It has always been in the back of my mind… dreaming about going through the corners of tim; I always wanted to fly in strange machines.
I wanna do centuries in a lifetime and feel it with my hands. Touch World War II and Cleopatra. Flying…
Could it be that my dream would come true? Building a machine that would actually do what I want it to do.
Kids! Now you know why they call it Dope™!
Stay in drugs.
Don’t do school.
Burn dust.
Eat my rubber.
Wait, wait. Stop. Rewind. Reverse that. Ok then…
A man, a plan, a canal; Panama!
“Madam, in Eden, I’m Adam”
Dennis sinned
What about Carmen Electra?
OK, viva, because you requested it. Here’s the next one. If there’s any interest, I’ll see about doing the others.
Dr. Phlox is a right friendly fellow
Who is usually laid-back and mellow
He’s along just for thrills
(And to cure a few ills)
And perhaps start a ship-board bordello
“Doing” the others? Hmmmmm…
I swear, it’s contagious.
There was a Denobulan Doc
Who looked nothing like Mister Spock
His critters needed kibble
So he tossed them a tribble
And sent poor Hoshi into shock.
While watching The Squire of Gothos
I ate a huge platter of nachos
They gave me bad gas
Which I proceeded to pass
And blamed it on that poor dog, Porthos
Aha! He proves it!
There once was a fencer from Fisk,
Whose thrust was exceedingly brisk.
So fast was his action
The Lorentz Contraction
Turned his rapier into a disk.
Or at least it would, if the Star Trek universe paid more than lip-service to the laws of Relativity.
I thought the Lorentz contraction described objects at near relatavistic speeds.
That’s some fast swordplay!
And, you have a rapist wit.
I mean rapier wit.
I’m sore from playing both basketball and coed softball this afternoon. The squeeze doesn’t like outdoor sports. She likes the outdoors, just not playing in it.
I really really suck at softball.
If I can think of the rhymes, I’ll limerick me about sucking at softball. Or, you guys can do it.
That’s why Quantum brought the pooch along. Captains never poot.
If B&B read this stuff-and that’s why they’ve slated changes for next season-the crew’s gonna start speaking in bad rhyme.
Please, stop while we still have time.
I beg you.
Archer:
There’s a bounty on my head,
Some Klingon warlord wants me dead.
If you guys have a grappling hook,
Then I’ll go in and take a look.
Maybe I can find a way
To stay alive another day.
At least I’m not an acting ham,
Like that bitch Kirk. Quantum I am.
T’Pol:
I do not think your Prime directive
Will end up being too effective.
Because our Vulcan scientists
Have come up with an awesome list
Of things that simply can’t be done.
Don’t you guys just love my bum?
Porthos:
Bark bark bark bark
Arf arf woof woof
Bark woof arf growl
Arf arf bark woof
Mayweather:
Tripp:
When I lived down home on the farm
The chickens used to sound alarm
To warn us of the giant bunny
Who told us jokes that were not funny.
Well, I just slept with an alien
And I know you’re thinking Not Again!
But I am not a star ship whore
I even mopped up the catwalk floor.
Though Chef will keep my dinners mild
As it appears that I’m with child.
[continue…]
There once was a Doper named 'plant
Who let loose with a Trek mini-rant.
We paid him no heed,
Smoked Aesiron’s weed,
And kept right on limericking whether it rhymed or not, just out of spite, and besides, we’ve got to have something to do between episodes.
Gilbert and Sullivan in the 21st century.
Hey, my rhymes are good! Bad jokes, perhaps, but good rhymes.
Or are you saying that B&B will take our good rhymes and make bad ones out of them?
Gazing about in mystification.
Jesus H. Shit. Now I know what you guys do with your weekends.
Is there any tequila left?
When in Rome… here’s my Limerick contribution. Travis and Quantum, respectively:
To keep Enterprise on its route,
Requires a helmsman astute,
But Travis, though swell,
Can’t express himself well
For the poor boy’s entirely mute!
A hyperemotional loon
Who’s irrational night, morn and noon,
Somehow gained command
Of a starship most grand
Despite being a thorough buffoon.