From murdoch!uvaarpa!darwin.sura.net!ra!kingjames.nrl.navy.mil!james Tue Nov 17 15:14:56 EST 1992 Article: 17978 of rec.arts.startrek.current Newsgroups: rec.arts.startrek.current Path: murdoch!uvaarpa!darwin.sura.net!ra!kingjames.nrl.navy.mil!james From: james@library.nrl.navy.mil (James King) Subject: Christmas Post Message-ID: Lines: 123 Sender: usenet@ra.nrl.navy.mil Organization: NRL Distribution: rec.arts.startrek.* Date: Tue, 17 Nov 1992 19:32:10 GMT Someone recently asked for these: >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, Starfleet Cadet (to the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"): I'm at Starfleet Academy, And I'd just like to say I mis the opportunity To weekly save the day-- To make things worse, I have to be In some dumb Christmas play! Yes, I'm bright, thought I'm just a teenaged boy, Only a 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. Worf E-mailed two different greetings. The first appears to be to the tune of "White Christmas": I'm dreaming of a dead Pakled Just like the one in Rec Deck Eight. They all think they've hidden, But this one didn't, And I'm using him as bait. I'm dreaming of a dead Pakled-- Their mental skills are rather lame. May your foes die sonless, in shame-- And I hope you're wishing me the same! The second is most easily sung to the tune of "The Christmas Song" (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire"): Phasers flashing in the depths of space, Ripping up an airtight hull; Signs of fear on your enemy's face, And life-support signs reading null! Ev'rybody knows a Romulan's a spineless foe Who lacks the Klingon will to fight! Phaser beams set his torso aglow-- He'll find it hard to breathe tonight! He knows that Worf is on his way! And soon he'll be the object of the verb "to slay"! And ev'ry slinking Rom and Pakled spy Will soon become the subject of the verb "to die"! And so I'm offering this simple threat To Roms, and all Ferengi, too: You'll be as dead as a life-form can get-- Merry Christmas to you! Evidence suggests that these last two greetings are samples from a proposed anthology entitled "Klingon Krristmas Karols", published by the Federation as an attempt to translate certain aspects of Terran culture into Klingon terms; further examples from this festive book of holiday glee would be (to coin a term) fascinating to contemplate. The reader will note that Christmas felicitations from Deanna Troi are curoiusly absent; perhaps some other user has intercepted these, and will post them for our continued edification. ---------- Well, a friend of mine, John Reddick, apparently recently intercepted a subspace packet over the mainframe computer he was using from the same 24th century source that Anthony Moses discovered. It's another Christmas Carol from a member of the crew of Enterprise-D: COUNCELLOR TROI'S YULE-TIDE LAMENT (To the tune of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas") I get no surprises out of Christmas-- Presents leave me blue-- I know what they're giving me Before they do. Who wants to be Betazoid at Christmas? I read Jean-Luc's mind: "What's the cheapest gift for Troi that I can find?" Geordi thinks I'm a "Beta-bore"-- Worf likes Data more--by far. Wes to Mom takes his whinin', or, Sobs to Guinan o'er the bar. In Will's dreams I'm in a reindeer costume Bare at breasts and thighs-- He as Santa merrily His whips applies. Oh, Christmas is no fun aboards the Enterprise. From murdoch!uvaarpa!darwin.sura.net!ra!kingjames.nrl.navy.mil!james Tue Nov 17 15:15:07 EST 1992 Article: 17979 of rec.arts.startrek.current Newsgroups: rec.arts.startrek.current Path: murdoch!uvaarpa!darwin.sura.net!ra!kingjames.nrl.navy.mil!james From: james@library.nrl.navy.mil (James King) Subject: Christmas Post - part 2 Message-ID: Lines: 68 Sender: usenet@ra.nrl.navy.mil Organization: NRL Distribution: rec.arts.startrek.* Date: Tue, 17 Nov 1992 19:34:02 GMT Here's part two: 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the ship Not a circuit was buzzing, not one microchip; The phasers were hung in the armourery securely, In hope that no alien would get up that early. The crewmen were nestled all sung in their bunks (Except for the few who were partying drunks) And Picard in his nightshirt, and Bev in her lace, Had just settled down for a neat face to face... When out in the hall there arose such a racket, That we leapt from our beds, pulling on pant and jacket. Away to the lifts we all shot like a gun, Leapt into the turbos and shouted "Deck One!" The bridge red-alert lights, which flashed through the din, Gave a lustre of Hades to objects within. When, what on the viewscreen, our eyes should behold, But a weird kind of sleigh, and some guy who looked old. But the glint in his eyes was so strange and askew, That we knew in a moment it had to be Q. His sleigh grew much larger as closer he came. Then he zapped on the bridge and addressed us by name: "It's Riker, It's Data, It's Worf and Jean-Luc! It's Geordi, and Wesley, the genetic fluke! To the top of the bridge, to the top of the hall! Now float away! Float away! Float away all!" As leaves in the autumn are whisked off the street, So the floor of the bridge came away from our feet, And up to the ceiling, our bodies they flew, As the captain called out,"what the Hell is this, Q?!" The prankster just laughed and expanded his grin, And, snapping his fingers, he vanished again. As we took in our plight, and were looking around, The spell was removed, and we crashed to the ground. Then Q, dressed in fur from his head to his toe, Appeared once again, to continue the show. "That's enough!" cried the captain, "You'll stop this at once!" And Riker said, "Worf, take aim at this dunce!" "I'm deeply offended, Jean-Luc" replied Q, "I just wanted to celebrate Christmas with you." As we scoffed at his words, he produced a large sack. He dumped out the contents and took a step back. "I've brought gifts," he said, "just to show I'm sincere. There's something delightful for everyone here." He sat on the floor, and dug into the pile, And handed out gifts with his most charming smile: "For Counsellor Troi, there's no need to explain. Here's Tylenol-Beta for all of your pain. For Worf I've some mints, as his breath's not too great And for Geordi LaForge, an inflatable date." For Wesley, some hormones, and Clearasil-plus; For Data, a joke book, for Riker a truss. For Beverly Crusher, there's sleek lingerie, And for Jean-Luc, the thrill of just seeing her that way." And he sprang to his feet with that grin on his face And, clapping his hands, disappeared into space. But we heard him exclaim as he dwindled from sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good flight!"