Through some deep connections, we were able to acquire a bevy of original Star Trek: The Next Generation scripts, many of which were first drafts before any edits were made. That means there is a TON of brand-new material in them, including some eventually scrapped captain’s logs, like these:
Captain’s Log, Stardate 53391.3: The Enterprise has just departed from Starbase 831. They had a primitive mechanism for disposing of human waste. I took my best guess and deposited mine in the rectangular porcelain tank that sat above an equally strange round bowl full of water. I only hope that they are able to utilize the data from my usage in a positive way and that I didn’t inconvenience their staff. I surely wouldn’t want them to have to fish that out.
Captain’s Log, Stardate 49111.4: Data’s modesty programming has been malfunctioning, and he has been playing with his penis with reckless abandon for the better part of a week. Much like a small child, the crew has spent countless hours chasing him on the decks as he rubs his crotch at times violently, I fear it might all fall off. With Klingon treaty talks upcoming, this is an undesired distraction, and I fear I will never wipe from my memory his glistening naked android body.
Captain‘s Log, Stardate 41332.2, Supplemental: I fear that the crew may be losing respect for me. Over the last few days, I have been the victim of some unfortunate mishaps that seem to have a determined effect. First, Commander Data offered me a jar of Earth Peanuts, to which I delightfully agreed to share, only to find that there were fake snakes in the jar. Then, Lt. Yar called my communicator to ask if my refrigerator was running. When I gave the affirmative that my coolant system was working properly, she told me that I’d better go catch it. Disturbing. The last straw was when Lt. Commander Worf placed a sort of rubber balloon on my seat, which sounded like flatulence as I sat on it. The crew’s lack of concern for my mental well-being will need to be monitored for some time. If they’re efforts turn to mutiny, I will be forced to go down with the ship.
Captain‘s Log, Stardate 45284.3: Worf keeps using my bathroom. I wasn’t sure who it was at first. Thought maybe it was Wesley. But it definitely is Worf. I had the computer run a DNA analysis on some… leavings. And it’s not just that. I keep finding dental floss bunched up on the counter, toenails in the sink. One time there was half an orange sitting near the shower drain. God knows what that was about. I think it’s all an intimidation game. Marking his Klingon territory or some such nonsense. He better watch his ass. Christ…well, it’s not exactly Federation legal, but I’m sleeping with a phaser under my pillow tonight.