Star Trek Christmas Songs

"I got these from a friend of mine, who got them from a BBS in New Orleans. I have changed Wesley's so that the chorus goes "teenaged boy" instead of "only a boy"; I think it sings a little easier this way." - Jonathon Ingram

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From Jean-Luc Picard (to the tune of "Let it Snow")

Oh, the vacuum outside is endless,
Unforgiving, cold, and friendless,
But still we must boldly go--
Make it so, make it so, make it so.

From William Riker (to the tune of "Deck the Halls")

Here's a vexing Christmas riddle
(fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la)
Why must I play second fiddle?
(fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la)
How can I impress Deanna
(fa-la-la, la-la-la, la la la)
When I'm number two banana?
(fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la la)

From Wesley Crusher (to the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen")

I'm at Starfleet Academy and I'd just like to say
I miss the opportunity to weekly save the day--
To make things worse I have to be
In some dumb Christmas play!
Yes I'm bright, though I'm just a teenaged boy, teenaged boy,
And the Enterprise was my most favorite toy.

From Data

Jingle Bells,
Jingle Bells,
jingle all the way!
Oh what fun it is to ride
in a one-horse open sleigh--

or so I am reliably informed, lacking a subjective and intuitively perceived referent for the term "fun," I am able only to report the phenomenon as experienced by others, whose individual perceptions somewhat color the-- yes, sir.

FW: For Sale - Slightly Used Tazer

Credited to Charles Oakes

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I bought something really cool for my wife. The occasion is my retirement and I was looking for a little something extra for my lovely bride. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out--way too cool! I've seen several demonstrations for cops, but I found this handheld one for civilians.

Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arc between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did it. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arc of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeeeee... I'm easily amused, just for your information, but I have yet to explain to her what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, etc., etc. There I sat in my recliner, her cat looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not the cat) and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping the cat for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet kitty after all. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time.

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Tazer in the other. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. All the while I'm looking at this little device (measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference, pretty cute really, and loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries) thinking to myself, "no friggin' way!" trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.

Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what followed. I'm sitting there alone, the cat looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, "don't do it buddy," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight-- always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. Don't ya hate that?)

I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY ****! DAaaaaMN!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body! in the oddest position. The cat was standing over me making sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again, do it again!"

Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Tazer, one note of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you're lucky, you won't lodge one of the prongs 1/4" deep in your thigh like yours truly. SON-OF-A-BITCH that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both titties were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs., give or take an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure. By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. They're round. Miss 'em...! Sure would like to get'em back.

I wonder what retirement day two will bring?

Copying the Master

A young composotion student in one of the more prestigious conservatories in Russia is running out of time for an important project. In the coming weekend, the school orchestra will be gathered on stage to read through all the composition students' symphonies for the first time in front of the professor.

In a fit of last-minute genious, he goes to the library and checks out one of his professor's symphonies, and writes out the whole work backwards. That weekend, after his hand-copied parts have been distributed, he waits nervously as the orchestra looks over the music.

The conductor gets into place and readies the orchestra, and on his downbeat, out comes the opening fanfare to Tchaikovsky's 4th.

Ode to a Spell Checker

Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
Its rare lea ever wrong.

Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.

Arthur On Gnome

The Outhouse

Once there was a little boy that lived in the country. They had to use an outhouse, and the little boy hated it because it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter and stank all the time. The outhouse was sitting on the bank of a creek and the boy determined that one day he would push that outhouse into the creek. One day after a spring rain, the creek was swollen so the little boy decided today was the day to push the outhouse into the creek. So he got a large stick and started pushing. Finally, the outhouse toppled into the creek and floated away.

That night his dad told him they were going to the woodshed after supper. Knowing that meant a spanking, the little boy asked why. The dad replied, "Someone pushed the outhouse into the creek today. It was you, wasn't it son?" The boy answered yes. Then he thought a moment and said, "Dad, I read in school today that George Washington chopped down a cherry tree and didn't get into trouble because he told the truth." The dad replied, "Well, son, George Washington's father wasn't in the cherry tree."

New Joke

A family from Maine was visiting relatives in Georgia one summer. The little boy from Maine was playing with his little girl cousin. Since it was so hot, they stripped and waded in the creek for a while. As they were sunning themselves afterward, the little girl drawled, "Ya know, ah never knew there was so much difference between a Yankee and a Southerner."

The Number of the Beast

[from Rec.humor.funny]

OK, we all know that 666 is the Number of the Beast.

But did you know that:

$665.95 - Retail price of the Beast
$699.25 - Price of the Beast plus 5% sales tax
$769.95 - Price of the Beast with all accessories and
replacement soul
$656.66 - Walmart price of the Beast
6, uh... what
was that number
again? - Number of the Blonde Beast
00666 - Zip code of the Beast
1-900-666-0666 - Live Beasts! One-on-one pacts! Call Now!
Only $6.66/minute. Over 18 only please.
Route 666 - Highway of the Beast
666 F - Oven temperature for roast Beast
666k - Retirement plan of the Beast
6.66 % - 5 year CD interest rate at First Beast National
Bank, $666 minimum deposit.
i66686 - CPU of the Beast
666i - BMW of the Beast
DSM-666 - Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the Beast
668 - Next-door neighbor of the Beast

Lawyer Questions

Here's why lawyers should never ask a witness a question if they aren't prepared for the answer:

In a trial, a Southern small town prosecuting attorney called his first witness to the stand - a grandmotherly, older woman. He approached her and asked, "Mrs. Jones, do you know me?"

She responded, "Why, yes I do know you, Mr.Williams. I've known you since you were a young boy, and frankly, you've been a big disappointment to me. You lie, you cheat on your wife, you manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think you're a big shot when you haven't the brains to realize you never will amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you."

The lawyer was stunned. Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, "Mrs. Jones, do you know the defense attorney?"

She again replied, "Why yes, I do. I've known Mr. Bradley since he was a youngster, too. He's lazy, bigotted, and he has a drinking problem. He can't build a normal relationship with anyone, and his law practice is one of the worst in the entire state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women, and one of them was your wife. Yes, I know him."

The defense attorney almost died. The judge asked both counselors to approach the bench, and in a very quiet voice, said, "If either of you bastards asks her if she knows me, I'll throw your sorry asses in jail for contempt."