Opening Teaser You see the basic exterior shot of the Enterprise traveling at impulse spee

* * * Opening Teaser * * * You see the basic exterior shot of the Enterprise traveling at impulse speed. The ship appears to be orbiting a non-descript planet who major land masses have the approximate shape and color of a cat's litter box. Picard's voice: Captain's Log, Stardate 453123.45254. The Enterprise is currently in orbit about the planet Origami IV and is preparing to receive the Imperial Court of Lady Poosbah the Thirteenth, Empress of Origami and Ruler of Significant Portions of the Galaxy. We are transporting the Imperial Party to Waxahatchie VI for a major peace and trade conference with the Canus Locans and thus bring an end to a war that has lasted for centuries and threatened to annihilate all intelligent life in the universe. The scene shifts to the Transporter Room, where we see Picard, Riker, Worf, and Transporter Chief O'Brien standing around looking at the transporter pads. Picard looks bored. Worf looks ready to kill something. O'Brien looks like a competent professional. Riker looks like a smirking idiot. Riker: Sir, Why we are transporting the Empress of Origami to the big peace conference on Waxahatchie VI? We're supposed to be the Federation's finest ship, not an overpriced version of Yellow Cab. Why do we always have to draw these tedious assignments? Worf: I know! I know! It's because of security! The Royal Entourage must be protected from any possible harm, so the Federation decided to use the best ship available to guarantee their safety. Picard: Gee, I hadn't thought of that. Actually, I thought the reason was that the author needed them for some kind of asinine sub-plot. You know what happens whenever a starship named Enterprise transports important ambassadors or other officials. Riker: Yeah, they always get used in some ridiculous sub-plot that has nothing to do with the main story line. Picard: Give the boy a cookie! Worf grabs Riker by the head and begins a sincere attempt to pop his head off his shoulders like you might take the cork off a bottle of cheap champagne. Riker finds the sensation most uncomfortable and begins to flail his arms and thrash madly about. Picard: Stop that! What are trying to do to Riker? Worf: I'm sorry, sir. I apparently misunderstood your command. To Klingons, a "cookie" is a fearsome hand-to-hand combat technique where we try to pop an opponent's head off like you might take the cork off a bottle of cheap champagne. Picard: Well, I can certainly understand the misunderstanding, but that is not what I meant. O'Brien: Sorry to interrupt all this levity sir, but the Imperial Party has signaled that they are ready to beam aboard. Picard: Very well, put on a recording of some cheap martial music and beam them aboard. O'Brien puts on a cassette of the Federation Marine Marching Band playing a version of "We'd Kick Romulan Booty if They'd Only Let Us Fight" and beams the Imperial Party aboard. As the Imperial Party begins to materialize, we several creatures that look like large Siamese house cats take shape. Picard: Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Empress Poosbah. Now that we have your attention riveted to the screen, it's time to role the opening credits. It's the usual stuff with the light on the wrong side of Saturn, which also has a large Century 21 For Sale sign on it. Dr. Pulaski still isn't listed in the opening credits, which no doubt continues to annoy Ms. Muldaur. * * * COMMERCIAL BREAK * * * A kind of hairy looking macho "dude" walks into a drug store and loudly proclaims that he is a truck driver and then begins discussing his hemmerhoid problem with the pharmacist. You are immediately convinced that Madison Avenue is over-populated with the portion of anatomy under discussion. Then MCI and SPRINT try to convince you that they have the cheapest long distance phone rates. Their presentation is rudely interrupted when their logos are blasted to pieces by the AT & T "DeathStar". Honest Al of Honest Al's Used Cars tries to convince you that a bunch of ancient, over-priced, worn out relics represent the finest cars that money can buy. You feel that if you ever shake hands with this guy, you will want to check for missing body parts immediately afterwards. * * * Now, back to our show... * * * The scene shifts to Picard, who is standing behind a console in front of some windows where stars are rapidly fading into the distance, indicating that the Enterprise is traveling at warp speed. He presses a button on the console and says... Picard: Captain's Log, Stardate 36556.432. We have successfully beamed aboard the Origami Royal Entourage and are en route to Waxahatchie VI. We now have a sub-plot, but have not yet determined what this week's plot will be. In the meantime, I have had Engineering modify the bridge conference room to something that will be a little more conducive to contemplation and sensitive discussion of important issues. Picard thumps his chest to engage the communicator and winces in pain. Picard: Will the usual gang of idiots please report to the bridge conference room. The camera shot shifts to show that the table and chairs that used to occupy the bridge conference room have been replaced by a large, bubbling hot tub. The door to the conference room is behind the hot tub. The doors open and the bridge crew starts to enter. Worf glares at everyone and they allow him to enter the room first. Everyone else enters and they all look kind of stunned as they see the hot tub. Riker: Captain, what have you done to the conference room? Picard: Pretty intelligent question for you, eight-ball. Actually, the explanation is quite simple. Since the Enterprise epitomizes the late 20th century California mentality of laid-back patience and tolerance for all different lifestyles no matter how repugnant, I felt that this California style hot tub would be a proper aid to making decisions in a California thinking environment. Pulaski: Great idea! Let's soak Data in there and see if he rusts. Picard gives Pulaski that old "don't irritate me you brassy old bitty" look. Picard: I'd like to invite you all to join me in the hot tub so that we can discuss this week's plot. But first a couple of rules: Rule Number 1, bathing suits or other clothing is of course optional. Rule Number 2, no one is allowed to look at anyone else's submerged body parts. Data [indicating Dr. Pulaski]: Who would want to look at "ol' prune bod", anyway? Picard: Good point, however, I was thinking more of Troi, Worf, and you; Troi because she's decent looking, and you and Worf because your anatomies may be somewhat, shall we say, unique? But we digress. Changing rooms have been provided and I'd like us all to get in the hot tub so that we can try to determine this week's plot. The camera points briefly at the ceiling and you hear the rustling of clothing. The camera view then shifts to show everyone sitting in the hot tub looking laid back, patient, and tolerant. In accordance with Picard's instructions, the camera does not attempt to "peek" below water level. Picard: We are now well into this parody, and still do not have a main plot. Fortunately, I have an idea, which is more than you bunch of useless imbeciles have I'll bet. Troi [giggling]: You obviously haven't been peeking at submerged body parts. Picard flashes her a look of patient and tolerant irritation. Picard: I propose that we determine what color of sangria should be served at these conferences. LaForge: What is sangria? Data: Accessing. Sangria is a popular California beverage consisting of wine, punch, and large pieces of fruit. It is frequently served to guests while sharing a hot tub. It typically is served in one of two colors, either red sangria or white sangria. Riker [with a look of indomitable confusion]: So, what's the big deal about that? How do you propose to get a main plot out of that? Data: Perhaps I can offer insight. The word "sangria" is related to the Spanish word "sangre" which is translated "blood" in English. Thus, would it be more proper to serve the traditional red sangria, as in the color of human blood, or allow the perhaps more popular white sangria to be served? Picard: Exactly! Troi: Captain, isn't that view rather human chauvanistic? Humans are not the only intelligent life forms in the universe that might wish to drink sangria. If in fact the term sangria is supposed to be related to "blood", wouldn't it be more sensitive of us to consider alternatives other than red? After all, Vulcans have green blood. Other races may have other colors of blood. LaForge [Looking at Worf]: Worf, what color is Klingon blood? Worf: A Klingon warrior is not allowed to bleed, so we don't know what color our blood is, if in fact we even have blood. Pulaski: Great; here we go with some more of that macho Klingon warrior buffalo dooky. Worf [to Pulaski]: Dr. Pulaski, would you like a cookie? Picard [sharply, but still sensitively]: Stop it both of you! I think Troi has made an excellent point and we should be able to spend an hour's worth of show time milking this plot in a patient, sensitive, and tolerant manner. Riker: Captain, I think this would make an excellent plot, complete with all kinds of intensely psychological metaphors where we can really explore and come to terms with our own personal feelings and totally devoid of anything resembling action or crisis. Truly you are a patient, sensitive, and kind intelligent being, which the universe should be proud to have created. Pulaski [to Riker]: And truly you are a brown-nosing zit-sucking moron who would be an abomination to your gorgeous hunk of a father if he would ever acknowledge your pitiful existence. LaForge [who would roll his eyes up into his head if he had eyes]: Captain, why don't we begin our study by ordering various colors of sangria while we are in the perfect environment for thoughtful meditation. Picard: Excellent idea, Mr. LaForge! My, we are on a hot track today! Computer, please have Ten-Forward prepare several different colors of Sangria and have it brought to the bridge conference room at once. Computer: Right on, big guy! Catch you on the flip side, baby! The door to the conference opens, and Geneva, the sleazy, lazy maid from the Fox TV show "DUET", walks into the room in her skimpy maid's costume. She is buffing her nails and she is NOT carrying any sangria. Picard: Excuse me, but where is the sangria you were supposed to bring? Geneva: You want me to bring YOU sangria? Like, if I had any, do you think I would share it with a tub full of dingbats? Besides, I'm trying to get ready for a big date. My boyfriend, Slasher, is getting out of the pen today, and he'll get real unhappy if I'm late. If you want sangria, you'll just have to get it yourself, chrome-dome. Geneva turns and walks out the door, while Picard and company sit in the tub, stunned and flabbergasted at her insubordination. * * * COMMERCIAL BREAK * * * A major car manufacturer wants you to buy one of their lousy cars so desperately that they offer several incentives and inducements. You quickly determine that after all the rebates, trade-in allowance, and dealer incentives, they will end up paying you $245.67 per month for taking their car. Next, a bunch of yuppies sit around a dinner table marveling over a new domestic wine produced by a winemaker noted for producing something with the delicate bouquet of high octane gasoline. Like, they expect you to believe that yuppies would drink anything other than imported wine. Honest Al of Honest Al's Furniture City tries to convince you to come on down an buy a cheap dinette or sofa. For only a few dollars more per month, you can "rent to own" instead of purchasing the crummy thing outright. * * * Now, back to our show... * * * Picard: I am having a great deal of difficulty being patient and understanding with such blatant disregard for my authority. Computer, who was that crew member that just left the bridge conference room. Computer: Like, that totally tubular babe isn't a crew member, oh heap big capitan. Riker: Computer, please identify the person that just left the bridge conference room, and please provide her phone number plus a list of any kinky tendencies she might have...[in a much higher pitched voice] OOOUUCCCHHH! Pulaski: Oops, sorry. My knee must have slipped. Data: Commander, was that knee in the groin painful? It certainly looked painful to me. Computer: I, like, really really hate to interrupt this sensitive exchange of social pleasantries, but, like, the babe's name is Geneva. She's, like, the maid from the Fox TV show, "DUET", about these, like, awesome southern California yuppies, ya' know? Picard: Computer, what language is your programming written in? Computer: Oh wow! Like, I've been programmed in Valgol, the most totally awesome to the max language in the universe. Picard: Lt. LaForge, you are ordered to reprogram the computer in a more reasonable language immediately. Computer: Like, gag me with a spoon! Troi: Captain, I am sensing a set of twisted emotions, as though someone would dearly love to barf in this hot tub. Oh, I see that you are sensing the same thing. Picard [looking rather ill and green in the face]: That's it. Everyone out of the tub. We're going to have to defer the plot about sangria to try to get to the bottom of this. The camera conveniently focuses on an interesting part of the ceiling and you hear the sounds of clothing rustling. Someone says, "Here, let me help you with that.", followed by the sound of a hard slap. The camera then moves to the door of the conference room. Pulaski has a large red mark on the side of her face. Picard is looking at her indignantly. The door opens, and everyone files onto the bridge. Worf, of course, is allowed to go first. The camera shifts to a view of the bridge, where we see Worf, Picard, and company enter. A quick glance around shows Wesley sitting at the Navigation console with what looks like an adolescent female on his lap. They appear to be engaged in some kind of adolescent mating ritual in which they each try to suck the other's face off. Picard [sternly, but patiently]: What is going on here? Data: Ensign Crusher appears to be engaged in a ritual known as "making out", necking, petting, sucking face... Picard: I get the point, Data. [To Wesley] By the way, how did you get out of that bulkhead you were beamed into? Wesley: My agent renegotiated my contract, sir. For my part, I must act more like a normal, but sickeningly sweet teenager and will no longer be allowed to save the ship anymore. For the producer's part, Gene has agreed to let me live. Riker: And who is this corrupting influence on your lap? Corrupting Influence: My name is Francesca. Those of you who watch Fox on Sunday night recognize the corrupting influence as Tracey Ullman playing her character Francesca, the teenage daughter of a gay father who lives with his lover. You also realize that Tracey Ullman is not a teenager, but a married woman in her late twenties. Picard: Wait a minute, here. Aren't you Tracey Ullman and aren't you a married woman in your late twenties, and don't you have your own show on Fox on Sunday nights? Tracey: Yes to all of the above. Riker: What are you doing on the bridge of the Enterprise, making out with a kid that could get you five to ten years in the penitentary for corrupting a minor, if we weren't such a patient and tolerant civilization? Tracey: What do you mean? Isn't this the set for one of my outrageous skits? How did I get here? Troi: Captain, she is genuinely confused. She doesn't know how she got here. As everyone is busy pondering this new development, the turbolift door opens and Al, Peg, Kelli, and Bud Bundy from Fox's family sitcom, "Married, With Children", walk onto the bridge. Al Bundy: Look kids, this is the bridge of the Enterprise! See, if we all had decent agents, we could've landed jobs on a real show with a real special effects budget and everything. Just think, no more shoe salesman jokes and no more jokes about my pathetic salary. Peg Bundy: Oh Al, look! Normal, healthy, vibrant men, pulsing and oozing raw masculinity. Al Bundy: No Peg, they're pulsing and oozing their insides out after having had a good look at you. Bud: Mom, Dad, we need food. And Kelli needs a cure for some of her more shall we say, interesting, social diseases. Kelli: Well, pizza-face, they may call me Bimbo and they may call me Slut, but at least they call. The turbolift door opens again and Alf enters the bridge. Alf: Wow! This is really neat! A spaceship on a show with a real special effects budget! Boy, I'm hungry! You wouldn't happen to have any cats on board would you? Troi: Captain, I am sensing the presence of several readers of this parody. They all seem to be greatly amused at our situation, sir. Picard: Can it, Troi. Worf, please arrange for quarters for Ms. Ullman. Everyone else who is on this show but isn't supposed to be, your nutritional needs can easily be handled by the computer in the bridge conference room. Picard points to the door to the bridge conference room and the Bundy's and Alf all enter. The door closes behind them. Everyone is then startled by the report of an anonymous crewmember. Anonymous crewmember: Captain, this is an anonymous crewmember. You'd better get down to Shuttle Bay 3. We have a large number of unidentified intruders on board. * * * COMMERCIAL BREAK * * * A couple of smiling yuppies attempt to amuse you while discussing the "crunchy" merits of Grape Nuts cereal. A cute argument breaks out about whether Grape Nuts "taste great" or are "less filling". The argument only ends because our cutesy couple realizes they are doing the wrong commercial. By now, you've seen so many cute yuppie commercials that you feel that a declaration of war against cute yuppies is inevitable. Next, a picture of a Big Mac is shown while some opera singer sings "Big Mac". This is followed by a rousing chorus of "ninety-nine cents". Honest Al of Honest Al's Real Estate tries to sell you some land that looks suspiciously like either swamp land or a toxic waste dump. This is followed by a short newsbreak where the announcer tells us about a recent fire-bombing at McDonald's corporate headquarters by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Opera from Cheap Endorsements. * * * Now, back to our show... * * * Picard: Captain's log, stardate 956907.2435. The Enterprise has recently experienced a rather strange phenomena where characters from other TV shows have begun to appear on board the ship. We have reason to believe that the situation is intensifying. All of the first characters were from shows appearing on Fox stations. The most recent one to appear is the character Alf, from an NBC show. We have not yet determined the cause of these occurrences, but will do so in a patient and sensitive manner at the earliest opportunity. On the positive side, our sub-plot involving the Royal Origami Entourage is developing quite nicely. One member of the royal party has been confirmed to be missing, and at least two others are overdue at their quarters. Picard [to Worf]: Lt. Worf, have a security team meet us a Shuttle Bay 3. Troi, Data, come with us. Riker, you have the bridge. LaForge, see if you can pinpoint the cause of these disturbances. Pulaski: Don't you want me to do something? Picard: Yes. Pulaski, eat vacuum and die. Dr. Pulaski looks indignant. Picard, Worf, Troi, and Data enter the turbolift. The scene shifts to another deck where we see the turbolift doors open and we see Picard, Worf, Troi, and Data emerge. You hear the sound of a loud saxophone playing a hauntingly familiar melody, like the theme for a popular TV show. Picard and party leave the turbolift and proceed down the hall toward Shuttle Bay 3 where they are joined by two gold-uniformed crewmembers. One crewmember is wearing the label "Expendable" and the other is labeled "Dead Meat". Picard: Alright, let's open the door and see what we have. The door to the shuttle bay opens and the camera shifts to the inside of the shuttle bay. We see a large sound stage and several mikes and TV cameras. A large number of people are sitting in chairs facing the sound stage. A number of strange looking individuals are seated on the sound stage. The sax is still playing loudly. A slender looking black woman who looks like she might have been kind of "hefty" at one time walks out onto the stage. The audience claps and the saxophone stops playing. Oprah Winfrey: Welcome to the Oprah Winfrey show. The audience claps madly. Oprah Winfrey [pointing to her guests on the stage]: Today we are going to discuss the problems of One-legged Gay Zombies who are addicted to Rigellian slime-worm juice. The audience claps madly. Picard becomes violently ill. "Expendable" grabs his head and falls to the floor and dies. "Dead Meat" grabs her mid-section, doubles over, falls to the deck, and joins the recently departed "Expendable" in the hereafter (she died, okay?). Picard, Worf, Data, and Troi all leave the shuttle bay and Picard quickly closes the door. Picard: Whatever that was, it was unbearable. Worf: For the first time in my life as a courageous Klingon warrior, I have experienced terror. Troi: What was that anyway? Data: That was a talk show. Worf: What is a talk show? Data: A talk show is a television show where a host convenes a number of experts to discuss a topic of varying degrees of relevancy. The audience watches either out of morbid curiosity or in order to feel pity for the less fortunate. After an hour, everyone feels so much better for having talked about the issue, but without having to really do anything about it. Occasionally, talk shows have celebrity guests who shamelessly use the show as to plug upcoming shows, movies, or books. Picard: Abominable! Except of course for the part about the celebrity guests. Worf: By the way, how is your new book "First Officer, Dearest" doing? Picard: Forget that. We have real trouble here. Have a security team seal off Shuttle Bay 3. Whatever the cost, don't let anyone out of there. Troi: Captain, this is uncharacteristically intolerant of you. Picard [to Troi]: Look, this is no time for patience or tolerance or sensitivity. If we let those people out of there, we could wind up killing everyone on board this ship. Dead actors don't draw paychecks, know what I mean? Picard is interrupted by a silver-haired guy walking down the hall toward the shuttle bay. The silver-haired guy is stripped to the waist. His chest is well oiled and flexed and he is carrying a large automatic weapon with two bandoliers full of ammunition strapped across his chest. In spite of this super-macho get-up, he still looks like a wimp. Donahue [muttering]: ...steal my one-legged gay zombies, will she? Beat me half to death in the ratings, will she? I'll fix HER little red wagon REAL GOOD! Close on his heels is another guy with a large mouth, lots of teeth, and chain smoking 16 cigarettes simultaneously. Morton Downey, Jr. [to Phil Donahue]: You PABLUM-PUKING, GUTLESS, LIBERAL WIMP! This causes an outburst of tears on the part of Phil. Morton Downey, Jr.: Zip it, Universe! Picard: Excuse me gentlemen, but I believe you are both wanted down the hall in Shuttle Bay 3. Donahue [muttering and bawling]: All I ever wanted was to have a nice talk show where I could insidiously instill liberal ideals into the general populance and at the same time make heaping large piles of money... Donahue is rudely interrupted by Morton Downey, Jr., who grabs him by the throat and starts slapping him around and dragging him down the hallway to Shuttle Bay 3. Morton Downey, Jr.: YOU SHUT UP, YOU SLIME-SUCKING LIBERAL PIMP! Picard and crew watch them as they proceed down the hall with Morton Downey, Jr. dragging Phil Donahue by the neck and slapping him around. Worf: Amazing. All this time we Klingons thought we were the only race that knew how to give a good cookie. As they turn around, they encounter yet another talk show host. Geraldo Rivera: Hello viewers. Today, I'm on board the starship Enterprise where a number of famous talk show hosts have already gathered. Our topic? We are going behind the scenes to see the real story behind talk shows. Are they all hype and no substance? Is it fake or are these real people? Do talk shows ever really set someone up to look foolish? Does anyone really care about the issues and topics under discussion? Troi: Captain, I feel an overwhelming urge to bust this bozo across the face with a chair. Troi then sees a nearby chair, conveniently left there by a lazy stagehand, so she picks up the chair and then busts Geraldo across the face, breaking his nose in at least six places. Geraldo: This, ladies and gentlemen, is the kind of journalistic integrity that makes this job worthwhile. Notice and admire how I can bear the intense pain and stay on the air to fulfill my high calling as a journalist of the highest calibre... Picard: Excuse me. I hate to interrupt this self-adulation, but I think they are giving an award to the Journalist of the Highest Calibre in the Entire Universe down this hallway in Shuttle Bay 3. Geraldo: Surely they are looking for me. Geraldo proceeds down the hallway toward Shuttle Bay 3. Troi: THAT felt good! I wish Dr. Pulaski was here and I had another carelessly misplaced chair available. This intense feeling of patient and sensitive personal gratification is rudely interrupted by a familiar voice over the ship's intercom. Riker: Captain, we have more unexpected guests on the bridge. Picard: I'm on my way. * * * COMMERCIAL BREAK * * * The station offers a teaser for a new sitcom about a widow from Tennessee with 15 kids who gets elected to the US Senate and moves to Washington D.C. There she attempts to run the country, hires an alien from outer space for a house- keeper, tries to find a meaningful relationship with a series of men chosen from a pool of shallow, obnoxious male lobbyists, all the while trying to keep her fun-loving, drug-dealing children from getting shot to pieces in "crack house" wars. The name of this delightful looking new show is "Ms. Melba goes to Washington". If the teaser is not bad enough, the announcer uses the phrase "zany misadventures", leading you to the inevitable conclusion that this new show is a major nuclear bomb. Bartyles and James are sitting on their porch and announce a new product line of athletic underwear. Now you get to thank them for their support! [Author's note: That was terrible, but I couldn't resist.] Honest Al of Honest Al's Financial Planning Service tries to convince you that he has the experience necessary to prudently invest your money. The implication seems to be that he will turn your money into his money and provide you with considerable "experience" in return. * * * Now, back to our show... * * * The scene: The bridge of the Enterprise. Riker, LaForge, and Wesley are present. Your keen eyes notice that the Huxtable family is also there. The turbolift doors open and Picard, Worf, Troi, and Data enter the bridge. Picard [looking at Vannessa and Rudy Huxtable]: Children! On my Bridge! Worf: Shall I set phasors on "kill" and eliminate them, Captain? Cliff Huxtable: Isn't this marvelous? Here we are on the bridge of the starship Enterprise. [He looks at Claire and smiles that extra sweet smile for her.] Claire: Yes, Cliffy-poo, it is marvelous. Theo: Do we get paid for this guest appearance? We got a union, ya' know. Cliff: Kids! All they ever think about is money, money, money. Claire: I know. Isn't it adorable? Picard: Excuse me. I hate to interrupt this sweet scene of family togetherness, but who are you people and how did you get here? Cliff: We're the Huxtable family from the number one show on television, "The Cosby Show". We can do good things for your ratings, you know. The turbolift doors open and Alf enters, wearing a napkin tied around his neck and carrying a knife and a fork. Alf: Here kitty, kitty! Oh Empress Poosbah, won't you please join me for dinner? Alf enters the bridge conference room and the doors shut behind him. Riker: The allegedly humorous sub-plot is developing quite nicely don't you think? Picard: Troi, can you sense anything? Troi: Yes, Captain. I'm sensing a number of readers of this parody who are going to respond to the author of this parody and request his US Mail address so that they can send him large quantities of money in return for his having brought a moment of brightness to their otherwise ordinary existence. Picard: No, you idiot. I mean on the ship or in space around us. Troi: Nah, just the usual struggles for patience, tolerance, and sensitivity on the part of the main cast members. Picard [to the Huxtables]: Would you mind waiting over there in the bridge conference room while we try to get this straightened out. The Huxtables all enter the bridge conference room. As they are leaving, the turbolift doors open and four older women enter the bridge. Rose Nyland: Gee, Dorothy, is this the bridge of the starship Enterprise? Dorothy Zabornack: No Rose, it's a new deli that recently opened in your home town of St. Olaf, Minnesota. Rose: I don't recall that this week's show was supposed to be set in St. Olaf. Isn't this exciting? Sophia opens her mouth and makes motions like she is sticking her figure down her throat and puking her guts out. Blanche Devereaux: This is great! I now have a new opportunity to go into my over-sexed, middle-aged broad routine, and talk about my perky bosums and heaving, panting chest. Maybe I'll work on Captain Picard. Sophia: Please Blanche, this is a science fiction show, not Fantasy Island! Picard: Excuse me ladies, but would you mind waiting in the observation lounge for a while? As soon as we clear up this little problem, we'll have you all back on your regular show. Mr. Data will escort you. Blanche walks over to Data, slips her arm into his, and then reaches up and begins nibbling on his ear. Blanche [with a demur, southern accent]: Ah hear that yew are "fully functional"? How would you like to have the experience of a life-time? Sophia: What is this show? A thousand and one perverted things you can do with machinery? Data and the Golden Girls enter the turbolift. As the turbolift doors close, the doors to the Captain's Ready Room open and four more women enter the bridge. You recognize them as the cast of Designing Women. Suzanne Sugarbaker: So this is what a starship looks like. Pretty dreary if you ask me. Do you people have any beauty contests or anything like that so that I can win one or just act my usual childish and insipid self? Mary Jo: Who did the decorating here anyway? Somebody obviously doesn't know the first thing about color or how to properly use space. Charlene: Did ya ever have one of those dreams where ya think yore in another time and place and yore surrounded by incompetent but sensitive boobs (not meanin' a part of my anatomy of course), and the leader is balder than a cue ball? [Looks at Picard] Well, I'm having one of those dreams right this very instant. Julia Sugarbaker: Charlene, shut up. Mary Jo, get a furniture catalog and some material samples and we'll see what we can do with this decorating disaster of a starship bridge. Picard: Interior Decorators! On My Ship! On My Bridge! This is getting absurd! Get these people off my bridge immediately! LaForge: Ladies, excuse me, but I think the Captain would like to start with the observation deck. If you will bring your samples and follow me I'll show you the way. Mary Jo: You need a different color hair band over your eyes there; maybe something in a chartruese with a pink highlight... Geordi and the Designing Women leave the bridge. An anonymous crewmember makes a report over the intercom. Anonymous Crewmember: Captain Picard, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles have been spotted on deck 6, sir. Riker: Captain, this is getting worse. We've entered the animation zone. Troi, do you sense anything at all yet? Troi: Yes, I sense the presence of an amused Paramount executive who is so impressed by this parody that she will offer the author a job with a large, six-figure salary to come to Hollywood and write scripts for our show. Picard: Shut up, both of you. This situation is getting out of control. What could possibly go wrong next? As if on cue, the turbolift doors open and Pulaski enters the bridge. Pulaski: Captain Picard, I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you. * * * COMMERCIAL BREAK * * * Two guys walk up to a bar and one of them says "Gimme a light.". A Ferengi left over from last season pulls out a phasor and blasts the guy's face off. His buddy says, "Cute, but he wanted a Bud Light." This produces a hearty round of laughter from all of the other bar patrons [yes, I know, it's a re-run. But I thought it was kind of cute the first time.]. A couple of slimey-looking lawyers who've clearly become too fat and lazy to engage in the time-honored practice of ambulance chasing, now use television to offer to sue anybody in the entire world for any reason at all provided you give them a "generous" split of the settlement. Honest Al of Honest Al's Income Tax Preparation Service offers to generate more standard deductions than anyone could possibly ever account for to save you money on your income tax. * * * Now, back to our show... * * * The camera shows a shot of the bridge. The turbolift doors open and LaForge and Data both enter. Pulaski is there waiting with her report. Picard: What is it, Dr. Pulaski? Pulaski: I have some rather bad news. An unexpected number of women on this ship have suddenly turned up pregnant. Picard: Any particular cause? Pulaski: What do you think, dorkbrain? Great Leapin' Zeeps! No wonder you can't keep a girlfriend. That certainly explains why you blew that scene with Dr. Crusher in that cheap ST:TOS ripoff, "The Naked Now". Picard: I find it difficult to tolerant this kind of insubordination on the part of a Starfleet medical officer. Pulaski: Listen, billiard brains, don't even think of messing with me. I can relieve you of your command. [Pulaski begins to cackle like she just may have crossed the line into insanity]. I can relieve you all! Worf: A Klingon warrior is capable of relieving himself. Troi: Captain, I am sensing the presence of an actress with a large ego who is also a bit miffed about not having her name listed in the real opening credits for this show. [Looking directly at Pulaski while making several obscene and insulting Betazoid gestures] I wonder who that could be? Worf slaps Pulaski, knocking her unconscious. He looks at a couple of "blue shirts" conveniently labeled "Gofer #1" and "Gofer #2". Worf: Carry her down to sick bay and maybe I'll give you guys a cookie later. The "blue shirts" pick up the unconscious but surprisingly cooperative Pulaski and carry her into the turbolift. Picard: I don't understand what is happening here? Where are all these characters coming from? Why are all these women pregnant? Worf: Captain, I believe I may have an answer. I ran a security scan on the ship and have detected a large number of unidentified male lifeforms. Computer analysis indicates that these are cast members from a type of TV show known as a soap opera. We have human males from shows such as "Guiding Sleaze", "The Young and Sleazy", "The Sleaze of Our Lives", and "As the Stomach Churns". Riker: What's a soap opera? Data: Accessing. A soap opera is a form of daytime entertainment in which a large number of male and female characters who typically have too much money and leisure time pursue new degrees of personal misery. Every relationship on the show must be firmly founded upon deceit and secret treacheries that will ultimately ruin the lives of all the characters. It is also the goal of every character to eventually sleep with every character of the opposite gender on the show. Picard: Then why all of these pregnancies? After all, we have ways sensitive tolerant methods for birth control available in this century. Data: An important characteristic of sexual activity in soap operas is that every one-night stand or cheap sexual encounter outside of marriage must ultimately result in an unwanted pregnancy. This is a useful plot device that is shamelessly milked by the shows' writers. Riker: Well, that explains it. A bunch of male soap opera stars with over- active libidos wind up on the "Starship of Horny Women" and, bingo, instant baby factory. I wonder if there are any female soap operas stars on board? This discussion is interrupted by another anonymous crewmember on the over- head speaker. Anonymous Crewmember: Anonymous Crewmember here. We have a bunch of dead women and expended phasors in Shuttle Bay 1. A security scan has identified these women as female soap opera stars. Apparently, they have committed mass suicide. Riker: I wonder why they did that? Data: I have a speculation sir. Apparently these female soap opera characters have discovered that for them, the Enterprise is also "the Starship of Functioning Eunuchs". Faced with the inability to fulfill their primary function, they have all blown their brains out with phasors. Worf: I'll bet they didn't need a lot of phasor power for that. Picard: Enough! First we deal with the simple problem of all those pregnancies. After we get this mess cleared up, we'll just return to the nearest star base and unload all of those babies. Data: I'm afraid it's not that simple sir. The average soap opera new-born is the equivalent of a normal, nine month old child. They also age rapidly so that in a matter of a few weeks, we will have pre-school children, followed soon after by elementary school children, then followed by the most terrifying life form in the known universe... Worf: Junior High school children!!!! Picard: Children? On my ship? Eating all of the ship's food? Writing graffiti on the ship's walls? I won't have it! We've got to do something! Worf: There is only one solution, we must abort the fetuses immediately. Riker: Are you crazy? That would require us to take a stand on a moral issue. Either way we go on that one, we will incur the wrath of the viewers, something our sensitive, patient, and tolerant natures will never survive. LaForge: There has to be something we can do. Data: Actually, there is one other characteristic of soap operas that we might be able to take advantage of. Picard: What's that? Data: It's really quite simple. In any soap opera pregnancy, if the male- female relationship ever seems to be stabilizing into a permanent, stable family relationship, the pregnancy will result in a miscarriage in over 95% of the cases. Picard: Meaning? Data: If the couple loves each other or otherwise decide to get married, they almost invariably lose the child so that more havoc can be created in the relationship. Just as this discussion is getting underway, the turbolift doors open and three decrepit looking guys, two of which have kind of greasy looking hair and the other wearing a knit cap, enter the bridge. Larry: Hi, I'm Larry and this is my brother Darryl and this is my other brother Darryl. We were on our way to a rollicking good lard fight in the local swamp when suddenly we were sucked onto the Enterprise. Would this be an appropriate time and place for us to continue? Riker: Not really, but if you will go to Shuttle Bay 3, I'm sure you will find lots of willing participants. Larry, Darryl, and Darryl exit the bridge. Crockett and Tubbs enter carrying large, dangerous looking pistols. Crockett: I'm Sonny Crockett and this is my partner Rico Tubbs and this is my other partner Rico Tubbs [and then chuckles modestly over this weak attempt to bring a little humor to the situation]. Tubbs: You guys are probably wondering what we are doing here. That's easy, we're looking for drug dealers. Crockett: Yeah, we've done killed every drug dealer in Miami, and then killed every drug dealer in South America, and finally the entire planet Earth, and never once was our cover blown, neither. Tubbs: So now its time to clean up the universe. Data: Go to Shuttle Bay 3. There are all kinds of dope-heads waiting for you there. Crockett and Tubbs exit, followed almost immediately by a loud shout of "Die, cocaine-sucking drug dealers!" and several loud gunshots. Larry re-enters the bridge carrying two bodies. Larry: Hi, I'm Larry and this is my dead brother Darryl and this is my other dead brother Darryl. Barney Miller, Dietrich, and Harris enter the bridge. Miller: What's going on here? Harris, take Dietrich and go investigate those two goons with the guns. Data: Captain, this is getting more serious. Barney Miller is currently in syndication. If we've actually crossed over into the syndication zone, then we will positively encounter the most popular syndicated show of all time. Riker: Star Trek: The Original Series! Data: Correct. Before we have time to carry this tedious looking plot line any further, the voice of an anonymous crewmember thankfully interrupts us. Anonymous Crewmember: Captain, an anonymous crewmember here. We seem to have a real knockdown, dragout fist fight in progress between Al Bundy and Cliff Huxtable in Ten-Forward. Another Anonymous crewmember chimes in with another report portending disaster. Another Anonymous Crewmember: Captain, we have four old bitties claiming to be the Golden Girls duking it out with four cheap imitators claiming to be Designing Women in the observation lounge. As if this isn't enough, the bridge is suddenly rocked by a poorly coreographed "bridge lurch" where part of the cast lurches left, part lurches right, and LaForge doesn't lurch at all. * * * COMMERCIAL BREAK * * * A teaser for a new horror film specifically aimed at teenagers with too much money and too little taste comes on. The teaser promises dismember bodies, lots of blood and innards, and a supernatural being, with all the action taking place on a holiday. Chi-Chi's gives you a commercial that tries to convince you that Real Mexican food consists of ground beef fried with onions, wrapped in a dried out corn tortilla, and covered with tasteless brown gravy. It somehow reminds you of the ad for the horror film. Honest Al of Honest Al's Legal Services offers to provide basic legal services including their famous five dollar will that allows them to inherit your entire meager estate. * * * Now, back to our show... * * * The camera shows the bridge of the Enterprise. Another "bridge lurch" happens. This time most everybody lurches to the right except LaForge, who lurches left. Worf leaps over a couple of tumbled chairs and slaps Geordi on the back of the head. Worf: Get it right fool! LaForge: You think it's easy to see the director's lurch cues through a hair band? Picard: What in blazes was that? Worf: Sensors show that these spasms are centered in the gymnasium. LaForge [in his best Scottish brogue]: Keptin, th' hull canna take mooch more of this poundin'! LaForge looks shocked at what he just said. Everyone else looks shocked too. Riker: Get a security team down there on the double to find out what's going on and get it stopped. Worf and the security team exit the bridge. Picard: Scotty, er LaForge, have you determined the cause of this phenomena? LaForge [using the Scottish brogue]: Keptin, thar's noothin' in sensor range thet kin explain it, nor any malfoonction in th' ship's systems to account fer it. Data: Have you considered the possibility that all of the TVs shows have been scrambled together on either the satellite uplink or downlink? LaForge: Aye, boot Ah sent e-mail to Mr. Video and he asshoored me tha' sooch a thing was na' poosible. Worf's voice [on the intercom]: Captain, I've located the source of the disturbance. Roseanne Barr and her TV husband were engaged in Bonjovian Love Wrestling in the gymnasium. Data: Pretty heavy stuff, dudes (and laughs at his continuing efforts to understand humor). Worf voice: We had to use 14 phasors set on stun, but we finally got them sedated. Picard is beginning to lose it. Picard: Maybe I can find someone to surrender to. And if not, I'll just have to destroy the ship. Where's Riker at anyway? Riker ducks behind a nearby bulkhead. Wesley: I think Commander Riker is on B deck sir. Troi: Captain, I'm also sensing someone who you can surrender to on deck 12, sir. Picard leaves the bridge. Riker comes out from behind the bulkhead. Riker: We have to get this stuff under control and then find out what's going on. Okay, first we solve the problem of all those pregnancies. [slaps his chest to engage the communicator]. Lt. Worf? Worf's voice: Here, commander. Riker: Proceed to Holodeck 1, no make that Holodeck 2 -- we're using Holodeck 1 a little later for a commercial -- and set up a generic wedding chapel. Then round up all those male soap opera stars and all those pregnant women, and get them married off to each other. Worf: What if I encounter some resistance? Riker: Hold a fully charged phasor to the back of their heads. This is an old Earth marriage custom that everyone will understand. Worf: Aye Aye, Commander. Riker: Okay, now LaForge. Open the door to Shuttle Bay 3 where all of those virulent talk show people are. LaForge: Door is now open and force-field is engaged. Riker [winking]: Gee, wouldn't it be tragic if something were to go wrong with the force field in Shuttle Bay 3 and all of those useless whining dirtbags were accidently exposed to interstellar vacuum and flushed out into deep space? LaForge catches on to the hint, hits a couple of buttons, and we hear a slightly audible "whoosh". LaForge: Oops! Commander Riker, sir, A terrible tragedy has occurred in Shuttle Bay 3 and we have accidently exposed all those poor schmucks to interstellar vacuum. Riker: Not nice, Mr. LaForge. I'll expect a full report sometime before you reach retirement age on exactly what went wrong and how this kind of senseless tragedy can be prevented in the future. Okay, now that the immediate problems are handled, let's get to the big issue here, namely what is causing these disturbances and what can we do to fix it before James T. Kirk shows up and decisively solves the problem for us. Troi, do you sense anything yet? Troi: Yes. I sense the presence of an author who has clearly gotten too carried away with this parody business and who may have an over-active but otherwise dull fantasy life. LaForge: Surely this sub-plot line is getting pretty lame. Data: I'll say. He'll be lucky to get into Shappe's or Lynch's spoiler reviews with this stuff. Riker: That's not important now. And stop calling me Shirley. Any thoughts, Data? Data: Well, we know it's not a natural phenomena, nor does it appear to be any kind of known weapon, nor is there anything wrong with the ship. I believe there is only one possibility. Riker: And that is? Data: Some kind of super-being, sir. As if on cue, the lights on the bridge dim suddenly and a voice echos throughout the bridge. Voice: That's right, kiddos! Give the man a cookie! Data: No! Not that! I'm sure glad that Worf wasn't here to hear that! Talk about scary! I'm even using contractions! A bright light flashes and we hear an sound like a loud "sproing". The bridge lights come back up to normal and we see Steve Bochco, one of the producers of "LA Law" and several other hit TV shows standing on the bridge, smiling. Riker: Who are you supposed to be? Bochco: I am Generic Super Being, or GSB for short. Riker: Are you the one who is responsible for all of these wierdo characters from other shows being on this ship? If so, why? GSB: Indeed I am and the reason is obvious. You on the Enterprise have the entire Universe at your disposal for a source of plots, and yet I can generate more excitement and drama in a show about a bunch of self- indulgent, yuppie LA lawyers or a show about some bozo cops in San Francisco. Troi: So what's your point? GSB: Isn't it obvious? Show after show you clods cruise through the universe on a one-way trip to a sensitive understanding of every life form in the universe, no matter how absolutely hostile the life form is, always accepting their depredations with patience and tolerance. What are you going to do if you encounter something really nasty? Smile and have a group therapy session? Do you remember the parody that had one of those creatures from ALIENS in it? Troi: We seem to recall that, yes. GSB: Do you know what was the most outstanding characteristic about it? It was terribly short! While you clowns were admiring the beauty of the lifeform and trying to patiently understand it's needs, the ALIEN wiped out your whole crew in about five minutes flat. If we ever have to televise that show, you're going to have to come up with 55 minutes of advertising. Riker: Alright, enough is enough. We are out of patience and tolerance. I must insist that you cease this activity immediately or I will be forced to call you a name. GSB [making gestures and sounds that can only be interpreted as rude]: I don't have to stop or even leave until you ask me the the single greatest unanswered question in the universe. Riker: Why, that's absolutely stoopid. Who ever heard of such a thing? Troi: So what do you want to do, Riker, rip off another plot from ST:TOS? Besides, we're running out of time here and have to quickly wrap this show up in some trite, convenient way. Riker: Fine. So who wants to ask the first question? Data: I have one. If three charmed pi-mesons and a neutron collide in the middle of delta ray chamber and engage in illegal or immoral activities, what happens to the resulting loss of binding energy? GSB: That's S-O-O-O trivial. Why nothing! It becomes a groonton and an anti- groonton. These two particles in turn marry, move to the nuclear suburbs, and have 1.8 quarks. Data: I'm afraid he may be right sir. That one has stumped the finest Federation physicists for over 30 years. Troi: Okay, I've got one. Why is it that every super-being we meet is devoid of patience, tolerance, and sensitivity, in short, traits we have come to value? GSB: Translation, why are there no "wimp" super-beings? You guys are unreal. No life form that exhibits wimpiness to the degree that you do has survived long enough to make to to super-being status. If they aren't smart enough to take care of themselves, they get nuked long before they get there. Wesley: May I ask a question? Riker: Why not; we're running out of time anyway. Wesley: Okay, why is a no-account actor like Corbin Bernson a star? GSB furrows his brow and begins to sweat profusely. GSB: I, I, don't know why. OH NO! He's asked the question! GSB begins to moan and thrash about, and also begins to fade. GSB: Why *IS* Corbin Bernson a star... Riker: Congratulations, Wesley, you've saved the ship again. For that, you will receive a cookie. Wesley: Gee thanks, Commander. Can I have a chocolate chip one? Riker [winking at the rest of the crew]: You can have whatever kind Mr. Worf can give you. * * * COMMERCIAL BREAK * * * This is a special commercial for all of you who love ST:TNG and especially for you fans of the Holodeck. Riker, Troi, LaForge, Worf, and Data are standing outside the doors of Holodeck 1, waiting to enter. Announcer: The Holodeck and Old Milwaukee Beer both mean something great to these guys... The camera shifts to the inside of the Holodeck where we see what appears to be a dank, dark dungeon. Inside the dungeons are tables to which small children, little old ladies, and small helpless animals are strapped. Moving among these defenseless creatures and torturing them most mercilessly are a bunch of Borgs, Ferengi, Romulans, and Dr. Pulaski. Announcer: The Holodeck means a chance to escape from their tolerant, patient, sensitive, mundane, and otherwise boring non-violent existences... The doors to the holodeck open and Riker and company burst into the dungeon. All are wearing army fatigue pants, tank top shirts, bandannas tied around their heads, bandoliers of ammo across their chests, belts full of knives and stuff, and are carrying assault phasors and swords. Announcer: ...and engage in a rousing good game of "Space Rambos from Alterion Seven!" Riker and crew begin to blast, hack, slash, whack, pound, fry, and otherwise do bodily harm to the Borgs, Ferengi, Romulans, and Dr. Pulaski. Data in particular seems to be enjoying committing a variety of acts of aggression on Dr. Pulaski's personal body. Unfortunately for some of the small children, little old ladies, and small helpless animals, they get caught in the crossfire as well, but what the heck, nobody ever promised that being a hostage was a fun proposition, did they? Announcer: And Old Milwaukee means the finest beer that money could buy if we even used money in the 23rd century! The camera shifts to the usual scene of hands reaching into refrigerators and coolers and extracting and opening cans of beer. The camera then shifts back to the dungeon scene where we see Riker, Troi, LaForge, Worf, and Data all lying down amidst a bunch of empty and crushed beer cans. All five have greatly bloated bellies and seem to be sleeping off a three day drunk. Riker opens his painful looking bloodshot eyes, raises his head slightly, and says... Riker: B-B-B-U-U-U-R-R-R-P-P-P-!-!-! It jus' doeshn't gitanybetter'n thish rat cheer! The commercial closes with the usual Old Milwaukee jingle. This commercial is followed by a newsbreak announcing the recent arrest of Honest Al of Honest Al's Enterprises on charges of racketeering, insider trading, embezzlement, extortion, and having the sorriest commercials ever written. * * * Now, back to our show... * * * The scene is the transporter room. Many of the guest characters are stepping up onto the transporter pads and are being transported to some place else. Picard, Riker, Data, and Pulaski are watching as O'Brien does the honors at the transporter control station. In the line waiting to be transported you can see the Golden Girls, the Huxtable family, a rather surly looking Crockett and Tubbs, Larry and the two dead Darryls, and Designing Women. Picard's voice: Captain's Log, Stardate 31415.962. The Enterprise has once again successfully dealt in a patient and understanding manner with a superior being who has all the admirable qualities of Attila the Hun. Having resolved the discontinuity in the TV channel continuum, we are now beaming characters back to their proper shows. On a side note, Alf has eaten the entire Origami royal party, which means that the Empress Poosbah will not be attending the peace conference on Waxahatchie IV. Unfortunately, the interstellar war between Origami and Canus Locus will continue. Also, the Origami-kitties have declared war on Alf's home planet of Melmac. These two wars will probably devastate several major planets in that sector of the the galaxy. However, through patience and understanding plus our undying respect for the Prime Rib Directive, the Federation should be able to help resolve the conflict before too many billions of intelligent life forms are obliterated. Riker [in a low, conspiratorial voice]: Captain, I have something I'd like to discuss with you. Picard: What is it, you backstabbing, upstaging, show stealing, maggot groveling dorkbrain? Riker: It's about Dr. Pulaski. Picard: The "Iron Butterfly"? Riker: Right. Look, last season we had Dr. Crusher, who was supposed to be some kind of female love interest for you. While she wasn't too bad looking, she lacked a certain amount of, shall we say, "brashness" and couldn't really bring any conflict to the part. Now this season, we get an extremely, shall we say "opinionated" Pulaski, but who could believe that she could ever be a love interest for any human life form? Picard: So what are you proposing? Riker: We need a new female doctor, a real 80's kind of lady. You know, kind of "classy, but brassy". In short, we need Julia Sugarbaker from Designing Women. Picard: I see your point. How do you propose that we get rid of Pulaski? Riker: Leave that to me. [Nods to Data]. Data: Dr. Pulaski, I have something here that I would like to show you. Pulaski walks over to Data, who is holding a hand phasor from ST:TOS. Pulaski: What do you want, tin man? Data: I have here something that you might recognize, a hand phasor from the original Star Trek TV series. You may recognize it from one of your guest appearances on that show. Data and Pulaski walk off camera. Picard kind of watches them go around a nearby corner. Riker stands there and smirks. Data's voice: This hand phasor has an interesting characteristic that our current "dustbuster" phasors don't have; it is capable of disintegrating anything that the energy beam strikes. Here, allow me to demonstrate. You hear the sound of an ST:TOS phasor being fired. Pulaski's voice: GACK!!! Y-Y-Y-A-A-A-A-A-H-H-H !!!!!!!!! Data walks our from behind the corner, carrying the hand phasor, but not accompanied by Pulaski. Data: Captain Picard, Commander Riker, I am afraid that I must report a most unfortunate accident. Riker interrupts. Riker: How clumsy of you, Mr. Data. I'm afraid that I shall have to give you a severe tongue lashing. Please see me in Ten-Forward in two hours where we shall have a drunken brawl in celebration, I mean mourning, for the recently deceased. Picard: Shouldn't we investigate this accident further? Riker: We can't, there's no corpse for an autopsy. Sir, I suggest that the patient, sensitive, and understanding thing to do is to recognize that Data meant well, but accidents will happen. We mustn't damage the confidence of an otherwise fine StarFleet officer. Picard: Quite right, Number 1. Now let's go meet our new doctor. Picard, Riker, and Dr. Sugarbaker all exit the transporter room. Dr. Sugarbaker is talking and her voice slowly fades down the hallway. Dr. Sugarbaker: ...really, with a little paint and a few appropriate wall hangings, why we could make a first rate environment for everyone on this ship. By the way, Captain, did I tell you that last night I programmed myself to dream about your personal space?... * * * * THE END * * * *