Shatner is a cultural microbe, beneath my contempt. I spit in his general direction. As for you, Martin, you incompetent dim-witted whelk, you pathetic discarded merkin, you nattering incestuous insect, I have no doubts that I would exceed you in any contest of masculine virtues. You cannot even spell the word "masculinity". That settles it. Does your wife know that you play with your stuffed Barney dinosaur when she's out buying your smelly pickled oysters so you won't snivel and whine incessantly?