Well, I’m not trying to not tell you that.
If you want my advice, you’ll bounce it off the far wall.
I’m afraid the fertilizer has hit the ventilator sir!
“We found the bathrooms, which were labeled ‘Aliens’ and ‘Femaliens.’
‘Finally,’ I said to J.Lo. 'Here’s a bathroom you’re allowed to use.”
We invited him here!
What can we learn from that thing except a quicker way to die?
I come in peace. Shoot to kill, shoot to kill.
No, sir, just a little anxious to get up there and whoop E.T.'s ass, that’s all!
You humans, most of you, subscribe to this policy of an eye for an eye, a life for a life, which is known throughout the universe for its… stupidity. Even your Buddha and your Christ had quite a different vision, but nobody’s paid much attention to them, not even the Buddhists or the Christians. You humans. Sometimes its hard to imagine how you’ve made it this far.
Do you seriously expect me to tell the President that an alien has landed, assumed the identity of a dead housepainter from Madison, Wisconsin and is presently out tooling around the countryside in a hopped up orange and black 1977 Mustang?
Imagine a giant cockroach, with unlimited strength, a massive inferiority complex, and a real short temper, is tear-assing around Manhattan Island in a brand-new Edgar suit. That sound like fun?
Of course. But you’re paying for the respray.
I dunno what the hell’s in there, but it’s weird and pissed off, whatever it is.
The blasts echoed harmlessly through the vacuum of space.
Without your space helmet, Dave? You’re going to find that rather difficult.
(I really want to say, “Sword to space helmet!” my all-time favorite line from She-Ra, Princess of Power, but I guess that’s really fantasy.)
It wasn’t enough that humans did something so difficult as learning to play a musical instrument. Then they had to do it in groups. While walking around. In complicated patterns. And then they competed with one another to do it even better.
Mission Log, I think I just heard a spooky noise. And against my basic instincts and everything that I learned at the academy training camp, I will now approach the noise, for further investigation.
I dunno what the hell’s in there, but it’s weird and pissed off, whatever it is.
Looks like love at first sight to me.
But when a foxy-faced thing that looks like a girl goes up to a bear cage, one that’s locked with two big rusted padlocks you couldn’t budge with anything less than a blowtorch, and jerks 'em open like they were made of butter, then I say she’s either a witch or something worse.