Everyone lies, Michael. The innocent lie because they don’t want to be blamed for something they didn’t do, and the guilty lie because they don’t have any other choice.
A niche in time saves Stein.
You know, I can already hear what Stein’s gonna say about 2147.
Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future. Earth, 2147. The legacy of the Metal Wars, when man fought machine and machines won. Bio-Dreads, monstrous creations that hunt down human survivors and digitize them. Volcania, center of the Bio-Dread empire, stronghold and fortress of Lord Dread, feared ruler of this new order. But from the fires of the Metal Wars arose a new breed of warrior, born and trained to bring down Lord Dread and his Bio-Dread empire. They were soldiers of the future, mankind’s last hope. Their leader, Captain Jonathan Power; master of the incredible powersuits, which transform each soldier into a one-man attack force. Major Matthew “Hawk” Masterson, fighter in the sky. Lt. Michael “Tank” Ellis, ground assault unit. Sgt. Robert “Scout” Baker, espionage and communications. And Corporal Jennifer “Pilot” Chase, tactical systems expert. Together, they form the most powerful fighting force in Earth’s history. Their creed: to protect all life. Their promise: to end Lord Dread’s rule. Their name: Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future!
Now here’s the thing: teenagers had been foiling alien invasions for months by then. There had been a real run on them lately, and who else was going to do it? Adults?
“Some of the Math Club nerds have got a real live alien! They’re hiding it in a basement rec room.”
Silly little planet. Anyone could take over the place with the right set of mammary glands.
“You are right,” he said at last. “There is no other way to make our plan work.”
"Plan 9? Ah, yes. Plan 9 deals with the resurrection of the dead. Long distance electrodes shot into the pineal and pituitary gland of the recently dead. "
Oh, no. No, see-see, this is a really shit idea. You know why? Because it’s really obviously a shit idea.
Don’t you understand? This is the greatest discovery since van Leeuwenhoek first looked through a microscope and saw an amoeba!
Perhaps there are some things man was never meant to tamper with.
This is my proposal: that hominid speciation has been driven by the transfer of populations between parallel Earths. It is fantastic, but logical. If this is true, then everything about us–everything about me–has been has been shaped by the meddling of the Old Ones, these engineers of worlds and hominids, for their own unrevealed, unfathomable purpose.
Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth’s fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.
Gozer the Traveller, he will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the rectification of the Vuldronaii, the Traveller came as a large and moving Torb! Then, during the third reconciliation of the last of the Meketrex Supplicants they chose a new form for him… that of a Giant Sloar! many Shubs and Zulls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Sloar that day I can tell you.
I don’t know how long this tranquilizer will keep him harmless. We must get him back to my lab before the effects wear off.
“Warning signs are marching,” Jackie reported. “Small warnings, I’ll grant you. But I can’t shake the premonition of disasters on the loose.”
“Buckaroo, The White House wants to know is everything ok with the alien space craft from Planet 10 or should we just go ahead and destroy Russia?”
“Tell him yes on one and no on two.”
“Which one was yes, go ahead and destroy Russia… or number 2?”
So long, Mom, I’m off to drop the bomb, so don’t wait up for me.
Everywhere the atom bombs are droppin’
It’s the end of all humanity
No more time for last minute shoppin’
It’s time to face your final destiny
Well, it’s Christmas at ground zero
There’s panic in the crowd
We can dodge debris while we trim the tree
Underneath a mushroom cloud