Spock Out.

Unless you've been stranded on a remote island in the South Pacific for the past 70 years, preparing to single-handedly repel the inevitable imperialist assault on your idyllic outpost, then you know that comic conventions have become big business in America, pumping millions if not billions of dollars into the economy and giving legions of geeks and nerds reason to live.

I like to believe that Leonard Nimoy was largely, nay, principally responsible for their burgeoning popularity.

It's hard to dispute the notion that Nimoy's Spock was the heart and soul of Star Trek. Excepting the occasional episode of pon farr our favorite green-blooded hobgoblin was the dependable anchor about which the fantastical storylines pivoted. Without his gravitas, and an eyebrow which itself could speak volumes, Star Trek would have been a confection rather than a banquet. It would have been lost in space, if you know what I mean. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that a Star Trek without Spock wouldn't have lasted a full season.

As a result of the program's popularity, which fully blossomed in syndication, comic and sci-fi conventions suddenly had bankable superstars to broaden their appeal and, thus, increase attendance providing a reliable forum for an audience eager to seek, popularize, or outright invent whole new pop-culture genres.

So thanks, Mr. Nimoy, for cosplay and filking, furries and steampunk, slave Leia group photos and sexy Pikachus, anime and dakimakura, swag and hover-hands, panel discussions and game-rooms full of reeking neckbeards.

But mostly for "Live long and prosper."

Because you will always be our friend.

=Lefty=