MSTed: Different World (Part 2)
T-Bone
seen.]
Well, welcome back, folks. Been busy the last couple weeks, but I finally got
around to MSTing the rest of Different World. Hope you like it.
["singing"]
How long, baby how long
Has that evenin' train been gone ...
[fade]
[Back on the Sat-O-Love. The debate is still going on.]
CROW: Okay, I will give you Cisco and his son. Good characters, minorities,
humans with human strengths and weaknesses, and no reinforcement
stereotypes. But that's it.
TOM: Lwaxana Troi?
CROW: Oh please, Servo! If I may be permitted a crass indelicacy, she is just
a futuristic alien version of an adult Jewish American Princess stereotype
who never really grew up and who is scary because she can LITERALLY read
men's minds.
TOM (timidly): Doctor Pulaski?
CROW: Bitch on wheels.
TOM: Help me out, Mike.
MIKE: Oh, um, well, uh, ... is Quark played by a minority?
CROW: Alien.
TOM: Well, he does look like Reggie Miller ...
MIKE: I know, Dax.
CROW: Another alien, Mike, and remember: she used to be a guy.
TOM: I guess that throws out Kira, too.
MIKE: Yeah; alien race, and bitchy as a Carmel housewife.
TOM: Wait a minute, what about Doctor Bashir? He definitely goes against the
western sterotype of Arabic peoples.
MIKE: I thought he was Indian.
CROW and TOM: What!?
MIKE: Asian Indian.
CROW and TOM: Ooooohhhhh....
TOM: Hm, we've hit a bit of a hurdle here. Crow, what do you think?
CROW: I thought Arabic, but now I'm not so sure.
MIKE: Alright, let's run with Arabic.
TOM: Okay, we'll assume he's Arabic, though this uncertainty about his ethnic
background probably plays right into Crow's hands. ANYWAY, instead of
being a homicidal bomb-setting terrorist or a decadent oil-wealthy sheik
who tries to buy blonde women on the streets of London, here is a man of
Arabic descent working as a doctor in a supportive, caring role.
CROW: Hm, this may be a grey area. I will agree that what you've said has
merit. However, like many people from more "cosmopolitan" backgrounds, he
initially regarded Bejor as a backwater and its people as primitives; he
had come to save the natives from themselves, much like a deluded but
well-meaning Christian missionary in Africa in the 1800s. Also, his
fascination with Dax also shows a backwards, comical, and occaisionally
childish attitude towards women, which reinforces part of a Western
stereotype of people of Arabic descent. But I will grant you that he is
not as bad as others.
MIKE: Okay, smart guy, then explain Guinan. She's a black female and the only
character powerful enough to take on Q directly.
CROW: But in spite of that, she was working as a bartender, she was an alien,
and they made her wear those silly-ass hats.
TOM: Okay, this is my last chance: Doctor Crusher.
CROW: Bev is a good character, but let us not forget one very important fact:
when the series first started, it was basically The Wesley Crusher Show.
Bev was Wes' mother, and the caring, nurturing aspect of motherhood was
further reinforced by her occupation of doctor *and* as Picard's love
interest. Yes, her job was important, many times vital, but not a threat
to the men who ran things.
TOM: So you're saying we've invested all this time and energy into a show
which is supposed to be so different but really isn't?
CROW: Yep.
MIKE: Well, look on the bright side, guys ...
TOM: What's that?
[Lights flash]
MIKE: At least we don't watch Dr. Who or read Heinlein. Movie sign!
[Doors; they renter the theater.]
>Captain's log, stardate 2341.7
>We have almost reached our destination.
TOM: We would have been there by now, but we needed to use the rest stops on
Rigel IX.
>Although are records say, the class
>M1 planet is uninhabited, we have prove that this is not the case.
MIKE: Sensors detected a shopping bag from Nobody Beats the Wiz.
>(on the bridge)
>Persons present:
> Captain Picard, Commander Riker, Counselor Troi (wearing her helmet),
CROW (falsetto): Huzzah! I am Skadi, Norse Mistress of the Hunt!
> the alien girl sitting just behind her, Lieutenant Worf, Commander
> Data, Cadet Wesley Crusher.
MIKE (nasally voice): I hate this dorky, teenage-nerd haircut; I'm gonna ask
Mom if I can get a mohawk!
>The girl has her eyes closed.
TOM: Diarrhea is like a storm raging inside you.
>The screen shows the planet.
>
>Picard: "Data, is the ship in our hangar ?"
CROW: Eh, know what I mean, wink-wink, nudge-nudge?
>Data: "Negative sir, she has sent it away to the planet. She said it is
> needed for our protection."
MIKE: Oh, well that makes se-- WHAT?!
>Wesley: "Reaching planet, sir."
TOM (as Picard): And shut up, by the way.
>Picard: "Standard orbit, Mr Crusher."
CROW: Okay; planet on our left, north is up, and orbiting counterclockwise.
>Data: "We are surrounded by black spots, sir. They are moving along with
> us."
MIKE: Mr. Worf, arm the stridex phasers.
>Picard: "Counselor, what is this ?"
TOM: A question mark; they're used to denote a question in written language.
>Troi: (after a short while) "Our protection, sir."
MIKE (as Italian gangster): Be a shame if anything happened to your ship,
Captain. I mean, things break; don't they, Captain?
>Picard: "What do you mean, counselor ?"
CROW (falsetto): Look, I'm making this up as I go along.
>Troi: "Don't know, sir, they only say that it is our protection.
MIKE (in an eerie imitation of Oliver North): Federation LIVES are at stake!
I have lied and violated the Prime Directive to preserve truth and
integrity, and now I want to be your Senator!
> I sense a
> great care about our well-being sir.
TOM: Happy slaves bring in more money, after all.
> A lot of thoughts fly through my
> head, but I do not understand what it is all about."
MIKE: You know, the more things change, ...
TOM: Yep.
>Data: "Scanners show traces of romulan buildings under construction, sir. I
> will put them on screen.
CROW: No, leave them on the planet.
> There are several sources of energy on the
> planet, but no weapons."
>
>The screen shows the planet, with buildings under construction.
[All three jump in surprise.]
TOM: By jiminy, he's right!
>Riker: "Shields up."
CROW: Belts off!
TOM: Trousers down!
MIKE: Isn't life a scream!
ALL: HAI!
>Troi: (almost immediately) "Emitting energy interferes with our protection,
> sir."
CROW (as Riker): Tampons, then?
>Worf: "Three romulan warbirds de-cloaking, sir."
>
>Picard: "Red alert."
TOM: Stand by to soil uniform.
>The bridge lights are dimmed, and red lights starts flashing.
CROW: Somebody get the fries!
>A siren
>goes off to announce the alarm.
MIKE: Hey, didn't this happen to Jason and the Argonauts?
>The screen shows the romulan ships de-cloaking.
[TOM begins to "WAH-WAH-WAH" the first few bars of "The Stripper".]
>Worf: "We are being hailed, sir."
CROW (Minnewegian voice): Oh golly, Marge, winter came early dis year.
TOM: Oh, ya-hey ...
>Picard: "On screen."
>
>The screen shows a romulan warrior.
MIKE (evilly): Huzzah! I am Legolamb's evil twin, Skippy!
>Romulan: "Hello captain Picard, what a pleasant surprise !
> Are you ready to die, captain ?"
TOM: Are you ready to stop being pretentious, Schnookums?
>Picard: "This is federational space. You are tress-passing. I demand you to
> leave immediately !"
CROW (French accent): Or I shall speak wis an outrageous accent and mock you
at length, you snotty-nosed son of Belgian whoopsie!
>Romulan: "Really captain, we are not tress-passing, we are here to help the
> federation starship Enterprise, who sent out an SOS after an encounter
> with an unknown enemy force."
TOM: The mining ship _Red Dwarf_.
>Picard: "To help them destroy us, no doubt."
MIKE (frat voice): Woo! Good one, dood!
>Romulan: "Do you surrender, captain ?"
TOM: Heck, I'll surrender the whole crew if you want.
>Picard: "No, I cannot do that !"
CROW: Apparently Patrick's forgotten about the first season already.
>Romulan: "Then die !, captain"
ALL (singing): "Die, Captain, Die ... aboard your Starfleet Ship."
>The screen returns to the view with the romulan ships.
MIKE: It's Petey Plane! In the 24th Century!
>Worf: "They are powering up their phasers, sir."
>
>Data: "Communications are jammed, sir."
TOM: Defication contacting rotary oscillator, sir.
>Troi: "She says, we should flash them, sir."
MIKE: Quick! Everyone put on your raincoats!
>The romulans fire their first shot. The entire bridge shakes and shudders,
>accompanied by the sound of explosions.
CROW: Well, THAT could have gone better.
>Worf: "Shields down, sir.
TOM: Hey, I thought they were down to begin with!
> Decks 5 and 8 badly damaged."
>
>Riker: "Another hit like that, and they will blow us right out the water."
MIKE: Or existence.
>Data: (to Riker) "Water, sir ?"
CROW: Hey! What a stereotypical anti-bot line!
TOM: I'm mad! This calls for a meeting!
>Troi: "It was a wise decision to stop emitting energy, sir."
MIKE: And gas! Did you eat that French onion soup for lunch again?
>Picard: "What did you say, counselor ?"
TOM: Bite m ... er, um, that is ...
>Troi: "I said, that it was a wise decision to stop emitting energy, sir.
> That is what they report to me."
MIKE: Look, when I want their opinions, I'll ask you for them.
>The romulans fire their second shot. This time, the entire bridge gets
>dark, some explosions are heard, then the lights come back on.
CROW: Geordi, quit playing with the fuses!
>Worf: "No further damage, sir."
MIKE: But Doctor Crusher's stuck on the holodeck with Bob Packwood and
Groucho Marx!
CROW: Oh, no ...
>Riker: "What happened ?"
TOM: Must be storms between us and the power plant.
>Data: "For a short moment, all sensor readings got blank, sir.
> Just like all energy got absorbed."
CROW: Like love on the soul of a frat guy.
>Picard: "Well, I'd say this is an act of aggression, don't you agree,
> number one ?"
MIKE: Well duh!
>Riker: "Yes, sir.
TOM (nasally wimpy voice): It's time to call a meeting and send out a memo!
> (to Worf) "Lieutenant Worf, fire everything we have."
MIKE (as Worf): Wes, climb into the torpedo tubes. You're fired.
>Worf: "Yes, sir."
CROW: Hot damn, I get to destroy, destroy! DESTROY!
>The Enterprise fires her phasers.
>
>Worf: "The weapon systems of the first warbird are completely destroyed,
> The second warbird has only minimal damage."
TOM (nasal falsetto): "Maybe he was farting."
>(outside view)
>
>Two warbirds empty their weapons on the Enterprise. When the shots reach
>the Enterprise, the Enterprise disappears,
ALL: YAY! (chanting) Romulans! Romulans! Attica!
>along with some stars in the
>background near the Enterprise,
CROW: Wow, those photons torpedoes reached light years away! Pretty good
shootin'!
>some explosions are heard, but no
>explosions are visible. Then the enterprise becomes visible again.
TOM: Awwwwww....
CROW: Rats.
MIKE: I hate having my hopes dashed like that.
>(on the bridge)
>Worf: "Weapon systems down, sir."
CROW: Tell Bev to prepare the prozac.
>Picard: "Plot a collision course for the two remaining warbirds, Mr
> Crusher."
TOM (as Picard): We'll use Wesley's head as a battering ram, ...
>Wesley: "Course laid in, sir."
CROW: Closest he'll ever get ...
>Picard: "Engage."
MIKE: He asked me! He asked me!
>Every member of the crew on the bridge is anxiously waiting for the crash.
TOM: That's the real down side to this new acid.
>The girl is sitting relaxed, with her eyes closed.
MIKE: Booze. It does a body good.
TOM: I'll say!
CROW: Brought to you by the booze council.
>Instead of the
>anticipated crash, everything becomes dark for a few seconds, then the
>light returns.
CROW: May the good Lord shine a light on you.
>Picard: "Status report, Mr Worf."
MIKE (as Worf): Boxers throughly soiled, sir.
>Worf: "No further damage, sir."
>
>Picard: "Stop engines.
> Status of our Romulan friends, lieutenant."
TOM (nasally, whiny voice): Sensors indicate that they're highly POed, sir.
>Wesley: "All engines stopped, sir."
CROW (as Picard): Oh, and shut up! Little pile of merde ...
>Worf: "First warbird has still no weapon systems, sir. The second and third
> warbirds almost destroyed."
>
>Data: "It looks, as if someone took a bite out of them, sir."
MIKE: This work has McGruff's pawprints all over it!
CROW: Data, when did you learn to speak in ..............................
TOM: Idioms?
CROW Idioms!
>Worf: "We are being hailed, sir."
TOM: Get out the snow chains.
>Picard: "On screen."
>
>The screen shows the romulan warrior. In the background, some smoke comes
>from the ceiling.
MIKE: Wow, looks like they live downstairs from glaucoma patients.
>Romulan: "You are extremely lucky, Picard.
CROW: I'd kick your butt if my brownies weren't burning in the oven.
> We just received a message from
> our base urging us to return.
MIKE (without feeling): Huzzah.
> We are needed elsewhere."
TOM: Scaredy cat! Scaredy cat! Sitting on a doormatt!
>Picard: "I would not want to keep you from your duty, you are free to
> leave.
CROW: And free to be who you want to be.
> Picard out."
>
>The romulan warbirds turn, then disappear into deep space.
TOM: Hey, that one had a "Baby on Board" sticker!
>Riker: "They will have a lot to explain."
CROW: Don Imus, ...
MIKE: Dan Quayle, ...
TOM: Yanni, ...
MIKE: Howard Stern, ...
CROW: Raffi, ...
TOM: Why anyone would request a song by Boston or Bob Seger, ...
>The girl now opens her eyes, smiling.
MIKE: SBD: silent but deadly.
>Troi: "She and her people want to thank you for our services, sir."
TOM (as Picard): We'll send them our bill within four business days.
>Picard: "Gladly accepted, counselor.
> Thank her for their protection.
MIKE: Planned Parenthood was closed, and I ... couldn't get to the drugstore.
> I still don't understand how it
> works, but it did its job well. We will orbit the planet for a while,
> to repair damages, and destroy the buildings."
CROW (as Worf): Hot damn! Dibs on the phaser banks!
>Picard turns to the girl, but she has disappeared.
TOM: Oh, she joined SNL.
>Picard: "Where is she ?"
CROW: "Powdering her nose", sir.
>Troi: (looking at the planet on the screen, with a big smile) "Back home,
> captain, back home."
TOM: Huh?
>
>
>
>THE END.
TOM: WHAT?
MIKE: Oh ...
CROW: LAME! LAME!
>Albert Hofkamp
MIKE: Shame on you Albert!
TOM and CROW: You are filled with shame!
>--------------- END OF STORY ---------------
>
>I can be reached at hof...@cs.utwente.nl
MIKE: Pretty brave to put that at the end, after what you just did!
TOM (as Don Adams): Ah, yes! The ol' fake-them-out-and-use-the-ending-from-
Monster-A-Go-Go-when-you-can't-think-of-an-ending trick!
CROW: It's deja vu all over again.
[Tom starts to move towards Mike.]
TOM: Let's get outta here!
>Albert
MIKE: Not in the can, are you?
[They leave.]
>--
>exit 0 # Just in case
[Door sequence. All the bots are gathered around a pile of letters and
talking about the fanfic. Mike keeps looking at photos and grinning
inanely.]
TOM: My Lord! Was that ever bad!
CROW: I know! There was nothing explained at ALL!
TOM: Not that we don't like an air of mystery, of course. I know you liked
the book "And Then There Were None".
CROW: And you were talking about the unresolved plotlines in the last episode
of "Twin Peaks" for a month.
TOM: Right. But this explained NOTHING!
CROW: Why did the Romulans choose THIS planet?
TOM: How did all this energy interfere with the powers of these people?
CROW: And just what WERE the powers of these people?
TOM: And just WHO were these people?
CROW: And how did they build that helmet to fit a Betazoid so quickly without
working out the bugs?
TOM: And if they had all those powers, why couldn't they kill the Romulans
themselves instead of using the Enterprise?
CROW: And why didn't Picard blow them out of the sky after they committed an
act of war by firing on him?
TOM: And let's not forget that they had the technology to build that small
black spacecraft, far in advance of anything the Federation or the
Romulans could build, but couldn't figure out a way to make the Romulan
buildings collapse and drive them away!
GYPSY: And let's not forget the biggest question of all.
CROW: Uh, what's that?
GYPSY (uncertainly): Why bother with writing yet another bad Star Trek
fanfic, and if you want to write, why not develop some characters with
depth instead of these same old predictable schmoes?
[Slight pause]
CROW: You know, she's right.
TOM (imitating Rex Harrison): By George, I think she's got it!
GYPSY: Ready to read the letter, Mike? ... Mike?
MIKE (looking up from picture): Huh, what? Oh, yeah, ready.
CROW: Okay, we've chosen this one from Timmy Rathman from Aurora, Colorado.
MIKE: Sorry, guys, but (reaches over to pile) I'm reading a letter from THIS
pile.
GYPSY: What?
TOM: Why?
MIKE: I'm tired of all these kids' letters; let's read one from someone a bit
older for a change, okay?
CROW: Okay, fine.
MIKE: Let's put this on still-store, Cambot. [reads] "Dear Penthouse, I'm a
student at a small Midwestern university in love with a guy in space."
Just kidding. "Dear Mike and the bots, I feel kind of strange writing to
you. You see, I'm not some preteen who thinks you are cool like the Mighty
Morphin Power Rangers. I love your show because it is intelligent, funny,
and so hip that the cool, hip people don't know about you yet." Well
that's nice.
TOM: Yeah.
MIKE: "Your show is great; in fact, it's the best thing to happen to American
television since Laugh-In knocked Lucy out of the top ratings spot."
CROW (in Lucille Ball voice): Aaaaaaa, Ricky, I want to bet my bippy! Waaaaa.
MIKE: "I like all the bots; I like Gypsy because ..."
GYPSY: Yaaaay!
MIKE: " ... because she is more complex and intelligent than people realize,
and it is good to see that a female character holds the whole operation
together." I think we can agree with that.
TOM: Yeah.
CROW: Sure, whatever.
MIKE: "I love Crow; he never fails to make me smile when I'm feeling down.
And Tom Servo is soooo cute I could just hold him and cuddle him all day."
[Turns page; gets strange look on his face]
CROW: Hey, this sounds great!
TOM: Yeah, fine, whatever.
MIKE: "I have to admit that when `the other guy' left the show, I was a bit
disappointed and crushed. However, since then I have begun to feel the
same affection towards you, and that feeling is now much stronger than it
ever could have been for was for ol' What's-His-Name. I feel kind of silly
doing this, but here's a pair of my flannel boxers [holds the unwashed
boxers up] and a picture of me in blue lace lingerie and being creative
with Mentos." [Picture falls onto counter; Crow and Tom peer at it.]
CROW: Woah!!!
TOM: Good gravy!!
MIKE: "I can't wait to see you at the Con, signed Kate Wrightson. P.S. I am
sharing a room with two other female MSTies who are also REALLY looking
forward to meeting you."
CROW: Wow!
SERVO (still looking at picture): I think you could hide a pencil CASE ...
GYPSY (sighing): I guess all our lessons just didn't sink in.
TOM: Mike, I feel all funny inside; can I go to the Con with you? Huh? Huh?
MIKE: Down boy.
CROW: Hey, Mike, there's twenty RAMchips in it for you if you can sneak me
into your escape pod.
MIKE: Sorry, Crow, I'm gonna be selfish on this one. Besides, Bono and The
Edge were talking about needing you guys up here for something.
TOM (sniffling): But it's not fair! I want to be cuddled and hugged and
creative with EuroCandy!
CROW: Oh well, never forget the Michigan football motto: just wait till next
year.
MIKE: Waddaya think, sirs?
[Back in Deep 13. Frank wears a skimpy nightie over his usual black attire;
his arm is in a sling and his head is heavily bandaged; his curl sticks out
from under the bandage.]
FRANK: Steve, they're done with the fanfic.
[Dr. Forrester, carrying a handful of pencils, enters stage right.]
DR F: Ah, Merv. Glad that it hurt. Frank, pull that lever.
[Frank does so. Cut to SOL. Mike drops through the floor with a yell, much to
the surprise of the bots. The trapdoor shuts before any of them can follow
Mike down. Cut back to Deep 13.]
DR F: Well, as you know, the R&D goes on round the clock here at Deep 13;
that's our key to success. Why, if not for our twenty-four hour commitment
to evil, the world would not know the raw sexual allure of Pat Buchanan;
the soulful, impassioned music of New Kids on the Block; or the wit and
verbal dexterity of Pauly Shore. So for your next MSTing, while Mike's in
Minnesota, land of the "golden gophers", we're sending up a temporary
replacement so the evil keeps on coming.
[SOL]
TOM: A replacement? Who?
CROW: TV's Frank?
GYPSY: Torgo?
TOM: Sandy Frank?
CROW: John Winston?
GYPSY: Stephen Ratliff?
TOM and CROW: Aigh!
GYPSY: Sorry.
[Deep 13]
DR F: Oh, no, this is FAR more evil than that. I've isolated the PERFECT
person to make Mike's pain all it can be. Frank, have you got them on the
scanner?
FRANK: Yep; the red Saturn is heading west on I-24 and we're tracking.
DR F: Then activate the tele-ray!
[Frank pushes a button; the lights dim and buzzing electro-sound-effects fill
the air. Back on SOL. The lights dim, the rolling lights flash, and the
satellite shakes. The bots start running around in general pandemonium.]
TOM: The hell ... ?
[Suddenly there is a huge puff of smoke in the middle. Standing there is a
tall woman with brown hair, brown eyes, and a great figure. She is wearing a
Bitch Creek Nymphs t-shirt.]
WOMAN: Hey, what's going on?
CROW: Who are you?
WOMAN: OMIGOSH!!!! CROW! SERVO! GYPSY! Oh, this is great! Where's Mike!?
TOM: He left for the Con.
GYPSY: Who are you?
WOMAN: I'm Kate Wrightson.
CROW (looking at picture): Oh, I didn't recognize you without the Bugs Bunny
Pez dispenser and the feather duster.
[Back to Deep 13]
DR F: Yes, just to make your AND Mike's pain complete, I'm keeping you
totally seperated!
[SOL]
KATE: Hm, there's always next year. [Reaches into her pocket, pops something
in her mouth, holds up a MENTOS! roll.] Besides, never underestimate the
power of a woman. [Kate grins and grabs Crow and Servo, giving them a bear
hug. Gyspy rubs against her like a long lost puppy. Crow sighs and Servo
starts to shiver and "hoo-hoo" as Kate grins at the camera.]
[Deep 13]
DR F: Oh, you aren't going to beat me with EuroMints. Get ready for evil...
Until next time, Schnookums! Push the button, Frank.
\ | /
\|/
---O---
/|\
/ | \
[Back in the smoky bar. T-Bone closes his guitar case, puts a harmonica in
his jacket pocket, and looks at the camera.]
Well, hope you liked it, folks. Kate and I will be working on the next MSTing
of a StarTrek fanfic ASAP. See you then. [Fade out as he leaves, humming the
intro to "Just a Poor Boy Blues".]
MSTed by Richard Burton (aka T-Bone; bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov)
Disclaimer: MST3K and related situations/characters/settings/scenarios are
the property of Best Brains; they had nothing to do with my writing this up.
This MSTing was done for the sole purpose of entertainment and is not meant
to be a personal attack on the original author(s) in any way. I intended no
flames on any organizations, characters, products, people, or ideas which I
referenced in my MSTing. I have e-mail from Kate, in which she agreed to my
using her name in this MSTing after having been forwarded an advanced copy of
the appropriate section. This MSTing reflects my own personal viewpoint, and
does not necessarly reflect the views of NASA, Goddard Space Flight Center,
or my employer.
Rob Keeney
T-Bone <bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov> wrote:
>MIKE: Yeah; alien race, and bitchy as a Carmel housewife.
house wife jokes so long ago...
--
Rob Keeney, PUCC lab consultant
rke...@cc.purdue.edu see also: r...@expert.cc.purdue.edu
#include <disclaimer.h>
T-Bone
>In article <34dbip$q...@paperboy.gsfc.nasa.gov>,
>T-Bone <bur...@lobster.gsfc.nasa.gov> wrote:
>>MIKE: Yeah; alien race, and bitchy as a Carmel housewife.
> Indianapolis area joke, T-Bone? Boy I remember all those Carmel
>house wife jokes so long ago...
Yes; a former "special lady" in my life was originally from Carmel. And you
know what? It's the a stereotype that works 100%; the exception that proves
the rule, if you will.
T-Bone
"Ask Pam, she'll back me up."