Beeping of alert signal. [Ensign:] Captain, the transporters ready. [Captain:] That's hip. Lieutenant Marvin, what is the condition of the planets surface? [Marvin:] It is difficult to be precise. However, my instruments indicate a condition of extreme rigor mortis, spreading rapidly throughout the population. Highly illogical, Captain. [Captain:] A bunch of stiffs, huh? Well, set coordinates for, ah, Chocolate City, and have a landing party of nine men beam down immiediately, with phasers set on funk-funk!