Future Tense

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Future Nonsense

The Suliban and Tholians fight it out.

Using only a knitting needle and a Hallmark card, Malcolm and Quantum arm the torpedo warhead.

Engineering. Trip works on the emergency beacon.

T'Pol comms Quantum that the Suliban are losing the dogfight, so they don't have much time. "We're working as fast as we can -- stand by," Quantum tells her, and continues to play MacGyver. with Malcolm. In the next cut, Malcolm Powder realized they're experiencing déjà poo brought on by the temporal radiation from the MMP. "If time's not repeating outside the Launch Bay, the Tholians could be close," Malcolm Powder observes. Close? They're right outside the window! Is he trying to say the Tholians might be close to being done making mottled mincemeat out of the Suliban, and can then turn their attention to blasting Enterprise? Or is he trying to say that the Tholians haven't reached Enterprise yet? Because in the second case, he would make absolutely no sense, since he just acknowledged that time isn't necessarily in repeats on the rest of the ship. I need to add crème de cassis to my Prosecco. Quantum and Malcolm Powder get back to work.

Bridge. T'Pol leans over May-Van-Dieman's-Land as he tells her the Suliban cell ships have been destroyed. "How many?" T'Pol asks. May-All-Along-The-Watchtower looks up dramatically: "All of them." Hoshi looks over in concern. May-Angel-Of-Harlem reports that the Tholians are on an intercept course. Okay, now I'm really confused. When the Suliban cell ships dropped out of warp and the Tholians engaged them in a firefight, all of that was taking place around Enterprise. There wasn't any action or dialogue that conveyed the idea that the fight between the Tholians and the Suliban was taking place several light years away, which would then necessitate the Tholians having to catch up to Enterprise once the battle was over. Gah. Why do I even care anymore?

Kitschen Confidential: I have this Chef Instructor who used to dance on Broadway until he tore something and decided to become a chef. He's such a freakin' trip, man -- he puts the "flambé" in "flamboyant." I call him Chef Chateau Lafitte. He's energetic, loud, and bounces more than Tigger on ephedra. He trained at La Varenne, cheffed (yes, it's a verb in my world) for some Dutch baroness and her Princess Von Hapsburg visitors, catered parties for Anwar Sadat's daughter in Beacon Hill, and ate Cheez-Its with Julia Child in Cambridge. I'm fidgeting over here because he so needs his own show on the Food Network, and I should be the head writer. Instead of Emeril BAM-ming everyone within hearing, you'd have Chef Chateau Lafitte's red face and gelled salt-and-pepper brush-cut shouting, "Stah that!" His Boston accent gets in the way of his "r"s, but it's what he screams when he wants us to remember something. It's become so infectious that Mathra's been saying it to his multivariable students -- Bah-ston accent and all. It's a helluva lot better than Jamie Oliver's Essex-boy "easy-peasy" crap.

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