admittedly two of those three being voyager and enterprise means it's kind of like the year justin morneau won without cracking .320 but that's the modern game for you

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your job is to turn a spit to make sure the boar is tender for the lord, for which you are paid in kicks and parsnips, and one night you and your pals sneak up from the kitchen and hear actual angels fluttering around the rafters

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can you imagine what it was like to be at the first performance of spem in allium in 1570 people must have been absolutely losing their minds

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The giveaway with the priorities-for-science from these lads is how much it’s what you’d think needed doing if you were a rich, white guy, so had basically the world already organised for your benefit. “What could anyone want? Robot butlers and spaceships!” Um. Food? Rights? Shelter? A job?

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Maslow’s hierarchy of Mankind Store Drones and Bullshit.

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