen and I felt special. All these years later, Ponch and John can still make this weird, sad, scared, little kid feel safe.

I will cherish this memory for the rest of my life.

I’m glad you’re here, and I hope you’ll come back to read more. If you’d like to get my posts in your inbox, you know what to do.

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Wesley Crusher and The Travelers

Posted on 1 April, 2025 By Wil

While you wait for this incredible new Star Trek series to release, I invite you to listen to episode one of It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton, before episode two drops tomorrow.

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a year later, a photo and memory dump from star trek the cruise vii.

Posted on 25 February, 2025 By Wil

This month has been such an awful year, my sense of time is … “weird” is the best I can come up with … in a way it hasn’t been since the lockdown days, when every day felt like Friday, and it never felt like the weekend.

Anyway. When I woke up this morning and plucked the rectangle of doom from its charger, I fumbled it (like you do) and bumped the screen with my thumb as it slipped from my hand and tumbled to the floor, alarm screeching. I groaned, dragged myself out of bed, and then I carefully and mindfully bent over to pick it up because my body is just being such an asshole about the whole I’m fifty-two-almost-fifty-three situation. I silenced the alarm as I cursed the guy who set it for me yesterday.

At some point in the fall to the floor, the rectangle must have switched modes from endless delivery of doom to have some joyful memories because if you look like someone who is going to throw me into a volcano if I don't, because when I slid my thumb across the face to shut it up, it revealed a collage it had made me, from one year ago, when Anne and I were on Star Trek: The Cruise. Oh, little phone I didn’t know I’d have to name FuckTrump all over again when these pictures were taken, I can’t stay mad at you.

This morning’s bedhead went on a milkshake date, did some fun nerdy stuff, watched his favorite human hit one of the jackpots on a slot machine, and watched the sunset.

And I gotta tell you, the joyful memories were abundant, retrieved by all my senses and delivered to me in 7.1 4K Mega Digital Super Surround-o-Rama.

I remembered the kindness shown to me by literally every single passenger I encountered. How everyone gently respected my boundaries, how delightful it was to notice something in the decor that was an easter egg for nerds like me.

All it takes is a few graphics to turn a boring cruise ship elevator into a starship turbolift.
He was so patient while I nerded out and took a selfie.
Right after this picture, I asked him if knew where I could find Tuvix. It was awkward, I admit.

I remembered the hours I had the privilege to spend backstage with my extended Star Trek family, with my Space Mom and Space Little Brother I Never Knew About, before going on stage to perform with them for an audience that wanted to love us.

The Crusher Family Therapy Hour With Todd Stashwick was the first time I’d done improv in years. It was so much fun.

I remembered how great it felt to walk off every stage I was on, feeling like we met their expectations. (I didn’t remember, but was reminded by my blog, that I risked a raw, emotional, vulnerable performance, and was rewarded with a standing ovation.)

I walked off that ship feeling energized, inspired, grateful to be part of something so special, and I didn’t realize until this moment how much I needed to feel the memory of that, right now.

The 2025 cruise is happening as I write this, and I’m envious of my friends and family who are part of it … but I’m also really happy for them and my fellow nerds, because I remember.

I sent this picture to my godson, and he sent back “Who are you supposed to be in that picture? Is it AI?” I guess my sister hasn’t introduced him to Star Trek.
“Mom, I want Wesley.”
“We have Wesley at home.”
Wesley at home:

Thanks for reading, friends. I hope this finds you well. Before you go, if you haven’t subscribed to updates, I’d love for you to do that. I have an incredible announcement coming, and I don’t want you to miss it. (That’s why these horrible reminders are all over the place). A huge thank you and terrorist fist jab to the 13,000 of you who got this in email! I appreciate you.

/subscribe

(more…)
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a couple of og star trek kids, talking about what it is like to be the og star trek kids

Posted on 9 February, 20259 February, 2025 By Wil

Cirroc Lofton played Jake Sisko on Deep Space Nine. I played Wesley Crusher on The Next Generation.

And before this week, he and I never talked about it, which is something that’s been on my mind since we saw each other at the Star Trek: Picard season 3 premiere.

This week, things finally lined up and I was a guest on his show, The 7th Rule. We talked about The Game, our space families, and what it means to be the og star trek kids.

I’ve embedded it below, or you can follow this link to watch it.

And while I have your attention, I wanted to share this exciting bit of news: I narrated Bill Gates’ memoir, Source Code.

Here’s the description:

The origin story of one of the most influential and transformative business leaders and philanthropists of the modern age

The business triumphs of Bill Gates are widely known: the twenty-year-old who dropped out of Harvard to start a software company that became an industry giant and changed the way the world works and lives; the billionaire many times over who turned his attention to philanthropic pursuits to address climate change, global health, and U.S. education.
 
Source Code is not about Microsoft or the Gates Foundation or the future of technology. It’s the human, personal story of how Bill Gates became who he is today: his childhood, his early passions and pursuits. It’s the story of his principled grandmother and ambitious parents, his first deep friendships and the sudden death of his best friend; of his struggles to fit in and his discovery of a world of coding and computers in the dawn of a new era; of embarking in his early teens on a path that took him from midnight escapades at a nearby computer center to his college dorm room, where he sparked a revolution that would change the world.
 
Bill Gates tells this, his own story, for the first time: wise, warm, revealing, it’s a fascinating portrait of an American life.

I didn’t want to let the work get dry and academic, which is a real possibility when doing someone else’s memoir, so I treated it as if I were playing a character, the character of Bill Gates, who is telling you this story of his remarkable young life, and the founding of his company. I got into his head, into his character, and did all the work I would have done if I were playing him on camera or on stage. I’m so proud of how it all turned out. I would never be cast to play him on camera, and it’s the kind of work that isn’t really recognized in my industry the way on camera is, but that doesn’t diminish it in any way. I am so grateful that I got to do it.

It released last week, and I am intensely proud of it. We talk about it a bit in this podcast, that I feel like I leveled up my skills when I was doing Source Code (and Picks & Shovels, and When The Moon Hits Your Eye), and it’s some of the best work I’ve ever done.

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“that’s the picard maneuver. you can’t do that.”

Posted on 4 February, 2025 By Wil

There’s a post in r/startrek collecting some of the more memorable stories we have told, and fans have remembered, over the decades.

I added one of my own, which I know I’ve written about before, but not here, I don’t think.

It’s about Patrick Stewart tugging on his tunic top, which always wanted to ride up when he (or anyone wearing the uniform) sat down. Because Patrick can’t do anything halfway, he made it very dramatic. Over time, he began to use it as a little bit of business in appropriate moments.

This is a story about that.

We were filming on the bridge. The scene started with Wesley standing, and after half a page or so, he sits down at the conn and I think plots a course or something.

Whenever Wesley sat down, he pulled his jacket tight, just like Picard always did. If you look, you’ll see that we all do that. That’s an important bit of context: we all did that.

So it was like take four of the scene. After we cut on take three, this producer came into the set and stood off camera, just to the right of the viewscreen, as we were looking at it. We do take four, and while we are resetting for take five, this producer comes over to me, leans down so nobody can hear him, and says, “You can’t pull your tunic down like that. That’s the Picard Maneuver, and only Picard can do that.”

So, first of all: this guy is so far out of his lane, he isn’t on the map. If anyone is ever going to talk to an actor, especially in between takes, it always goes through the First Assistant Director, and the Director. It’s a matter of professional respect, and it’s important for our work. If anyone can come up and give us notes or whatever, we will end up with all these conflicting notes, unsure which one to actually listen to.

I’m just 17 or so, and even I know all of this, but I don’t want to get in trouble, so I just say, “…okay. How am I supposed to stop it from riding up to my tits when I sit down? Because that’s what happens.”

He looks so annoyed at me, and sort of bark-whispers, “Just don’t touch it.” And he scurries away into the darkness of the stage.

I am so tired of being treated differently than these same people treat the adults, and I still haven’t learned how to speak up for myself, directly. But I am about to engage in a bit of malicious compliance, the only form of resistance I know how to employ.

We reset, they roll, and when Wesley sits down, his tunic comes all the way up, just like I said it would. It exposes my fake muscle suit, my bracers holding up my trousers, and absolutely ruins the take.

“Cut!” The director calls from offstage.

“Wil, you have to pull your tunic down,” he says, with this tone of utter confusion. Like, obviously.

“Yeah, I know,” I say, looking straight at the guy who is about to wish he’d stayed in his lane, “but [his name] told me that I wasn’t allowed to do the Picard Maneuver, so…” and I shrug, the tunic still bunched up.

That guy turned so bright red, he lit up in the darkness. Everyone on the entire crew looked at him. He sputtered something, and quickly fled the stage.

I made eye contact with Brent and with Frakes. They both looked back at me, communicating their approval. It felt great.

I can’t say for sure that we printed the next take and moved on, but it’s a great way to end the story so let’s go with that.

That guy never gave me a note again. If I recall correctly, my little tunic tug (similar to, yet legally distinctly different from the Picard Maneuver) is in the final cut of the episode

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