UBS Casual Home Page, submitted by Accidental Google Search Result. I don't hate Star Trek nerds, and I certainly don't wish death upon them every chance I get, but I really wish they wouldn't make sites like this. What's wrong with this site? The hell if I know, because I can't even put it into words that aren't "goddamn," "fuck," and "argh!" Suffice to say, it's some sort of horrible love affair with Star Trek and the concept of comedy gone horribly wrong. Like found in the belly of a giant snake that's on fire and falling out of an exploding jetliner wrong. Don't listen to me, just try to read this:
The Casual began its life as a standard MK IX/A Heavy Cruiser, identical in design specifications to the legendary USS Enterprise (NCC-1701) after her complete refit. (The "rebuilt" Enterprise has been referred to in various Starfleet documents as either an Enterprise Class or a Constitution II Class Heavy Cruiser. Since most of the staff of the Casual never paid much attention to such details, we'll let it slide and not get stressed about it.) The Casual was originally the USS Athena, her hull laid down under Naval Construction Contract #1834. She was commissioned on Stardate 18410.07. Her career as a Starfleet vessel was rather short and unimpressive, however, owing mainly to one of the least efficient crews in the Federation. The Athena's existence officially ended on Stardate 18603.15, when her dangerously ambitious XO crafted an intricate web of deceit which was supposed to result in the destruction of the ship and a large percentage of her crew. Luckily for us, that plan was thwarted at the last minute. In the aftermath, the UBS Casual was born. (For the full details of the Casual's conception, see The History of the Casual.) As a result of the many modifications performed by our dangerously creative and questionably stable Engineering staff, the San Francisco Naval Yards revoked our NCC on Stardate 18607.13. We got over it, though.
And that's just a small chunk of the introduction. The site goes on to feature lengthy write-ups about futuristic dildos, terrible Photoshops, and the kind of suffering that usually comes from trying to shove an active beehive up your left nostril while laying naked in the middle of a busy freeway during the worst blizzard ever. Maybe there is more to this site, but I'm not the kind of man who can mine laughter out of a twenty-paragraph sex joke about photon torpedoes.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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