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TNG Caption This! 291: Random Silliness

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Picard: "Why do we have so much food? We'll never finish it all."

Crusher: "Yes, I-we will. And you don't talk about my weight and I won't discuss your massive hair loss."
 
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Crusher: "Jean Luc, now that we've become such close friends, and I've learned so many little private things about you that Starfleet would undoubtedly frown upon, I was wondering if you might give me your permission to perform some clandestine medical experiments on a few unsuspecting crewmen."
 
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Before he went on shift, Worf took a moment to fix his glare on the other Klingon. One day, he knew, the rival would make his move. But when that challenge eventually came, Worf would be ready. And, every day, he made sure the other Klingon knew it.

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"I don't wish to alarm you, Beverly, but the chair to your left just leant back and blinked at me".

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Riker: "This is a low-quality season six episode. Here's your phaser. If at any time you choose to end it, the audience will understand".
 
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PICARD: Shall we clear the table and commence fornicating?

CRUSHER: Wow, so romantic. You must be French.
 
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Picard: Tea, Earl Grey, hot.
Crusher: Scotch, single malt, neat.


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Worf: I can easily understand women's attraction to me, I can hardly keep my hands of myself.

Camera pans to a nearby fireplace, as the romantic music swells.

:)
 
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Data: I'm reading a shuttlecraft entering the wormhole. One Human/Cyborg aboard, Sir

Picard: can you tell who it is?

Data: yes. It's Mitt Romney
 
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Hello, ladies! Look at your man. Now back to me. Now back at your man. Now back to me! Sadly, he isn't me. But if he stopped using petaQ-scented body wash and switched to nothing at all, he could smell like he's me.

Look down! Back up! Where are you? You're on the Enterprise, with the Klingon warrior your man could smell like! What's in your hand? Back at me! I have it: it's an oyster with two tickets to that Klingon opera you love! Look again. The tickets are now gold-pressed latinum!

Anything is possible when your man smells like a Klingon warrior and not a cowardly petaQ!

I'm on a targ.
 
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Data: Captain, it's a white hole.

Picard: A white hole?

Data: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. A black hole sucks time and matter out o the universe. A white hole returns it.

Picard: So that thing is spewing time back into the universe?

Data: Percisely.

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Cat: So what is it?
 
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Riker: So Lieutenant, can you exlain why we are fifteen officers, including this nerd behind me who usually have to use holodeck to pick up a girl, who needed to be treated for Risian gonorrhea since you have been transferred here.
Geordi: You are the dirtiest wormhole of this quadreant!

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Picard: Mister Data, why this wormhole appeared?
Data: It seems *they* beamed *her* in space, Captain.
Picard: Fine, Ensign Whitoutname, get us in a safer zone! Mister Data, you are in charge of deletion of all traces of this Risian gonorrhea, including into brains of medical staff. Lieutenant Attheunintifiedstation, condemn this zone to any ship navigation. I will be in my ready room to write a false report about a transporter accident. Don't disturb me, I have to put cream on my little Jean-Luc.
 
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*Worf reaches up to comb his hair, but when he looks in the mirror he realizes it's already perfect*
Worf: "Aaaaayyyyy!"
 
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Picard: Well, dinner's done.
Beverly: Yes.
Picard: The wine bottle's empty.
Beverly: It is.
Picard: And we're both off-duty tomorrow.
Beverly: Yes!
Picard: And the night is young. That means one thing.
Beverly: Yes!
Picard: Time for a game of whist! I'll call Will and Geordi.

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Riker: Like I said, it was a phaser in my pocket.
 
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Favorite Marx brother?
Harpo.
Favorite disease?
Turrete's.
Favorite 80's sitcom?
Small Wonder.
Favorite Captain?
Kirk. Oh!

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Perhaps today is a good day to dye - and feather.


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Picard: Prepare to probe the vortex, Data.
Data: Yes sir.
Picard: Target the one on the left.
Data: ...?

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Riker: Did Geordi complete your phaser training, Ensign?
Aquiel: Yes, Commander. He even gave me visual aids.
Riker: <taps communicator> Riker to sickbay.
 
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