Victor and I are having a huge argument about whether or not to feed the foxen. Victor says yes, because they're adorable and— according to the neighbors—are quite tame. I say no, because we have a fat little pug who likes to frolic outside occasionally and I don't want to see him eaten. I thought we were on the same page about the fox, but then Victor went and threw an apple at it. And I was all, “What the fuck? We don't feed the foxen,” and he said, “I was throwing the apple at it to chase it away,” but Victor is a tremendous liar, and he didn't go to pick up the apple, probably because he knows that foxen love apple cider.

So, even in its agricultural aspects, it was more than a dairyland. And it was more than a food-and-beverage state. It was a leader in the science of nutrition.

“Well,” Riker resumed, turning back to Rocky, “you listen up, fuckass. You speak when I tell you to. And that goes for the rest of you.”

… it will be recalled that in 1960 they were billed as the long-distance express multiple-units of the future, ….