I grope your cantaloupe.

I’m getting kick out of the word ‘furtherment’. It’s like cement only further.

In rewatching the original series and TNG thereafter, the consistent factor, regardless of the early special effects, was the scripts. The dialogue was always great. In ST: Picard, the dialogue is trash.

Thundercats are on the move, Thundercats are loose.

Inadmissible. This event doesn’t exist in the eyes of the law.

De-evolve?

That one breathes methane.

This is Lore.

Romulan Warbird or the Saturn 5 rocket.

This how we dance, dance, dance.

A bridge too Pon farr.

An ice cube tray. Eh? Eh? I’ll see myself out.

I thought we were all Britons.

This is the one where Smeagol steals the Ring of Fire from the Circus and kills his cousin Dobby by drowning him in the river Styx. Luckily Homer is there to write an Odyssey. Captain Kirk, ringleader of the Circus, fights it out with Finnegan to see who’s the best, “'Ey, Jimmy Boy. Where’s my Frosted Lucky Charms?” “OMG Spock, that rock monster looks like a pile of Chef-boy-ar-dee. Let’s chow down on these spherules while I use my phaser to light this bong.”