Setting: A bunch of pallid, stiff-looking guys on a baseball field wearing the most ugly uniforms ever to grace the major leagues.

A: Who's on first?

B: No, Hugh was third of five.

A: Who's third?

B: Yes.

A: Wait, I asked who's third.

B: Yes.

A: So who's on third?

B: Yes.

A: Bipbipbipbip (huff) (huff)! All right, why won't you tell me who's on third?

B: Hugh cannot tell, Hugh is no longer part of the collective.

A: I know I'm not on the team! But who's on third?!?!

B: Yes, he was.

A: Okay, okay. Why not locate us the pitcher.

B: Locutus is no longer part of the collective.

A: Huh?

B: Yes, Hugh, too.

A: I KNOW I'm not on the team. Lord!

B: Lore has been deactivated. Lore disrupted the collective.

A: Okay, let me get this straight. Who's on third. Lord (your manager?) has been deactivated, and you no longer have a pitcher because someone isn't locating us?

B: Yes.


B: Understanding is irrelevant. You will be assimilated.

A: But you said he was no longer on the team.

B: Hugh will be assimlated. It is inevitable.

A: Me? I don't want to be on your team.

B: Irrelevant. You will join the collective. Resistance is futile.