Here They Come

Here They Come

Photo from NASA Image Gallery

by Rob Balder

 

A thousand steely meters, measured stem to stern.
A crew of four aboard. Explore, report and learn.
A planet, sick with pain and root rot,
Shrinks to a blue dot.
Leaving the mess,
Leaving the nest,
Here they…

Yes, mankind heaved itself up, bar by bloody bar.
Now this clean machine will take them to a star.
But most of what it took to build her
Came from their killers,
Came from their wars,
Came from their core.
Here they come.
Oooh, I told you.
I told you this day would come.

We’ve seen a dozen like them crawl up from the clay,
And then destroy themselves. They always find a way.
And we’ve got too much work to miss them
In ten thousand systems
Here we design
Here we refine
But here they..

We hold the stuff of space and time at our command
They’re only animals, they’ll never understand
They’ll find the net of quantum tunnels
And build a McDonald’s.
Burgers and buns
At each shining sun.
Here they come.

Oooh, I told you.
I told you this day would come.

There’s no solution we could ever justify,
We know the answer like we know the end of pi.
And we see why
Peace solves all equations
Even invasions
Even the quark
Even the dark
Here they…

Tycoon, tyrant, diva, beggar, martyr, murderer, hero,
Loan shark, Walmart, Marco Polo, Mozart,
Archimedes, Auschwitz, Kingdom of the Mouse, it’s
Too soon to say that they’re a cancer.
They might be the answer.
Packing a gun,
Out of the slum,
Here they come.

Oooh, here they come.

 

The Buffy Bunch

by Johnny Carruthers

To the tune of “The Brady Bunch,” written by Frank DeVol and Sherwood Schwartz.

 

1.
It’s the story of a girl named Buffy,
Who alone was chosen as the Slayer girl.
She would wield her wooden stakes with wild abandon,
Yet not mess up her curls.

It’s the story of her Watcher, Rupert,
Who had journeyed to the Hellmouth on his own.
He was waiting for her arrival,
So he was still alone.

Until the one day when the Slayer met the Watcher,
And they knew that it was much more than a hunch,
That this group would be great slaying vampires.
That’s the way they all became The Buffy Bunch.

The Buffy Bunch!
The Buffy Bunch!
That’s the way they became
The Buffy Bunch!

2.
It’s the story of a guy named Angel,
A vampire living with a Gypsy curse.
When he fell in love with a certain Slayer,
Things went from bad to worse.

Then there’s Xander, Oz, and Cordelia,
And Willow, who assist the Chosen One.
They had no clue what they’d get into,
But thought it might be fun.

On that day they met the Slayer and the Watcher,
They all knew that it was much more than a hunch;
As a group, they’d stand against the Hellmouth,
That’s the way that they became The Buffy Bunch.

The Buffy Bunch!
The Buffy Bunch!
That’s the way they became
The Buffy Bunch!

Buffy Bunch

Illustration by J. Andrew World

 

A Stable Connection

by R. Cleaves

To the tune of “Rainbow Connection,” performed by Kermit the Frog, written by Paul Williams and Kenny Ascher.

 

Why are there so many lost instant memos,
And badly downloaded files?
Firewalls configured and ports we must forward
So people can’t see inside?
Online there’s gold if you manage to reach it
Through all of the iPods for free…
Someday we’ll find it, a stable connection,
The hackers, the coders and me.

Who said that every ping would be heard and answered
When sent down your cable line?
Somebody 419s, and someone believes it,
Now spam chokes the mail grapevine…
Warcraft expandeth to suck up our bandwidth
So orcs can grow cute little trees,
Someday we’ll find it, a stable connection,
The lamerz, the gamers and me…
Cable or ADSL,
I’m sure it’s a marketing hat trick…

Have you been on the verge of scoring a cyber,
Then dropped out and lost your mate?
Have you successfully completed a torrent?
Well neither have I, to date…
I’ve pinged out too many times to ignore it,
Even when on a T3…
Someday we’ll find it, a stable connection,
The flamers, the fanboys and me…

La, da da deee da da daa,
La la la la la dee daa doooooooo…

A Stable Connection

Illustration by J. Andrew World

 

Narsil

Narsil

Illustration by S.C. Watson

by Rob Balder

To the tune of “Lucille,” performed by Kenny Rogers, written by Roger Bowling and Hal Bynum.

 

At a Middle Earth battle, they herded like cattle,
Bet that’ll look good on the screen.
The Second Age ending,
The Dark Lord ascending,
His deficit spending’s obscene.

The foes numbered millions,
Or possibly billions,
It’s how Silmarillions get penned.
Against trolls, orcs and giants,
They stood in defiance,
The last great alliance of elves and of men.

Their hero Elendil,
All tricked-out in mithril,
He carried the sword called Narsil.
With a warrior’s scowl on, he went to face Sauron,
To the Foul One he raised up his steel.

But Sauron just laughed,
Smashed it off at the haft,
And Elendil, he knew he was dead.
This relic he trusted,
Summarily busted.
Disgusted, he looked at the pieces and said…

CHORUS:
“You picked a fine time to leave me, Narsil.
400 legions of orcs in the field.
Been through some good wars, and you’ve been a good sword,
But Good Lord, your timing’s unreal!
You picked a fine time to leave me, Narsil.”

His final words spoken, Elendil got croakin’,
But the broken sword still was employed.
With one wicked flesh wound, his son nicked an heirloom,
We all know he should have destroyed.

This story may ramble,
But it’s just a preamble
To the shambles which later occurred.
As down through the ages,
And twelve hundred pages,
Elendil’s resounding complaint can be heard.

CHORUS
CHORUS

 

Mr. W.

Mr. W.

Illustration by J. Andrew World

by Rand Bellavia and Adam English

 

Captain’s on a holiday
First Mate has gone away
And Data’s down in engineering for repairs
Dr. Crusher’s got a cold
Wesley’s only twelve years old
And all the other children are mind controlled

Who will lead the crew? What are we to do
When the enemy ship comes into view?
When the pressure’s on who will take the con?

Geordi’s visor’s on the blink
Deanna Troi is on the brink
O’Brien’s been reassigned to Deep Space Nine
Barclay’s on the Holodeck
Tasha’s dead and Ro’s a wreck
Garibaldi’s not on Star Trek

Who will lead the crew? What are we to do
When the enemy ship comes into view?
Who’s to be obeyed when the Borg invade?
This is just what I was afraid of

Mr. Worf comes through
Mr. Worf will lead the crew
Mr. Worf’s our man
Mr. Worf will take command

I was hoping for someone else and I’m not just thinking about myself
I’m afraid for all our lives if Worf’s in charge of the Enterprise
We wouldn’t care: if Data’s cat was in power we’d follow her
If we received our orders from Nurse Ogawa we’d say,
“Yes, sir!”

Weren’t you the one who pointed your gun
At the viewscreen and you tried to stun
The grinning image of Q, what were you trying to do?
I seem to remember that was you

Mr. Worf don’t get mad
You’re the best Klingon we’ve ever had
But Mr. Worf you must see
We need a different kind of security

We’re glad you’re strong and brave
But we’d prefer a captain who fears the grave
Our standards aren’t that high
We only ask that we not die

[Rapping]
“I am a Klingon, and in my point of view
It would be dishonorable to cower like the rest of you
I have the ridges of a warrior, I do not fear death
I deposed the House of Duras with a flourish of my Batleth
Star Fleet’s only Klingon, I’m a full Lieutenant Commander
I’ve got two dead wives and a son named Alexander
No matter what I am equal to the test, I’ll kill them before I maim the rest
So be it Romulan Warbird or a cargo freighter, I’ll fire phasers first and ask questions later”

 

Sympathy For George Lucas

by Rob Balder

To the tune of “Sympathy for the Devil,” performed by The Rolling Stones, written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.

 

Please allow me to introduce myself,
I’m the man behind the scenes.
I brought the greatest science fiction film of all time
To the silver screen.
I was around when farmboy Luke
Met the Death Star, and got away.
Made damn sure that pilot
Used the Force, and saved the day.

Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name.
But what’s puzzlin’ you is why the prequels were so lame.

I thought up Jedis and light sabres,
I gave you Wookiees. I brought you droids.
You spent your teens on my Tattooine,
So you can’t be too annoyed.
If I’m the guy who made Artoo fly,
So much CGI that you want to cry.
I’m just a man doin’ the best I can
To make some movies, and sell some toys.

Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name.
But what’s puzzlin’ you is why the prequels were so lame.
You know this tale is your Holy Grail.
You know every line, every small detail.
It wasn’t I who set the bar too high
That when it came out, it couldn’t fail to fail.
But I watched with glee while you nerds and geeks
Stood in line for weeks for your preview sneaks.
You shouted out, “Who killed the Trilogy?”
When after all, it was Jar-Jar Binks.

Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name.
Is it still puzzlin’ you is why the prequels were so lame?
Let me explain.

Just as every dope is a prodigy,
As every Bard’s a hack,
As genius fails, just call me “Lucasfilm,”
Cause I’m in need of one good smack.
So if ya meet me, have some courtesy,
Shut yer pie hole, and get in line.
Buy all my well-planned merchandise,
Or I’ll make VII, VIII and IX.

I’ll do it, too.
Woo hoo! Woo hoo! Woo hoo!
Now tell me Jar-Jar, what’s my name?
Tell me Windu, what’s my name?
Amidala, what’s my name?
I’ll tell ya one time: you’re to blame.

Sympathy for George Lucas

Illustration by J. Andrew World

 

Captain’s Song

by J.W. Liotta

To the tune of “I’m Too Sexy,” performed by Right Said Fred, written by Fred Fairbrass, Richard Fairbrass, and Rob Manzoni.

 

I’m too sexy for my ship, too sexy for my ship.
Isn’t that a pip?

I’m too sexy for my mate, too sexy for my mate.
“Number One” don’t rate!

Chorus A:
I’m a captain, y’know what I mean?
And I give out my orders on the ship’s bridge.
On the ship’s bridge, on the ship’s bridge.
I give out my orders on the ship’s bridge.

I’m too sexy for my suit, too sexy for my suit.
Isn’t that a hoot?

I’m too sexy for my chair, too sexy for my chair.
With or without hair!

(Repeat Chorus A)

I’m too sexy for my crew, too sexy for my crew.
What can you do?

I’m too sexy for Star Fleet, too sexy for Star Fleet.
Isn’t that just neat?

Chorus B:
I’m a captain, y’know what I mean?
And I shake my l’il tush in the “big chair.”
On the ship’s bridge, on the ship’s bridge.
I shake my l’il tush in the “big chair.”

I’m too sexy for this song…

Captain's Song

Illustration by J. Andrew World

 

Fifty Ways to Leave Your Planet

by Rob Balder

To the tune of “Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover,” written and performed by Paul Simon.

 

She crossed her tentacles and swung her eyes to me.
The answer’s easy if you take it logically.
I’d like to help you in your struggle to be free.
There must be fifty ways to leave your planet.

She said it’s really not our habit to intrude.
We couldn’t help it; you’re a fascinating brood.
Why do you sit here burning oxygen and food?
There must be fifty ways to leave your planet.

Fifty ways to leave your planet.

Use chemical thrust, Gus.
Make a big ram, Sam.
Just hop on a sail, Dale.
Listen to me.

Start usin’ your brain, Blaine,
Manufacture a spaceplane!
Make an ion jet, Brett.
Get yourself free.

Just ride up a thread, Fred.
Use an orbital sling, Bing.
Get a microwave boost, Bruce.
Listen to me.

Go build a big gun, son,
We know you can make one!
Just superconduct, Buck.
Get yourself free.

You don’t need hyperspace, don’t need a warp nacelle.
Within your reach are many methods to propel
The human race beyond your gravitation well.
There must be fifty ways to leave your planet.

She said why don’t we both just sleep on it tonight
And I believe in the morning you’ll begin to see the light,
And then she probed me… but I realized she probably was right.
There must be fifty ways to leave your planet.

Fifty ways to leave your planet.

Use chemical thrust, Gus.
Make a big ram, Sam.
Just hop on a sail, Dale.
Listen to me.

Start usin’ your brain, Blaine,
Manufacture a spaceplane!
Make an ion jet, Brett.
Get yourself free.

Just ride up a thread, Fred.
Use an orbital sling, Bing.
Get a microwave boost, Bruce.
Listen to me.

Go build a big gun, son,
We know you can make one!
Just superconduct, Buck.
Get yourself free.

50 Ways to Leave Your Planet

Illustration by J. Andrew World

 

The Devil Went to the Convention

by Steven Earl Yoder

To the tune of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” performed by The Charlie Daniels Band, written by Charlie Daniels, Tom Crain, “Taz” DiGregorio, Fred Edwards, Charles Hayward, and James W. Marshall.
Based on events that occurred at JerseyDevilCon 2003.

 

Jersey Devil went to the convention
But he didn’t know the deal
But soon he’d find
An exposed behind
Can become a really big deal

Well, he came across a reunion
Full of women, and some were hot!
And the women raised
His loincloth just
To see what he has got

I guess they didn’t know it
But some girls were watching too
And they ran to whine to coachy even though they liked the view
And he came down all in a rage
Asking what the desk would do
Put the con on hold
Get the shields of gold
And if you won’t I’ll sue!

The man said I’m the Jersey Devil
And I didn’t mean to sin
But the coach was set
He wasn’t satisfied yet
Until all the cops came barging in

Devil cover up your bone and make sure it ain’t hard
Cause hell’s broke loose at the convention and the cops hold all the cards
And even though the law is biased and seems a little old
They’ll put you in a cell that’s damp and cold

The devil quickly covered up
Putting an end to the show
But the girls had seen enough
And said the coach just had to know

They ran upstairs to wake him up
And he said “What the hell is this?”
And the M.O.D. joined right on in
And he dealt the fatal kiss

[Instrumental]

When the police arrived they said
Jersey Devil you look pretty good old son
But Edison’s a town that
Doesn’t allow that kind of fun

Don’t look down and
Run girls run!
The Jersey Devil’s at the con and he’s out for fun
Nothin’ but a loincloth if you looked you know
The Edison police said
He had to go

[Instrumental]

The devil bowed his horns
In fatalistic defeat
And he walked out to the squad car
With some jeans over his meat

Johnny Law said Devil now don’t come back
And if you ever try again
Charged you once son of the Leeds witch
We’ll be glad to charge you again

Now don’t look down and
Run girls run!
The Jersey Devil’s at the con and he’s out for fun
Nothin’ but a loincloth if you looked you know
The Edison police said
He had to go

 

Cloned for War

Cloned for War

Illustration by J. Andrew World

by Michael D. Pederson

To the tune of “Born to Run,” written and performed by Bruce Springsteen.

 

In the day we sweat it out in the gyms of a renegade Republic planet
At night we are prematurely aged, at a rate of two-to-one
Sprung from creches on Kamino Prime
Plasteel, egg-shell armored
And steppin’ off the assembly line
(Ohhh!)
Baby, these clowns buy their clones off the rack
A half-price sale, it’s a plan to fail
They’re gonna go on making more
’Cause troops like us, baby we were cloned for war
(Yes, boy we were)

Jango Fett came in, donated chromosomes
He took a clone to raise and trained him
Just close your mind to the ethics, man,
And plant your ass on my Xerox
Genetics says we can break this cell
Split the nucleus, assemble the proteins back
(Ohhh!)
’Till we’re all the same as our “Father”
Yeah baby, I’m just a pawn and cannon fodder
But I want to know why we feel
’Cause I know my death is certain
Yeah, I know for sure my death is real
(Oh, can you save me?)

In the Outer Rim heavy powered drones scream through the atmosphere
Word comes down from the Jedi Council
And the clones are moved en masse
The transport shuttle comes in cold and fast
Troops are loaded on a ship in the night
I’m gonna die somewhere distant on a desert world
In an everlasting fight
(Hah!)

(1-2-3-4!)
The junkyard’s filled with battle droids, they’re the last wave that got fried
Everybody’s out on the front tonight
But there’s no place left to hide
Together we’ll all be killed in the battle
Just a herd of walking cattle in white suits
Someday soon, I don’t know when
I’m gonna get that order
That will finally send me in
And I’ll die in the fore
But ’till then, troops like us
Baby we were cloned for war

Awww buddy, troops like us
Baby we were cloned for war