It’s Communicator, Special Edition, with digitally enhanced special effects, added scenes, THX sound, greedo shooting first, and digital ewoks!
Peradventure it shall come to pass, kn(*)ckers, that I needs must wax Eloquent.
If we modulated the tachyon pulses through his nose rather than the deflector dish array, would it grow back, or is that where the Starfleet Plastic Surgeons screwed up in the first place?
I think his nose might end up getting amplified to 12 million times its original size and transmitted through subspace into a decaying orbit above the Vulcan homeworld. I’d totally pay to see that.
Vulcan #1: (pointing) What’s that in the sky?
Vulcan #2: Is it a bird?
Vuilcan #3: Is it a warp-capable starship?
All: No! It’s Michael Jackson’s nose!
(screaming, horror and general pandemonium* ensue)
*General Pandemonium = my next screenname
Ladies and gentlemen;
Since we have a repeat tonight, may I suggest that kn(*)ckers write an episode for us?
However, rather than simply relating spoilers, we must ask her for yes or no information, a’ la twenty quetions.
Does Merriweather speak?
Does Porthos pee?
Does Hoshi keep her shirt?
Are Vulcan pimples green? (oops, not yea or nay)
What of the Panda?!!??!
Kn(i’mnotwearingpants,fellas,howaboutthat,hmmm…?)ckers is plenty of Panda all by herself. But, she never Dopes at night. At least, I’ve never seen her do it. Have I?
So, for the past two months I’ve had to go someplace on Wednesday nights. I usually watch Enterprise, West Wing, and then L&O but since I only have one VCR and they’re on two stations, one of them gets the shaft (shut yo mouth!). This one has been Enterprise, since two is better than one.
But tonight I’m free to watch! Tonight I can get back to viewing Enterprise.
Tonight it’s a repeat.
Crew members must die. I start with Reed for being a git. Lose your communicator? Imbecilic cerebelumless git. You die, underwater, with both legs amputated, and the lost communicator shoved up both nostrils.
I think shoving the communicator up both nostrils is a bit much.
And now for something completely different
I shall answer questions about spoilers from my Future Canadian Vision Satellite Thingie with only the following:
Yes
No
Maybe
Who Cares?
Did you have a question to ask, Schmuck, or do you want to make a speech?
Do alien men find Hoshi attractive, or do they eat lunch in their cubicles?
Do you prefer walking short distances or speaking with an accent.
Is it hotter in the country or in the summer?
How many boards would the Mogols hoard if the Mongol Hordes got bored?
Does this dress make me look fat?
Yes.
Maybe.
No.
What was the question again?
Did you have a question to ask, or do you want to make a speech?
Wait, that’s five…
Suddenly they are thrown into the Mirror Universe, where Archer makes good on his threat of a flogging and follows it up with a keelhauling. Malcolm recovers well enough to plan ghastly vengeance against Archer, starting with knocking off his genetically-engineered-by-Khan’s-Kennels pit bull/Doberman mix.
Can’t say I have but how did my name come up? Not that I’m complainin’… I think this is the first time I’ve ever been mentioned in a thread I haven’t posted in (Yay! I’m finally a full fledged Trek Doper!) but huh?
Yeah, I’m opnly here during work hours. No internet access at home. It’s sad, really.
I’m wearing pants today, in case anyone wonders.
I don’t have the brains or energy to write a proper pandalicious episode right now, but I WILL write a poem on the subject of Mister Lily-Livered Limey Reed and Communicator misplacement.
The greatest ship in all the fleet,
The pinnacle of science,
Fair Enterprise surpasses all
Without OSHA compliance.
With phase cannons and grapplers,
She’s a fearsome craft, indeed.
And who could man such weaponry,
But our Dear Lieutenant Reed?
Alas, poor Reed, we knew ye well,
You stupid, smarmy cuss.
You lost your walky-talky,
And caused a mighty fuss.
Many times you’ve made the offer
To die for ship and crew,
But nobody’s bothered to accept
I hope someday they do.
It’s not your personality;
your clinical depression,
I just abhor incompetence
From one in your profession.
So Dear Lieutenant, listen close,
You morbid sumbitch waste:
Go open up an airlock,
and jump out into space!
Love, Kn*ckers
P.S.: I’m really not all that irritated by Reed, but I could only seem to think of very abusive rhymes.
“morbid sumbitch waste”?
The Lady can certainly turn a phrase.
Yeah, I felt that particular line was a little cold and heartless, but I was in a hurry. In hindsight, it didn’t even rhyme that well.
But he is morbid.
“Oh! Am I being faced with my imminent demise again? Goody! Can I have a rambling, self-pitying momologue? Oh, smashing. Do you think I can get in a few references to the Royal Navy?”
yawn
[Rhett Btler]I meant it as a compliment.[/Rhett Butler]
Especially if you are one of the Living Dead.