Okay, so it’s not quite April 5, 2063 just yet, but . . .

LONDON (Reuters) – An unexplained radio signal from deep space could — just might be — contact from an alien civilization, New Scientist magazine reported on Thursday.
The signal, coming from a point between the Pisces and Aries
constellations, has been picked up three times by a telescope in Puerto Rico.
New Scientist said the signal could be generated by a previously unknown astronomical phenomenon or even be a by-product from the telescope itself.
But the mystery beam has excited astronomers across the world.
“If they can see it four, five or six times it really begins to get
exciting,” Jocelyn Bell Burnell of the University of Bath in western
England told the magazine.
It was broadcast on the main frequency at which the universe’s most common element, hydrogen, absorbs and emits energy, and which astronomers say is the most likely means by which aliens would advertise their presence.
The potentially extraterrestrial signals were picked up through the
SETI@home project, which uses programs running as screensavers on millions of personal computers worldwide to sift through the huge amount of data picked up by the telescope.

Linky
My whole life, I have hoped that we would look to the stars, and find undeniable proof that we are not alone in the universe. Could this be it?
Update: Aw, dammit. As synchronicity points out in comments, probably not:

A recent (September 1) article in New Scientist magazine, entitled ? Mysterious signals from 1000 light years away,? implies that the UC Berkeley SETI@home project has uncovered a very convincing candidate signal that might be the first strong evidence for extraterrestrial intelligence.
Alas, this story is misleading. According to Dan Werthimer, who heads up the UC Berkeley SERENDIP SETI project, this is a case of a reporter failing to understand the workings of their search. He says that misquotes and statements taken out of context give the impression that his team is exceptionally impressed with one of the many candidate signals, SHGb02+14a, uncovered using the popular SETI@home software. They are not.

Well, I still say we are not alone. So there. Nyah.

Yesterday afternoon, I worked with Rod Roddenberry (Gene’s son) at my favorite pub in the world, which just happens to be in Old Town Pasadena. Rod is shooting a documentary called “Trek Nation,” that was originally about how Star Trek has positively impacted all sorts of people all over the world . . . but has become, he told me, about a son’s efforts to understand his father, and grok his father’s legacy. He’s got an incredible story to tell, and I am really happy that I got to be part of it.
Even though we both worked on TNG (he was a PA one summer, and I was, well, Wesley), and we’re about the same age, we never actually sat down and talked about anything important — or got to know each other — until last night. It’s good that we didn’t meet earlier in our lives, because from about 17 to 21, I was too busy being A Really Big Asshole™ to get to know him, anyway. It was really cool to compare our memories of Gene, and the diferences — and similarities — in our relationship with him.
We had an incredible conversation, that I’d love to recount here, but that would sort of steal Rod’s thunder, wouldn’t it? When the documentary is released, I think it will be of great interest to WWdN readers, even (especially?) those of you who are not Star Trek fans.

When I drive from Pasadena, I can get to Hollywood three different ways: 1) down the 2 and through Echo Park to the 101, 2) down the 2 and through Silver Lake to Beverly, 3) out the 134, over Barham, and down the 101 to Highland.
Of course, when I take the Metro, it’s significantly easier: park at Del Mar Station, relax, and change trains once at Union Station . . . but since I was running late, I chose to drive route 3.
As I headed over the Cahuenga pass, I noticed a greater-than-usual number of busses with “SHUTTLE” or “HOLLYWOOD BOWL” or “PARKING LOT x” on them. I was so focused on getting to Jimmy’s Dinner, though, even if one of them had said, “HEY, WIL! THERE’S A CONCERT AT THE HOLLYWOOD BOWL, SO YOU SHOULD STAY ON THE FREEWAY UNTIL GOWER” I probably wouldn’t have noticed.
Luckily, some little voice in the back of my head said, “Excuse me, Wil? There’s a lot of traffic up there. You’d better go down to Gower to avoid it.” And I listened. If I’d gone straight, I would have been stuck in at least 45 minutes of crap, but I made it to Hollywood and Highland in under 5 minutes, without resorting to creative driving. Yes, I was very proud of myself.
I pulled into the Valet line at 7:50, and began to panic. I was supposed to arrive at 8, and I was going to have to run through the hotel as it was . . . so when the valet told me that I had to park in a far-away garage, I freaked.
“Dude! I have to speak in ten minutes, and I’m totally late, and you HAVE to park my car! PLEASE!”
“Well, I don’t know if –”
“I’m begging you, man!”
I waved a fiver at him, and he capitulated. I must admit, I felt like Mini Henry Hill for a second.
I walked into the cavernous lobby of the Hollywood Renaissance hotel, and looked for signs that would direct me to Jimmy’s Farewell Dinner. Finding none, I called a friend of mine who was already at the dinner, and asked him where it was. “On the fifth floor,” he said.
“Oh, that should be easy. I’ll just get into the elevator and . . . “
I’m not going to tell you how I got lost, because it’s incredibly embarassing, so let’s just fast forward about fifteen minutes, okay?
I walked into the ballroom, and marveled at the crowd: over 600 people filled the enormous room, and it took me several minutes to find my friend Harry. I had also misunderstood the schedule: I wasn’t on until around 9:15, so I had time to eat some dinner and visit with a few people.
Just before 9, the lights went down, and a woman got up to play an incredibly beautiful Star Trek suite on the oboe. Then Marc Lee took the stage, and started the show. The mood was not as somber as I thought it would be, and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt when Walter Koenig took over the hosting duties, and told stories about Jimmy and himself. I’ve heard for years about how funny Walter is, and I know both of his kids, who are incredily funny people . . . but I’d never actually seen Walter in action. Goddamn, man, he’s hilarious.
I got major butterflies when Walter called me up. I was only cast member from The Next Generation in attendance, and I wanted to represent my cast honorably.
My remarks went well. I had the audience on my side the entire time I spoke, and when I was done, I was so relieved that I didn’t suck . . . I walked right back to the wrong table. Of course, everyone was still watching me, so I got a bonus (and unintentional) laugh. Nice.
Nichelle spoke after me, and she was fantastic. She looked very beautiful and . . . well, imagine that Storm from XMEN (the comic, not the movie) was in her 60s. That’s how she looked. Her remarks were brilliant, and when she introduced Neil Armstrong . . . holy crap, man. The whole ballroom exploded! He gave a great speech, where he said that none of the rockets he rode were as advanced as the Enterprise, because they couldn’t even get out of the solar system. Like everyone else there, he’d been inspired by Jimmy’s work on Star Trek, and he thanked him for being Scotty.
And that was really the theme for the entire evening: all these people were there because they’d been touched by Jimmy’s work, or they’d been lucky enough to know him. I hope that when I am an old man, I am thought of half as fondly as Jimmy is.
Over the years, I’ve had a few moments when I’ve been able to “touch” how influential Star Trek is, but nothing has ever been like this night. I’m honored that I got to be a part of both.

Here are the remarks (I don’t think it’s quite long enough to be called a speech) that I’m delivering at Jimmy Doohan’s Farewell Convention Dinner in an hour-and-a-half.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m supposed to leave in 30 minutes, and I just finished them. Turns out I work well under pressure.
Or something. 🙂

Because of my involvement in Star Trek, I have gotten to meet some really interesting and cool people over the years: space shuttle pilots, a former vice president of the united states, men who walked on the moon . . . all of them are people who have made a huge impact on the world, and all of them are Star Trek fans. Guess who all the scientists and engineers credit with inspiring them to persue their careers?
That’s right: Commander Kang.
Just kidding. Of course, it’s Jimmy Doohan’s “Scotty.”
I can’t remember if I first met Jimmy when we worked together on Next Generation, or if I had snuck onto the set of Star Trek V. I don’t remember if I saw him through the eyes of the professional actor I occasionally was, or through the eyes of the drooling fanboy I always was.
I don’t remember if he was in a costume or street clothes, speaking with that wonderful brogue, or without . . . but the first time I saw him, he was Scotty. And he patiently listened to me geek out at him about realigning the warp core, and how excited I was to be part of Star Trek, and to work in Engineering — just like him. I babbled on about the mater / anti-matter intermix chamber and of course, the transporter. I imagine it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard from thousands of Star Trek fans a thousand times before — well, except for the also-working-on-Star-Trek part — but he smiled, and listened, and when I finally calmed down enough for him to actually talk to me, Jimmy made me feel like he’d known me his entire life, and he was never just “Scotty” to me again. He was Jimmy, and he was my friend. Over the years, our paths often crossed on Star Trek cruises or whenever Paramount was celebrating yet another Star Trek milestone, and I gradualy became aware of something: the way Jimmy made me feel wasn’t unique to our relationship. He truly made everyone he met feel like he was their best friend.
And I think that is why so many of us are here tonight: to honor and celebrate our friend Jimmy Doohan.
I first read that Jimmy had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s on the Internet, at TotalFark.com, and I felt like a member of my family had fallen ill — actually, I imagine that anyone who ever spent more than a few minutes with Jimmy felt the same way — but the news struck very close to home for me. My wife’s grandmother was diagnosed in October of last year, and we’ve experienced the helplessness and frustration that accompanies any serious illness.
Gene Roddenberry’s legacy is the positive future depicted in Star Trek — a future free of war, prejudice, ignorance . . . and disease. People have been working to create that future since September 8, 1966.
Today, people travel into space so often, it rarely makes the front page of the paper anymore. Our cell phones look like communicators, our PDAs look like tricorders, and my brother-in-law drives a minivan that looks — and handles — like a shuttle craft. We’re not quite there yet with ending ignorance . . . but when we do, I think war and prejudice will quickly follow.
We are *very* close to ending disease. Scientists at the University of California are working on a vaccine, and Karolinska’s Alzheimer’s disease research centre at the Huddinge hospital, was just established south of Stockholm in Sweden. In July, Sheldon Goldberg, president of the Alzheimer’s Association, said, “A world without Alzheimer’s disease … is within our reach.”
And that is also why we are here tonight. I can’t think of a better way to honor and celebrate our friend Jimmy Doohan than by doing everything we can to ensure that Alzheimer’s disease is cured within our lifetime.
Thank you.

I’m getting ready to speak at Jimmy Doohan’s Farewell Convention tonight, and I’ve been writing and re-writing all afternoon. I spent all morning finishing my Dungeon Column, so it’s been Wil’s Big Day Of Getting Shit Done.
I’ve written more stuff in this one sitting today (I’m closing in on six hours) than in the last month, so I’ve been taking breaks and surfing the web to give myself time to recharge between furious bursts of creativity.
In my travels across teh intarweb, I ended up at the blog of my friend and fellow ACME writer, Shane Nickerson. Shane’s Good People, and he’s a fantastic writer. He’s also about to turn 33, and he’s blogging about some milestones in his life. Though Shane is a year older than me (ha! Old Man! Old Man!) and he grew up in New England, we share some remarkably similar childhood memories:

1977- My first movie in the theater: Star Wars. Later on in life, I would make the tragic social mistake of getting “Star Wars Sneakers.” I wore them with pride the first day and then instantly regretted it when I was lambasted by ALL of my friends wearing Zips.

A few years after 1977, I was caught in the furious grip of Michael Jackson mania, and wore a “Thriller” T-shirt to school on “Graffiti Shirt” day . . . and all the kids wearing Van Halen T-shirts brutalized me for it. After first recess, I ended up turning it inside-out, and lied to everyone that I had spilled punch on it.
Man, kids can be cruel, can’t they? I’ve often wondered . . . if I ever ran into one of my childhood tormentors, what would I do? Pretend nothing ever happened? Cock-punch? Point and laugh? I don’t know . . . I’d like to think I would rise above it and act like the mature adult and parent of two teenagers that I am . . . but I’m pretty sure I’d end up doing the cock-punch.