tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84933408881391032052024-03-13T19:54:53.521-07:00Travels With an AlienJimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.comBlogger640125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-81978862673254995152022-06-28T05:58:00.000-07:002022-06-28T05:58:13.706-07:00Dirty Tricks<p> I'm in real trouble. C.W. stayed up late and created this meme that he posted on the internet so my wife could see it first thing. I'm hiding from her and he is hiding from me.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbRuQeiIzpTXr8wqtYq4e7AQ6kBPgi2GGEb2S8jIV5DNWTxI08TgFEBhxIrK1T37AZ-_ZZbefHN6JTHta2PCkLNy5aHP7hFtUDuJazYchVqwEPGX5t71kEBMkpN-vcLN3DOgF4qqcCe-jqI-2uwA7_lr6z-WuyG6koLcyjscMvKOT_IfHZpekDIvwQEw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbRuQeiIzpTXr8wqtYq4e7AQ6kBPgi2GGEb2S8jIV5DNWTxI08TgFEBhxIrK1T37AZ-_ZZbefHN6JTHta2PCkLNy5aHP7hFtUDuJazYchVqwEPGX5t71kEBMkpN-vcLN3DOgF4qqcCe-jqI-2uwA7_lr6z-WuyG6koLcyjscMvKOT_IfHZpekDIvwQEw" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-44813129942265395822022-06-27T05:26:00.000-07:002022-06-27T05:26:21.169-07:00Have A Good Week<p> He walked through this morning while I was half asleep. I think he intended to be a newscaster but I wasn't sure.</p><p>"What kind of week do you plan for this week," he said. "Inquiring minds want to know."</p><p>I tried to ignore him.</p><p>"Shall I report, 'No comment?'"</p><p>"What the godalmighty hell are you talking about?"</p><p>"Well," he said, "Week before last you were saying that they may have hit bottom."</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"Last week you said you didn't think there was a bottom."</p><p>"Coffee," I said.</p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-47771524741916032922022-06-26T05:33:00.009-07:002022-06-26T05:33:57.827-07:00DAILY NEWS<p> C.W. came by this morning. I hadn't seen him in ages. He had worried about Covid and hasn't been around much. Anyway, today he looked a lot like I imagine Charles Darwin might have looked.</p><p>"What's up?" he said.</p><p>"Where have you been?"</p><p>"Somewhere safe, watching," he said.</p><p>"To what do I owe the pleasure?"</p><p>"Does your species understand natural selection?"</p><p>I thought. "Some do. Many don't."</p><p>"The species may get hit by it, and not in a pleasant way."</p><p>"Oh?"</p><p>"Yes. Remember that the role of a male is to impregnate as many females as he can to propagate a species much like himself."</p><p>"Yes."<br /></p><p>"And remember that the role of a female is to propagate wisely, as with most things. That's why we don't understand why they aren't the rulers."</p><p>"So. Do you have a point?"</p><p>"Yes. What happens if they aren't allowed to choose wisely."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"What if rapist and child-molesters decide to develop a dominant species by spreading their seeds abundantly and pervasively?"<br /></p><p>A crack appeared in the clouds of my thinking and a shaft of light emerged.</p><p>"And what if the results of their base decision were now protected by your laws so propagation would prove inevitable?"</p><p>"You mean the products of wickedness might be protected by the courts?<br /></p><p>"I mean floods of mutants infiltrating your species. Nothing more. Nothing less."</p><p>"Did you come back after all these years just to make me feel worse than I already do?"</p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-49803979789530637742021-10-23T07:39:00.000-07:002021-10-23T07:39:08.291-07:00Deliverance<p>This morning I grabbed a cup of coffee and headed
into my room. I saw a familiar sight and spun around to leave. Too late.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Come in my child.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">There at my computer was The Galilean, one of the
favorite shapes of the Alien C.W. my more or less permanent houseguest. I
dreaded our conversations like a prostitute dreads a police interview.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Come and sit.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">What could I do? I sat. “What the hell are you up
to?” I wasn’t going to go gently into this good fight.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Be calm,” he said. “Have you said your morning
prayers, yet?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Let me explain. The figure before me had long,
greasy black hair, a stringy beard, glassy black eyes and robe that smelled of
long days’ wear. And he was quizzing me on prayer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“No,” I said. “You know I quit praying while I was
still in high school.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">His dark eyes bore into me and I shivered. “Tell
me, exactly what did you pray for then?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I knew he wouldn’t stop, so I might as well go
along. “I prayed to be tall enough and big enough to be a football player.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And what exactly happened?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Nothing. I walked through graduation at five-foot-ten
and 130 pounds.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And for that you quit praying?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes. Wouldn’t you have?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He ignored me. “How much do you know about prayer,
my son?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Oh crap. Here we would go. “Just that it didn’t
work for me.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Is there what you call a … ,” He paused and I heard
his Galactic Universal Translator hum. He studied some notes he had on my desk,
“a ‘statute of limitations’ on prayer?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A what?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Do your entreaties and pleas evaporate over time
like a thin fog on a spring morning?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I hate it when he gets poetical. “How the hell
should I know?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Don’t blaspheme, my child. Think of what I asked.
It may be hard, but think.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He resorted to one of his favorite tricks, a
challenge tinged with an insult. “Okay, I’m thinking.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“If faith is eternal, shouldn’t the requests of faith-based
prayers be eternal?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Beats me.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Let me answer. Yes, my child. Prayers are
eternal. There are no expiration dates for them.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“If you say so.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I do. But we’re talking about you.” He paused,
for dramatic effect as much as anything. “Not tell me how tall you are this
morning and how much you weigh.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I heard the trap door slamming shut and didn’t answer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I know the facts anyway,” he said. “Now aren’t
you as tall and large as many successful football players?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“But I’m …,” I began. He cut me off.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A prayer response delayed is not a prayer request
unanswered.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">My mind twirled and a bell rang in my head. “But
what about the few in Germany in the 1930s who prayed to avoid war?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He grimaced. His GUT hummed. It was his turn to
stammer. “Is there any more of that coffee?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-75010167751512495302021-10-16T10:17:00.005-07:002021-10-17T05:03:31.812-07:00FAIR AND BALANCED<p> There was a loud, “<i>Achtung</i>” and I heard a hand
slap on a table. I had to check it out. Went in and who should be all outfitted
with lederhosen and other accoutrements than C.W. in a perfect imitation of the
WWII German Minister for Armaments and War Production Albert Speer. He was
busily pounding my laptop.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What the …?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Shhh, he said. “Have a paying job going on.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A what?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A paying assignment. For money. Just for writing
a novel.” I heard a hum. "<i>Mucho Dinero.</i>"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A novel? Who’s paying you for writing a novel?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A state government. This,” he pointed at the
computer,” will be required reading for every student in the state.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What state government would pay you to write a
novel?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Not at liberty,” he said, “but tell me something.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What?”</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What would be a good name for a beautiful commandant of women at a Nurture
Center for displaced war refugees during World War Two? She’s a little bit
headstrong but well-intentioned and basically loving. The men all chase after her. The women there all adore
her, except for the other commandants. They are jealous of her.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“At what kind of center?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“You know. Where they keep abandoned women until
they are … until their families unite with them.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Where are these centers?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Mostly in Poland. Some in Germany.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And the centers are designed for care and
protection?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes. Our heroine watches over her charges with
the assistance of a portly, but kind-hearted assistant named Oma-Greta. She’s
always telling our heroine ‘<i>Nicht Richtig</i>’ when our heroin does something
untoward.” He grimaced. “Wait a moment,” he said. “My Galactic Universal
Translator is acting up.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I waited. In a moment, he said, “<i>Nicht Richtig: </i>That means ‘It isn’t
acceptable,’ or ‘It’s not proper,’ or ….”</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Tain't Fittin’?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes,” he said. “How did you know what my GUT was
telling me?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Guessed. Are you writing a novel about Nazi
Germany?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“We don’t call it that.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What do you call it?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“<i>Gutemenschenland</i>.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Do you know what that means?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“The ones who hired me say it means ‘holy’ or ‘righteous’
depending on the context.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What does your GUT tell you?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I haven’t consulted it yet. Anyway, sometimes my GUT misleads me.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Tell me,” I said. “How is this novel going to end?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Our heroine, I’m thinking of calling her Scharlachrot
Harren, her boyfriend Rolf Spieler, and Oma-Greta lead all the inmates of the
Nurture Center safely back to their homes amidst great rejoicing. There well be this grand scene at a
trainyard where they all unite. And they all live happily ever after.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“You’re not going to tell me who’s paying you to write
this?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He looked around as if to see if anyone was
listening. “Let’s just say, in your parlance and between you and me, it’s from
somewhere people are large with cash but a little lacking on other things.”<o:p></o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-50775733584649905722021-10-15T05:30:00.001-07:002021-10-15T06:57:30.896-07:00PRIORITIES<p> The Alien C.W. doesn’t use profanity often, but I
swear I heard him growling “What the [something] from my office/music room. I
went in to see.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">There he was, shaped like a confederate army
officer or some such getup. I stared.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Hello Big Dope,” he said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Morning, What’s up?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Shtoopdbool++scheat”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Say what?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">His Galactic Universal Translator hummed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Communal insanity.” He glared at my computer
screen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What’s your GUT telling you?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Have you seen this?” He pointed at the screen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“All three of your so-called major news outlets.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I sipped my coffee. “What?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“The widows and orphans of my homeland weep.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Why?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Our fatherland falls, and nobody cares.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Elucidate.” He hates that word.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Would you care to know what the major news of
your species is today?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Of course.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Would you think starvation of our abandoned families?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Maybe.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Alas no. Those in our ruined cities facing
homelessness?”</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Maybe.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Alas no. Our veterans coming home to a parched
landscape?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Sounds possible.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Alas no.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What then?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A fat old washed-up actor flying a wee bit above
the ground.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A wee bit? What the …?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I learned that term somewhere. Has a nice ring to
it, wouldn’t you say?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“So, what did this, uh, actor do?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Some rich man flew him into the air a negligible
distance.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">It dawned on me. “A negligible distance? They
called it going into space.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He turned and shook his head at me. “I walked
farther to get on my spaceship bringing me here than he went into space.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Did you make the newspapers back on Falloonia?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He failed to see my humor. “Is your species
totally incapable of ranking … .” his GUT hummed. “Prioritizing what is
important?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I thought. “Not incapable as much as not inclined.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He sighed, turned of the computer, and said, “And
you wonder why they call Earth a third-universe planet.”<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-71952857408993270842021-09-16T06:55:00.001-07:002021-09-16T06:55:25.367-07:00INVOLVEMENT<p> The Alien C.W. was très upset. I could hear him
from the next room.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Shtoo++pitdazoles+,” he said, loud enough to be
heard outside. I walked in and found him shaped much like a middle-aged Kurt
Vonnegut Jr.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Say what?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Foul increment,” he practically screamed it at
me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Bitte?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Listen to my GUT,” he said. I heard his Galactic
Universal Translator begin to hum.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Never mind,” I said. “I think I get the picture.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What is it with your species?” he said, aiming the
question at me like he thought I might answer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“¿Qué?” I like to screw with him when he gets like
this.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What does it mean,” he said, “when one of your
leaders talks about waging a war with ‘no boots on the ground’ in some foreign
country peopled by your own species.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“It refers to using war to settle international
differences with another country without actually having our military personnel
involved in that country, so to speak.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">His GUT hummed and he listened. “And how is this
accomplished?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Remotely,” I said. “We can send planes from ships
and unmanned drones from Iowa, wiping them out like cleaning a windshield.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“To settle differences?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And if that doesn’t work?”</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Then we send troops.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And who comprises these troops? Do they hunt down
individuals to conduct these ‘boots on the ground’ operations?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Uh, no. They rely on volunteers now.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Such as the children of the leaders?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Uh, no. Others.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Like you?” he said. “No, I remember now. You actually
volunteered for war, didn’t you?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Kinda sorta.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">His Gut hummed. “Elucidate.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I reluctantly volunteered for what I thought would
be an assignment that wouldn’t involve my boots being on the ground, i.e. naval
forces.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“So what happened?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“They sent my boots and my ass to be on the ground.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He thought for a moment. “Can you see why Falloonian
Elders think your species might need recalling?”<o:p></o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-11988875179275119912021-09-12T06:53:00.001-07:002021-09-12T06:58:22.272-07:00A HOME<p> The Alien C.W. and I were walking about the farm talking, he in his best
impression of Albert Einstein and I as, well, I'm stuck with myself. We were taking bets on whether
we could solve the pressing crisis in the availability of affordable housing.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He had been silent for a spell, but then turned
and began to speak. “Someone once said that ‘the poor will be with us always.’
Is this not true?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What? That someone said it or that we are stuck
with the poor and huddled masses that Lady Liberty welcomes with such graciousness?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“This is no time for levity,” he said. “Did someone
say that?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes,” I said, “the Galilean is credited with that
bit of wisdom.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Was he correct?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I don’t know. Maybe he missed it this time. Or
maybe he’s changed his mind during the last two thousand years.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“You are familiar with this Abraham Maslow and his
so-called ‘hierarchy of needs’ are you not?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A passing acquaintance,” I said. “We’re not
joined at the hips, or anything like that.” I forgot about his beloved shape of
Lefty and Lucky, the conjoined twins.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“You know… you are still being pissy.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I think you mean ‘pithy’ don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">His Galactic Universal Translator hummed. “I’ll
stand by what I said.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“You always trust your Gut, then?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Consider the need for basic shelter,” he said. “That
was one of Herr Maslow’s most basic needs, am I right?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“So far so good.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I’ve done some research,” he said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Oh hell. I hate it when he does this to me. “And?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“The places that currently have affordable housing
available are those where many people do not want to live.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“To a large extent. Some neighborhoods in pre-Katrina
New Orleans broke the pattern, and ‘pre-gentrification Greenwich Village. A few
still exist.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And the places that need affordable housing are
the places where many want to live.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“One might say so.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Ostensimately in order to have homes that appreciate in value along with basic retail and services?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I think you mean ‘ostensibly’ but yes.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He consulted his GUT. “Ostensibly, they want
services, but don’t want the service workers nearby.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“One might say so.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“ And if we could <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>build affordable housing in those very places to
which people are fleeing in such droves …,”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“That’s not a likely prospect.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Why?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Another day. Another walk.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“If we could place said affordable housing there on the
free market, experience indicates that it will not remain affordable for long.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“That seems to be the case.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Then why does a new study indicate that if we
just made it easier to build low-cost housing in high-growth cities, the problem
would solve itself?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Because the study was done by east-coast grads of
‘Ivy-League Schools’ and not by people who need basic shelter or those who
profit from housing.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He stroked his chin and drew on his pipe. After
exhaling a dense, choking cloud of smoke he said, “That doesn’t make any sense.
Helping the poor from a comfortable room on a full stomach doesn’t actually scream
empathy, now does it? Clichés will not solve the affordable housing crisis,
only bold action that has, to this point been only voiced by prophets,
philosophers, and penniless preachers. Am I correct?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Let me get back to you on that.” He was on a roll
but I was wearying of our talk.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I mean, wouldn’t that be like appointing a group
of women to create laws addressing this sexual addiction among the males of
your species? Is this how you seek the truth?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I turned to look at him. “Hey,” I said. “Let’s go
check on the football scores.”<o:p></o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-26081553659598141702021-09-03T07:33:00.001-07:002021-09-03T07:33:46.987-07:00CHOICES<p> The Alien C.W. had been hiding from me since that
incident over the antique sewing machine. I was looking for him.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Oh wow.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I heard that from my work area and knew it meant trouble.
Surely enough, I walked in and found Arnold Awesome at my computer. Yeah, it
was the Alien himself in one of his favorite shapes. He turned and saw me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Hey sir,” this is beyond awesome. Come look.” he
said, pointing at the screen and seizing the initiative in one swift move.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I looked. “What? And don’t use the word ‘awesome.’
It makes you sound like a sophomore.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I am a sophomore,” he said. “But never mind that.
See here?” He pointed at the computer screen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“It’s just the daily news,” I said. I’ll read it
later, after you have straightened up your mess in the sewing room.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Mrs. Big Dope said for me not to worry about it,”
he said. “All is forgiven. Now check this out.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I’m special.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“No way.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Way.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“How?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I’m a man, least I will be in four more years.
This is, like, great.”<br />
“Don’t insert ‘like’ into your sentences. It makes you sound illiterate.
Besides, you are an alien.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Exactly.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Elucidate.” He loves that word.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Means I have choices now that I didn’t have.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What choices?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“In Falloonia, we have no choice about ‘Shtukwida++kreap,’
don’t you see?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“With what?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">His Galactic Universal Translator hummed. “What you
might call ‘marriage’ in your society.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Ahh.” I sipped my coffee.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“So look what I can do here. Your Elders say so.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What are the main two things in choosing a
mate-partner?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“You tell me.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Making sure you like them and making sure you can
procreate with them.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“That’s the way you see it?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yeah, but the order is important for us men.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I felt my eyes start to roll but controlled them. “How
so?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Some guys tell me that it seems that you like one
until you procreate and then find out that you were wrong. By then it’s too
late. You are left with all sorts of responsibility.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Your Elders say now we can procreate first—a man
like you or me can—then decide if we like them.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I’m confused. What happens next?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“If you don’t like them after the unit is born,
you just try another choice. What is it you say, ‘No harm, no foul’ or
something like that?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I sighed. “And what happens to the object of your
first attempt?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Who?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“The other half of the species required for procreation?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“The non-male bearing the child from the experience.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Oh,” he said. “They aren’t among the chosen.” He
closed the computer. “Look,” he said, “I have to run. I wasn’t being exactly
truthful about Mrs. Big Dope forgiving me. I’m lighting out for the next
territory over with some buddies.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Oh?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yeah, we’re trying out for parts in a movie they
are filming there.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A movie, you say?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yeah, it’s one of those ‘coming of age comedies’
about a boy like me spending his summer vacation seducing his girlfriend to win
a bet with his pals.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p> </o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-90197806343341968722021-08-29T07:15:00.001-07:002021-08-29T07:15:59.967-07:00POWER<p> I worry when he gets like this.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">The Alien C.W. was buried in a pile of papers and
notes this morning looking much like a harried professor at “publish or perish”
time. He paid no attention to me. I sat, sipped my coffee, and watched. Actually,
I sometimes like it when he is quiet. We are still under a restraining order on
account of the “garage band” he started despite the fact that we have no garage.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Anyhow, he finally looked up and saw me. “I’m busy,”
he said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I can see.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Minor assignment for the Falloonian Elders.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Don’t mind me. I’ll not interrupt you.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Good,” he said. He returned to his work.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He shuffled papers, wrote a note, and turned back
to me. “It’s a report tracing the development of mental cognizance in your
species, from the end of the Neanderthals to present. Pardon me if I’m too busy
to visit.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I nodded. Minor assignments require concentration
as well as major ones.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He struck through some writing and looked at me. “It
was developing well for a while, cognizance was. Now excuse me.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I nodded.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He retained his stare. “You were making great
progress.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Oh?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes. Your ancestors discovered that dances didn't
make it rain and sought the physical facts. This led to findings that allowed the Egyptians to forecast flooding phenomena that led to a
stable civilization lasting for a longer time than that which has passed since
their last great empire. Now if you will excuse me, I’m busy.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I nodded.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He didn’t return to his work. “I found it amusing
at first that your ancestors tried to turn lead into gold.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I nodded.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“But then I discovered, from reading this,” he held
up a worn copy of <i>The Golden Bough</i> by Sir James George Frazer, “that this
seeming folly actually led your folks to a development of the Scientific Method
in research.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“So our development went well?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Not really. I’m sorry. It faltered, but I can’t
go into it now.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I nodded.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He put the book aside and turned to me again. “Seems
apparent to me that religion hindered the development.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Oh? How?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Can’t you see I’m busy?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I nodded. He started to go back to work but stopped.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Seems that religion led to an understanding of
power, and how to use it, as opposed to the seeking of knowledge.” He reached and
held up a copy of the <i>Bible</i>. “These folks weren’t very high on
knowledge.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“No,” I said. “No they weren’t. You can ask Paul of Tarsus if you happen to run into him during one of your enphasngs. ”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He ignored me. “That set the stage for rule by force,
over rule by reason, as a method of retaining power.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Oh really?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes, all because of religion. When the dark side
of politics joins the anti-cognizance stance of religion, all hell, pardon the
allusion, may break loose: darkness and destruction, with the aid of religion
as a tool. Now you’ve bothered be enough. I must work.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Fine,” I said. “But I wouldn’t publish your
findings here on Earth.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Are you kidding?” he said. He buried his nose
back into his notes.<o:p></o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-12936787960605169312021-08-27T06:54:00.008-07:002021-08-27T06:54:53.816-07:00FAME<p> I came through the living room and C.W. was reading
news on my wife’s Ipad. He was in the somewhat unusual shape of a well-dressed, and very attractive, teenage girl. He/she was shaking his/her head.</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What’s up,” I asked.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“<i>Seelishkrepi++sar</i>,” he said, being himself,
the alien. Then I heard his Galactic Universal Translator hum.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Say what?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">His Gut was Telling him something.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Bizarre,” he said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“There’s a feature article in your news source
about the passing of a woman who became famous for having sex with every member
of a Rock and Roll band in one night. The lead singer mentioned it in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zc_JcGuH5Z8" target="_blank">one of their hit songs</a>.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I seem to remember,” I said. “So?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Did you know her?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Someone pointed her out to me in a bar once,” I said,
“but I can claim neither acquaintance nor recipience.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And she was famous for that act?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Well, that and stories she told about performing same-same
for other bands and famous musicians who came to town. They call them ‘groupies’
and she was the national heroine.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“So what worthwhile achievements garnered her such
notice? How did she earn the acclaim?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Just being famous, I suppose. You aren’t the first
visitor who asked me about her.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He retreated into his character.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“So,” she asked. “If I do the same, can I, like, be
famous? I mean, like, you know, for, like, having sex with a famous person or
maybe more than one.” The eyes that looked into mine were as blue as a quiet
winter’s sky and beaming from a face as fresh and innocent as a newborn lamb’s.
“My friends, like, tell me I should become somebody, and I’m, like, I don’t
know how.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Why don’t you read something besides the news,” I
said.<o:p></o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-30531252958289855132021-08-26T06:31:00.003-07:002021-08-26T06:31:29.306-07:00COGNIZANCE<p> When I walked into my office/music room this morning,
there sat Charles Darwin. Of course, it was the Alien C.W. shapeshifted, but gosh,
he looked like the photos of Charles Darwin. I couldn’t think of an appropriate
greeting. I finally managed, “Dude.”</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I never said it,” came the reply.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Never said what?” I sat my coffee on the desk and
sat.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Most of the things they attribute to me.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“The ‘Mark Twain Effect’ you mean.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What’s a mark twain?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A person,” I said, remembering that C.W.
sometimes gets deeply immersed in his character when he does what he calls “enphasing.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Elucidate.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“False attribution,” I said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Expand.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Saying someone said something they didn’t.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Clarify.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Like when you said my wife said you could borrow
our car when you said I said it would be okay.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Embellish.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Misquoted. Now what’s up?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I never said it.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Said what?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“That evolution was ‘the survival of the fittest.’
That counts for two misattributes or whatever you call them.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Two?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes. I never used the work evolution.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“I think I read that somewhere.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Then you know I never attributed descent through modification
as ‘survival of the fittest’ or such nonsense.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“So I understand.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“How silly,” he said. “If it occurred over
millions of years that blindness would allow some of your species success in surviving
on scarce resources, causing a change in sight characteristics, would that mean
they were fit in all respects?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Not by the standards of the film industry.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“The what?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Never mind.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And what if it happened that the unknowing, uneducated,
unlearned, and non-cognitive were to prove more adaptable to seizing political
power? Fitness or extinction?” His face dropped, the long white beard forming a
cushion. Then his head rose. “Tell me,” he said. “If A equals B and B equals C,
does A equal B?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Good,” he said. “There’s hope. But you have no power,
do you?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Not a bit.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">His head dropped again. After a long silence, I rose
and turned to leave the room. As I reached the door, I heard a soft snoring.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p> </o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-14041780811539152562021-08-22T06:05:00.001-07:002021-08-22T06:05:24.020-07:00COUNTING<p> The Alien C.W. was bent over my desk this morning
looking much like a harried accountant. He looked up, raised his green visor,
and stared at me. “Ah,” he said. “Just the person I wanted to see.” He stopped,
took a pencil, and drew a line under a line of figures and returned to staring.
“Did you find out?”</p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“About what?” I sipped my coffee with a great deal
of deliberation. I like to mess with his three minds.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“About the census that your people take ever few
weeks.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Ten years,” I said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Earth years,” he said. “When are you going to
switch to Galaxy Time?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“In ten seconds,” I said. He didn’t laugh.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Well, was it accurate? Did you ask her?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“She’s been retired for some time,” I said. “In
Earth years. She said it was a bit different this time. Said the census was a
good as the people and institutions that undertake it.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And it is important?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“How?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“To orient government aid.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Your government does that?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">It used to. Now the main purpose of the census,
according to the news, is to determine legislative power.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He stared.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Oh,” I said, “And bragging rights.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He leaned back and put his fingers over his eyes
in the universal gesture of exasperation. I could tell he missed his other two sets
of eyes and hands. He took a deep breath and spoke. “You Earthlings,” he said. “Bragging
rights?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Elucidate.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“It’s like this: If your community, city, or state
is growing in population, it is a good place.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“And if it doesn’t?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I made a gesture of a knife being drawn across my throat.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Do your people understand the principle of <i>Skroodeep++</i>,”
he stopped. Thought and stared at the ceiling. I could tell his Galactic Universal
Translator was speaking to him. He nodded and said, “The principle of ‘cause
and effect’ at all?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A few do.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“When they do, how do they assign a cause to
population growth?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Most often they attribute it to what they call a ‘quality
school system’ and leave it at that.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“A quality school system?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Bingo.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“What?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“That means you are correct.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">He stopped. A frown of thought contorted his face.
Then he relaxed. “Wait one,” he said, turning to a note pad on his far side. He
scribbled something and turned back. “Okay,” he said. “Where were we?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Before I could speak, he said, “Just a second. I
forgot something I was supposed to do for Mrs. Big Dope. I’ll be right back.”
With that, he arose and left the room. He no longer takes promises to that
individual lightly.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I couldn’t resist. Checking to make sure the wasn’t
watching, I walked over and checked his note pad. On it he had written a brief
note, which puzzled me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">“Falloonian Elders' Report,” it started. Then, “Dog
whistles.”<o:p></o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-42484328334901140202021-08-20T06:52:00.001-07:002021-08-20T06:54:01.855-07:00JOBS<p> I found the Alien C.W. picking my new guitar when I arose and went to my "music room" this morning. You won't believe what I saw. He had chosen the shape of a country singer and was belting out a marvelously weird rendition of the old standard "Working Man Blues."</p><p>He stopped when I walked in. "Tell me something, Slick," he said.</p><p>"I told you once not to call me that."</p><p>"Oh yeah, I forgot, Hotshot."</p><p>I ignored him. "Put that guitar down, I had to lie to the Commanding Officer about how much it cost. It's not for you to destroy."</p><p>He returned it tot the case. "Tell me something, Sport."</p><p>"As in, what?"</p><p>"Hit's Fridee, ain't it? trrying his best to imitate a southern drawl.</p><p>"All day."</p><p>"Why do your people hate their jobs so much that they only live for Fridays?"</p><p>"Not all of them do."<br /></p><p>"Then let's you and I write a song titled, "I Love My Job" and see how it sells."</p><p>He had me there. "Don't you have something to do?"<br /></p><p>"I'm doing it. It's called 'research.' You ought to try it sometime."</p><p>"Tell that to the Magahatters."</p><p>"They hate their jobs the most, don't they?"</p><p>I sensed a rocky road ahead. "Do Falloonians love their jobs?"</p><p>"You wouldn't understand. Why don't employers make the jobs more fun?"</p><p>"I don't know. Profits I suppose."</p><p>"But look," he said, pulling a worn and dusty book from a table, "This says that happy workers produce more."</p><p>"I'm going to leave you to your research now."</p><p>"Good," he said. "I'm working on another hit."</p><p>"I don't think that's a good idea," I said. "You had the Political Correctness Police descending on us with your last."</p><p>"This one's different," he said. "It's called 'How You Gonna Walk Straight With This Job Up Your A…?</p><p>"Stop it," I said.</p><p>"Asset account," he said. "What?"</p><p>I walked out, closed the door, and went for breakfast, walking straight as I could.</p><p><br /></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-84916618395338607462021-08-19T07:30:00.001-07:002021-08-19T10:40:42.899-07:00<p> THE ACT OF <span> WAR</span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">An old friend showed up this morning. Yes, it was
the Alien C.W. Showed up, best as I can guess, as Mark Twain. He was still up
to his old tricks. Said he had been visiting other galaxies where the craziness
wasn’t as severe. He acted as if nothing had happened, which was unsettling.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“Had a question,” he said, “how long do your wars
last?”</span></div><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“What is the Standard Unifying Consistency Kinetic
for engaging in a war. Your government must have an SUCK factor for controlling
costs and casualties. And the private sector must have a metric for projecting
Pundit Underwriting costs. The PU factor must be severe in times of war.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“And you want to know how long they last?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“It’s a phenomenon unique to your planet,” he
said. “Same as your penchant for knowingly being burnt by overexposure to sunlight.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“They last as long as they last,” I said. “No
longer. Once side just quits and then the other has to as well.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“Sort of like your standard act of sex?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">I stopped to think, and he continued.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“If you don’t have a SDF, they, wars that is,
could last 20, maybe 100 years,” he said. See, some of the other galaxies
are wondering about your planet passing the Chiroptera Scat Stability test. Too
low on the CSS might bring about serious action. The ship from Tulegria that
dropped your Initiation Cells on Earth are beginning to fear they have made a
mistake.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“The what kind of test?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“It’s named after a joke about bat dropping and
insanity. Tulegrians have this weird sense of humor.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“You mean like bat sh--?” I stopped.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“Precisely. Now our research shows that not only
might these irrational acts be indeterminate, there is also the profit motive. Is
it really true that both sides in these CSS acts are financed from the same sources?
If so, that will increase scrutiny and accelerate repercussions.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“What sort of repercussions.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;">“You are familiar with the concept of a virus, aren’t
you?”</span><o:p></o:p></p>JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-83530267055272679382020-01-11T06:38:00.001-08:002020-01-11T06:38:39.973-08:00Logic<div class="MsoNormal">
I heard this conversation among two of your species while walking in
the park yesterday. I think it may have something to do with why the young of
your species don’t trust what they call “The Boomers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Overpopulation is destroying the world.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh? That's bad.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, people are having fewer kids.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh? That's good.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, there won't be enough voters for our party.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh? That's bad.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, there won't be enough for the other party, either.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh? That's good.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No, neither side can win elections.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Oh? But won't it force compromise?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Are you stupid or something?”<o:p></o:p></div>
JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-83712895298414303212020-01-10T05:49:00.000-08:002020-01-10T05:57:21.745-08:00RoyaltySometimes I have a hard time explaining things to my Falloonian
elders. Perhaps the most difficult is why American <i>homo sapiens</i> would worship
a figure like the one Big Dope calls “The Galilean,” but then vote for this
Donald Trump to be president of an important country.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve quit trying on that one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s another. It involves American <i>homo sapiens</i> as
well. Notice I said, American <i>homo sapiens</i>. I may need to ask your help,
dear readers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It involves this group of what I can only use the American term
“deadbeats” to describe. They are known as the “British Royal Family.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They don’t work.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
They don't earn.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They don’t govern.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They don’t, apparently, think before they act. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, that last problem may not be confined to British gentry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, now one couple among them claims they are going to “step
back” from British royalty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Say what?” Oh, excuse me, I sometimes slip into American
idioms. Don’t know why I did just then.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway. What do they mean by “step back”?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The husband is not going to give up his taxpayer-funded allowance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s not going to get a job.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s not going to change his name.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s not going to put them into a witness-protection type program.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sounds like all they intend to do is move somewhere away
from parental guidance.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I might can see why the British put up with the antics. It’s
an old habit on their part. Of course they are free, as I understand it, to chop off a few heads if things get out of hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can even see why some American <i>homo sapiens</i> find it
a bit interesting. It sorta reminds one of cute kitten posts on social media.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I can’t understand is the obsessive news coverage of their
goings and comings, this and the other siblings in this family.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
I'm talking about day-to-day coverage, sometimes minute-to-minute coverage.<br />
<br />
In American newspapers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Aren’t there any cute kitten stories to write about?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-33879404838084417662019-12-31T05:55:00.000-08:002019-12-31T05:55:01.946-08:00Resolutions<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of all things. I may file a complaint. The Falloonian Elders
never intended that I face such an indecency. I can’t find a word in my
Galactic Universal Translator to describe the insult.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No matter how my GUT responds, I guess I’ll make an attempt
to follow instructions my host has given me. That is to prepare a list of something
he calls “New Year’s Resolutions.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He says they serve to make a person better. How could I
become any better? Here are his suggestions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- Don’t assume the shape of Stephen Miller again. The neighbor’s
kids are having nightmares and cows at a nearby dairy still refuse to give milk.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- Don’t leave Falloonian films like <i>Dephraslinko Duzetwiph++
Dallstron IV</i> on Big Dope’s laptop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- Don’t practice Falloonian recipes in Mrs. Big Dope’s kitchen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- Don’t mention Michael Vick around Demon Dog again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- Don’t get Left Head to drink green tea and ask him to sing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- Don’t send anymore nude photos of me, as a very prominent
lady, with fan letters to Franklin Graham.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
- And, finally, stop with things like answering the door as
Fred Rogers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not a word, you will notice about weight loss and getting
into shape. Besides, he banned me from the gym after what he calls “that Roadrunner
stunt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Must go. My GUT is bothering me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-1534835085528455982019-12-29T08:03:00.002-08:002019-12-29T08:08:29.784-08:00FilmSunday mornings offer the best hope for a standard routine
at <i>La Casa Big Dope</i>. (How do you like that dear readers? I’m learning to
write in what my GUT calls, “your idioms.”) Anyway, it is comforting to know
that we will watch a film on a show about a movement called “Film Noir.” I
think that means “dark films,” literally “black films.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Odd, there’s few black actors in any of these films. The
only ones play maids, servants, or eternally comedic characters afraid of everything
from ghosts to their masters. I had assumed that the style featured the
so-called “race films” produced between 1910 and 1950. Some of those avoided
the stereotypes. I don’t think white Americans liked them very much.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But no. These films, from what my GUT tells me, represent a a
style or genre of cinematographic film marked by a mood of pessimism, fatalism,
and menace. See? Dark, like I said. I don’t think Falloonians would like them
very much. I like them better when I assume the shape of some cowboy actor or other. Hopalong Cassidy works well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next question: why does your species like them so much? Is
darkness of spirit appealing to your species?<br />
<br />
In the real “black films,” there
is music, laughter, and dancing, lots and lots of dancing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I like dancing. Music too. I even like black people. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not sure I would make a good American, no matter what
shape I chose.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-70011896913050674082019-12-27T06:43:00.001-08:002019-12-27T08:09:44.849-08:00FrustrationBeing in the same room with Big Dope while he works on his computer is more fun than a Falloonian game of <i>Grubendimbihgdewhasit</i>.<br />
<br />
Don't ask.<br />
<br />
I curled up shaped as Timmie Joe the 14-year old nerd and worked some kindergarten puzzles based on matrix algebra. They were simple so I could watch BD and do them at the same time. He was trying to program a new Christmas present onto his laptop computer.<br />
<br />
To say it was sorta funny would be like calling your president sorta odd.<br />
<br />
He claims that software applications used to come with instructions. I guess I believe him.<br />
<br />
"Nothing but these %$^**&^! cartoon sketches." I just listened. "How am I supposed to know what they mean?"<br />
<br />
He punched some more.<br />
<br />
"Notifinga!"<br />
<br />
He had me on that one so I waited.<br />
<br />
"Numbah &^%$*#@ ten."<br />
<br />
I think that was Vietnamese for something bad.<br />
<br />
<i>"Du bist und Arschloch!"</i><br />
<br />
Uh, my GUT tells me that is German.<br />
<br />
"<i>Ewwscray ooyay</i>"<br />
<br />
Can't force my GUT to respond to that one. I'm sending off for an update.<br />
<br />
"<i>Bastardo</i>!"<br />
<br />
Most of you probably understand that one.<br />
<br />
"<i>Fils de pute</i>."<br />
<br />
"V<i>ive la france," </i> I say.<br />
<br />
Finally, sweat pouring from his face, he turned to me. "One favor I ask."<br />
<br />
"And that is what?"<br />
<br />
"My obituary."<br />
<br />
"What about it"<br />
<br />
"To read as follows."<br />
<br />
"Yes," I turned the puzzle page over and prepared to write.<br />
<br />
"Died from multi-lingual exasperation brought on by an over-exposure to learning curves."JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-21453273929977017762019-12-25T06:12:00.000-08:002019-12-25T06:12:20.203-08:00HappinessMr. and Mrs. Big Dope are taking the day off, so I slipped in to use the main computer. Here's wishing you, on behalf of all Falloonians, a wondrous Christmas Day, although we still have a hard time understanding why your species chooses to argue even about what to call your most beloved time of the year.JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-75112611637736273152019-12-24T08:37:00.001-08:002019-12-24T08:42:12.523-08:00TrainingI'm frustrated. I'm trying to get my month-end report ready for the Falloonian Elders. Big Dope is trying to train their rescue dog to behave.<br />
<br />
"Sit!"<br />
<br />
"Sit!"<br />
<br />
"No!"<br />
<br />
"Sit!"<br />
<br />
"No!"<br />
<br />
"Now you behave!"<br />
<br />
"Cut that out."<br />
<br />
"No!"<br />
<br />
Of course I could shape up, then go in and talk to the dog for him. I tried that once though, and it didn't turn out too well. I even sat down and talked to the mutt. I explained to her that if she would quit chewing the furniture, wait until she was outdoors to "excuse herself" and not jump on everyone she met, things might go smoother.<br />
<br />
She just barked and sniffed my backside. "Wooof," she said.<br />
<br />
"No, really," I said. "The just want some peace and quiet. How do you think this bad behavior makes them feel?"<br />
<br />
"Rough," She said, then laughed.<br />
<br />
"Now cut that out," I said. "And where are all your toys?"<br />
<br />
"Roof." she said, pointing a paw upwards.<br />
<br />
I gave up and started walking away.<br />
<br />
"Well really," she said, "do you want to take away the only pleasure I gain from being stuck in this veritable prison?"JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-56716199676433678172019-12-23T06:40:00.000-08:002019-12-23T06:40:51.904-08:00Paradigms<b>Ask the Falloonian Time</b>: People ask me all the time to name
the biggest difference between Falloonians and your species here on Earth, as
if three heads and the ability to shift shapes at will weren’t enough. There
are too many others to list, but here is one.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We enjoy a practice known as <i>Chivumibreek</i>. A rough
translation in your language would be “Allow those things that have occurred in
the past to remain those things that have occurred in the past.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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My research shows that you employed such a philosophy in the
past, but large segments of your population seems to regard it as a sign of
weakness these days. The man who fashioned Christianity, this Apostle Paul of
yours, reportedly wreaked havoc on early believers before he obtained the spirit.
King Henry the Fifth of England enjoyed quite a rounder’s life before he quit
and saved his country. They say that Catherine the Great was a little loose in
the uterus.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That’s all changed. It seems that within the most liberal-minded
segment of your American society, a mistake, no matter how distant in the past, or juvenile in conception, stays branded one’s reputation like a tattoo on a
sailor. I’ve heard they even have groups of “purity warriors” who guard against
redemption in any form. There was a distantly related, and self-annihilating, practice
among a group I read about called “The Shakers.” They became defunct, it
appears, after abandoning the practice of sexual intercourse because of its original sin nature. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Not so for those on the right who practice a particular brand
of, shall we say, "ad hoc morality." From all observations, they pick out what we
might call a “salvation date,” or the date on which they assumed the persona of
righteousness, and forbid anyone from questioning any actions that occurred before
that date. For some reason, the press obliges.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Of course, some don’t even have to take that step. All they
must do, it seems to an alien observer, is to denounce the things and people
you hate, and the mantle of righteousness falls on them like fairy dust descending
on an angel’s wings.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Since this group is unified, internationally connected, free
from traditional societal paradigms, and heavily funded, they seem destined to
rule your planet as long as possible.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That’s why the Falloonian Elders have ordered me to stay
packed for a quick departure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-1292713030038847752019-12-22T10:21:00.002-08:002019-12-23T06:45:15.526-08:00Blue Eyes and PolioThis time of year, I get confused. There is so much mythology
floating around, that it is hard for me to accept that your species has managed
to escape Earth’s gravitational field. Yes, the distance involved is only relative
to a fraction of a layer of soap film compared to real space travel. But it is
an accomplishment for a species that accepts that an old fat man delivers free
presents to every believing kid on the planet in one night.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Big Dope says I must develop what he calls a “suspension of
logic.” That’s one term that my Galactic Universal Translator cannot accommodate.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Although my GUT recoiled at the suggestion that I try to make my Earth hosts happy, I tried. I failed. Suspend logic? It was logic that enabled
me to travel to your planet from a couple of galaxies away. It was logic that
has nearly rid your planet of polio, although I understand that a breed of your
species that calls itself “libertarians” wants to bring it back, along with
other nearly defunct diseases.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Anyway. The thing that confuses me this time of year, is what
you call the “Nativity Story.” That’s the story of the birth of the figure Big
Dope calls “The Galilean.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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As he would say later in life, the Galilean, in what one of my
friends calls “The Gig on The Hilltop,” assures the crowd that he is not about
to destroy “The Law” but to fulfill it. He’s referring, of course to the Old
Testament law, largely set forth in the book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. Here’s
the rub, to a lover of logic. According to the latter source, The Law, as the
Galilean calls it, would have had his mother taken to the gates of the city and
stoned to death before he was born.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I mentioned that at the supper table the other night while shaped
as former president Ronald Reagan. My companions both laughed. The answer? If a
snake can be made to talk, a pregnant virgin can withstand a stoning.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s going to take your species a long time to reach the
next galaxy over.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Sorry, must run. One of my favorite films is about to show.
Ironically, it’s about the life of the Galilean. Oddly, the main character has
blue eyes, but who cares?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493340888139103205.post-70421018043671362212019-12-21T08:06:00.002-08:002019-12-21T08:11:06.633-08:00JoyDo I have to be careful or what? Take this morning for
example. I got in trouble for trusting my GUT, my Galactic Universal
Translator. I maintain my innocence. See what you think, dear reader.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Big Dope constantly loses his wife. That’s partly because he
loses things and partly because she’s a diminutive person and moves in random
and undetectable movements, like some distant star which we can’t see but we
discern its presence by the movement of other celestial bodies toward it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Big Dope is walking around looking for his wife and can’t
find her anywhere. I’m in my usual early morning shape of Arnold Awesome watching
a <i>Bowery Boys</i> movie. He interrupts my act of minding my own business and
asks if I’ve seen her.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Nope. Want me to look for her?” Sometimes she hides from
him early in the morning because he goes around singing old church hymns, and
that gets on her nerves something awful.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Nah,” he says. “I guess the Rapture has occurred.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“The rapture?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“Don’t you know anything? Look it up.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I go back to the movie. Halfway through it, guess who walks
by looking for her husband? I disavow any knowledge and go back to watching
Huntz Hall and the gang.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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“I guess he thinks I have disappeared forever again,” she
says.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I make the mistake of trusting my GUT to try and help. “You may be right,” I say, “he did mention something concerning a feeling of
intense pleasure or joy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Now I’m on what they call “double secret probation” and can’t
watch TV for the rest of the day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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What did I do? <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">I can’t seem to acquire or secure anything as a result
of a contest, conflict, bet, or other endeavor no matter how hard I try. </span>Oh, and those celestial bodies that we can't see but we know are there? The Falloonians discovered your planet by a similar, but opposite, phenomenon. We knew you were here from the sight of so many other bodies moving away from you.</div>
JimmieGhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01715491235864541591noreply@blogger.com0