Sorry, miss. I was giving myself an oil job.
In the final decade of the 21st century... men and women in rocket ships landed on the moon.
Another one of them new worlds. No beer, no women, no pool parlors, nothin'. Nothin' to do but throw rocks at tin cans, and we gotta bring our own tin cans.
Welcome to Altair IV, Gentlemen. I am to transport you to the Residence. If you do not speak English I am at your disposal with 187 other languages along with their various dialects and sub-tongues.
Whatever that lunch was, it was certainly delicious.
But why should people want to kiss each other?
All right, so it's impossible. How long will it take?
Then why don't you kiss me like everybody else does?
Prepare your minds for a new scale of physical scientific values, gentlemen.
Genuine Kansas City bourbon!
I am monitored to admit no one at this hour.
Why haven't I seen this all along?