413: Communications Are Us

“No, let’s see, not ‘oodagh,’ more like ‘oaaard.’ Yes that’s it.” I heard the sound of computer keys clacking. Then, “Be sure to alter volume with each syllable. This is especially effective for older customers.”

I rounded the corner and walked into the room. There sat C.W. at my desk and working with my computer. He had taken the shape of a young man in his thirties, looking much like a stockbroker, political junkie, or perhaps a defendant at a murder trial.

“Just a moment,” he said. He took breath and blurted, “Wiiikledmardls-wuchlickor-dalysshhicletoody?”

“What on earth?” I said. “Are you working on your Falloonian?”

“No,” he said. “I have a contract. A thought struck him. “Urdootallybeesimoupnoint.”

“What?”

“Pliadouantodsuchantweeedur.” He continued without paying me any attention.

“What kind of contract and with whom?”

“A teaching contract,” he said, at last giving me his full attention. “It’s for a fast food federation.”

“A what?”

“Fast food federation.”

“And what are you doing for a fast food federation?”

“Writing a manual on confusonics.”

“On what?”

“Confusonics. It’s a training manual.”

“Who for?”

“The kids who take orders for fast-food drive-throughs.”

“Come again?”

“It teaches them to speak so there is no possibility that they can be understood by anyone trying to make an order.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, no, the corporations have found that confusion makes money and money makes profits.”

“Confusion?”

“Yes. Confused customers then to order more expensive items.”

“So they teach the kids how not to be understood?”

“Of course,” he said. “Comprehension is the enemy, and is to be avoided."

I shook my head. “It works,” I said.

“It even works better when they rush the customer. Unhurried customers tend to buy cheaper items.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve found a calling.”

“Business is booming,” he said. “We offer free, introductory chewing gum with this product. Want to help?”

“I don’t know.”

“I have an assignment just made for you. It’s from your own profession.”

“Urban planning?”

“Right. It’s for another manual.”

“What manual?”

“It’s called Misunderstanding Upon Demand.”

“Misunderstanding?”

"Good! Next man. How great I am and what
 a pleasure  to serve under me." - C.E.

“Yep. The subtitle will be, Let Your Work Be Clear As MUD Can Make It.”

I must have looked confused, for he took a sheet from the table and read from it. “The plan, using a broad array of self-empowerment aids, will allow citizens to efficaciously move through a time-synchronized myriad of wayfinding enablements to established a community-oriented sense of place.”

I must have looked confused, although a hint of familiar made its lonely way through my comprehensatory mechanisms, as we say.

“That’s just the back-cover blurb of the training manual,” he said. “Neat huh?”

“Are you serious about all this?”

“Maybe you’d rather work on an assignment for the Army.” He picked up another pile of sheets and read. “The strategic and service-wide transitional depositions activated as comprehensive tactical support directives requiring the accommodating of the mandatory incorporation of gender-variable war-wagers into combat-planning doctrine, as previously set forth, are hereby non-mandated and superseded, and the provisions herein are effectuated and installed for immediate dissemination.” He smiled. “Neat huh?”

“So you write training manuals now?”

“Oh, much more than that. I have a major study I’m working on.”

“What kind of study?”

“And in-depth analysis of why young Americans use texting as a replacement for face-to-face conversations.”

See also:

Delta Dreaming

All Hat No Cattle

Enjoy these at all? If so, order Big Dope's Book at Wattensaw Press, Amazon, or other book sellers. It will make him so happy. Also, click on an ad. It earns him a little and costs the advertiser, sort of a win-win.

226. Corporationhood

“Man, we’ve got to get into this religion racket.”

“Some of my friends wouldn’t call it a racket,” I said.

“What would you call it?” C.W. was all turned out in expensive clothes (Heaven knows where he got them), a fake platinum watch, and a haircut that looked like three plates of spaghetti piled on top of one another.

“Some call it a pursuit of spirituality,” I said, “a search for grace.”

“Oh, that’s them old-timey folks,” he said. “I’m talking about modern times. I tell, you, there’s gold in those pews.”

“How so?”

He closed his eyes as if praying for understanding. “Don’t you read the news?”

“I quit … too depressing.”

“Well,” he said, “the evangelism stars are aligning themselves.”

“Uh,” I said, “I think you are mixing metaphors or something like that.”

“Whatever,” he said. “The time is right.”

“The time is right for what?”

“My new religion.”

“I see. You are going to start a new religion.”

“Yes. And I need some rent money for a tabernacle.”

“I’m not sure there are many tabernacles for rent around here.”

“Oh, a simple coliseum will do for now.”

“And this new church will be called what?”

“The Church of the Corporate Covenant.”

“The what?”

“You heard me.” He said. “It’s a church for corporation people only we will allow other types of people as well.”

“And whose idea was this?”

“I got it from your Superior To All Others Court.”

“Our Supreme Court?”

“Why do you repeat me so often?”

“A habit, I suppose. But how is our Supreme Court going to help you start a church?”

“Not help, enable.”

“How so?”

“Haven’t you heard? Corporations have human feelings like everyone else, including religious feelings.”

“And?”

“Laws must respect those and make allowances.”

“So?”

“What corporation wants to pay taxes?”

“Uh …”

“What corporation wants to allow a woman to run it?”

“Well …”

“What corporation in American wants to pay higher wages than does a corporation in Sri Lanka?”

“Ah …”

“And black folks, give me a break. They steal more than they produce. Ask Bill O’Reilly If we didn’t have to hire them, corporate profits would soar.”

“Corporate profits are already soaring.”

“But just wait,” he said, “until we don’t have to hire cripples anymore.”

“C.W., I can’t believe I hear you saying these things.”

“I’m merely speaking for the Lord of Corporations. I’m a way-pointer on the path to salvation.”

I was beginning to understand. “So you will set up a church that objects to all these restrictions on religious grounds.”

Isn't it thrilling? your new
Civil Rights movement. - C.W.

“In exact terms, without vagueness.”

“And exactly why do you think it will work?”

“Because you are a Level Nineteen Species.”

“A level what?”

“A species that has been walking upright for less than half a million years. It’s a Galactic Council term. It indicates provisionality.”

“And?”

“You may not have long so let’s get busy.”

 

Click on an ad. We need money for our adventures.

And check our www.wattensawpress.com

- C.W.

212. War

“Tell me about war.” Oh no. I hate it when C.W. gets like this. He assumes the form of a 12-year old boy and starts asking questions for which I don’t have good answers.

I said, “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know why.”

“I don’t think there is a good answer,” I said.

“Good people die in wars,” he said.

“That they do.”

“Then why do some of your species love it so much, including many in your country?”

“I wish I knew,” I said.

“You’re celebrating the beginning of one a hundred years ago,” he said. “Why?”

“I don’t think we celebrate it,” I said, “I think we simply observe it.”

“The delicately complex and understated inferences of your language confuse me.”

“The ‘subtleties’ of our language cause much confusion,” I said.

“Could that be one of the reasons you love war so much?”

“I don’t love war.”

“Do you hate it?”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you protest it?”

“Don’t you have something you could be doing? Have you reported to the Falloonian Elders lately?”

“This War of the Entire World Number One,” he said. “Why did it start?”

“Someone assassinated an archduke.”

“He must have been an important one.”

“Not too important, but it set two countries at one another.”

“For revenge? Couldn’t the guilty country simply have paid the other what the man was worth?”

“The country wasn’t guilty,” I said. “just one person.”

“A corporation person?”

“No,” I said, “the other kind. Corporation persons don’t go to war.”

“Why not?” he said. “They stand to make lots of money from them.”

“Hey,” I said, “why don’t we go fishing?” He has taken up this activity lately and it has become one of his favorites, as long as I bait his hook for him.”

“So all the countries of the world chose sides and went to war because one archduke was killed?”

“Not exactly.”

“Why exactly?”

“Only two went to war.”

“That’s not the whole world.”

“Only two at first. Then there were treaties and alliances.”

He thought for a moment, “Things written on paper?”

“Yes.”

“The entire world went to war because of things written on paper?”

I thought for a moment.“I’m afraid so. Those dragged the other countries into the conflict.”

“Things written on paper?”

“Yes.”

“What was written on your country’s?”

“Uh …,” I struggled. “Our country didn’t have one.”

“But it entered in anyway?”

“Late in the conflict,” I said, “but yes, we entered the fray.”

At times like this, when he struggles to assimilate illogic, I swear I can smell electrodes frying.”

“I’m beginning to understand,” he said.

I was relieved. “Now,” I said, “let’s dig us some worms and go fishing.”

He ignored me. “Other countries go to war over things written on paper and your country joins in because it seems like fun.”

“That’s a gross generalization,” I said.

“And this current conflict in what they call your planet’s ‘Middle East’ that threatens to start War of the Entire World Number Three is being generated by things written on paper over two thousand years ago.”

Wouldn't it be nice if your corporation people said their
religion prohibited them from supporting war? - C.W.

I stopped in my tracks and thought, but I didn’t have a ready answer.

“The world may see a conflict,” he said, “involving the most modern technology, including nuclear weapons, because of words written on paper by bronze-age scribblers who didn’t even know that the earth orbits around the sun?”

I struggled hopelessly. “Well it may have been papyrus.”

He looked at me with true sadness in his eyes. “You really are a big dope,” he said.

“Hey,” I said, “I’m not the one who wants to go to war. I’d rather go fishing.”

 

Be sure to click some ads. I need that computer.

And check out www.wattensawpress.com
Your Pal - C.W.

208: Personhood

“You’re embarrassed?”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t know.” I was trying to calm C.W. but he was having none of it. He had just returned from a meeting somewhere with the other aliens from Falloonia, the ones that do the same thing he does, in different parts of the world. Since he had taken on the shape of a drugstore cowboy, with hat, boots, and a belt with a buckle large enough to serve lunch on, I can only imagine the spectacle presented at that gathering.

“This dude from Barcelona kept asking if I had dated any corporations,” he said. “Then the one from Moscow wanted to know how it smelled when a corporation broke wind. And of course Pauline the Parisian wanted to know where they shopped for shoes.”

“That was pretty bad,” I admitted. He was upset, naturally, at the recent ruling by the United States Supreme Court that indicated corporations were people with religious feelings. How was I to explain that to him?

“They wanted to know,” he said, almost in tears, “if, since they held religious beliefs, they were baptized, and how?”

I drew a deep breath and exhaled. He continued. “I’m the laughing stock of the galaxy.”

“Look,” I said, “you have to understand that we are a nation of laws, even if we don’t like some of them.”

“How can you pass a law making a corporation a human?” he said. “That’s piddelwadca,”

“It’s what?”

He thought. “That’s something like a cross between ‘brain of crap’ and mental masturbation,” he said. What you would call amusing or laughable through obvious absurdity, incongruity, exaggeration, or eccentricity.”

“I think,” I said, “you are trying to say it was ludicrous.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

I ignored him. “Don’t any of the others ever witness anything odd in their assigned locations?”

After a moment’s thought, he said, “Well there is this one stricture somewhere against copulating with an orangutan, but I think it is meant as a joke.”

“A joke?”

“I think so … something about producing too many soccer fans.”

I said, “I see.”

He said, “I don’t.”

At this point I tried to change the subject. “What say take a vacation down to the seashore soon? We could both use some rest. Maybe we could find us a nude beach somewhere.”

“That reminds me,” he said. “Do Jewish corporations get circumcised if they are male?”

“Say what?”



Could you have same-sex marriages between
corporeal humans and corporation humans?
Boy, am I confused. - C.W.

“Inquiring minds want to know,” he said. “That’s what my ‘pards’ kept saying when they asked me these questions. What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure, why don’t we see what my wife is fixing us for supper, Buckaroo?” I said, regarding his cowboy hat.

This only had the effect of setting him off again.

“Someone wanted to know if gay corporations can get married in our state,” he said, staring out into space and assuming the most forlorn expression I have seen on him since Big Bang’s Penny announced her engagement. “You can’t imagine the hell I have been through.”

 

“Come on,” I said. “Maybe we’ll go shopping later. You’ve been wanting to look for a new computer. Buying stuff always cheers you up.”

“Say,” he said, suddenly brightening. “Do you reckon a rich corporation couple could adopt me?”

Be sure to click some ads. I nearly have enough for that new computer. - C.W.
Oh, and check out www.wattensawpress.com

191.Investments

Friends and Followers:

Big Dope is working on his “taxes” and is not in a talkative mood, so I take this time to file a report to the Falloonian Elders on a related topic, investments. I will prepare it in your language, (in which I have attained a high degree of a quality or state of having great facility). I welcome your help.

INVESTMENTS: THE EARTHING APPROACH TO FINANCIAL HEALTH

Unlike our planet, Earthlings developed no mandated provision for planetary-wide care of the elderly or unblessed. Each sub-unit of government seems free to devise its own system of care, or neglect thereof.

Some ignore it completely.

Some do provide care, but this is rare.

Some delegate the responsibility to an unseen spirit.

Some allow the issue to be settled by physical violence.

In my region, individuals receive a basic government allowance during what they laughingly refer to as “their golden years.” It is based on the amount of salary they received during their productive period. Thus, the child of a wealthy person who receives a high level of education and training will receive a larger allotment than someone who toiled at the lower end of the salary spectrum.

This is all quite complicated. Please don’t ask me to explain.

Some individuals receive an allotment from the employer for whom they worked. This

concept, however, is being phased out and is no longer considered valid. It was an approach supported by something they called “the labor movement” which is also being phased out.

Americans, you have noticed, delight in the process of phasing out programs that have proven effective.

This all leads to the concept of investing. Those in my region must make up the difference in what their social allotment pays and what they figure they will need in those “golden years.” They do this in several ways.

Some continue to work.

Some receive what they call “gap financing” from their children.

Some rely on what they call their “investments.” These may appear in the form of units of ownership in corporations, called stocks, or equities. This approach contains a high level of both risk and return. Some rely on a concept called “interest” that involves receiving a fee for loaning funds to a corporation or unit of government. This method is safe but is also being phased out.

Retirement in my region
can be quite pleasant,
if one is wealthy. - C.W.

For most, their investment consists entirely of the value of the container wherein they dwell. I know this seems odd, but it is true.

In order to inject further realism into this report, I was able to obtain a statement from my Earth Host about his personal approach to investing. He was not maintaining a paradigm of cooperation at the time, but my pleading produced this rather terse statement.

“During the Bush Recession, We began shifting our investments into equities. In the prosperous years of President Clinton, one could do well with safe, fixed-income securities. No more. We live simply, raise our own food, make most of our furniture, and enjoy a double-digit annual return on our investment portfolios. The reason? Corporations are making a killing, what with their government subsidies, stagnant wages, tax-free offshore accounts, and a media frenzy espousing a “conspicuous consumption,” credit-based mentality. So, we will get cozier, the wealthy will get rich, the rich will get richer, and the one percent will get to be the .01 percent. We’ll try to help some at the bottom and not worry about those in between who—because they only worry about guns, gays, and women—vote for those who will destroy their future. Some say, “It will all crash when the bricks start to fly.” That’s true, but we’ll be in Costa Rica by then, or beyond caring at any rate.”

I will make an attempt to translate this in an expanded report.

Chawawa++.0936
Earth Name: C.W.

Capitalism

Dear Friends and Followers:

Big Dope made me sit through a political speech recently in which a candidate hinted that, if elected, he would work to eliminate any regulation of the environment. Today I ran across this photo of the public drinking water in Charleston, West Virginia—a result of what you call “unfettered capitalism,” in which those of the libertarian faith so strongly believe.

 

I was confused.

So, I sought out the advice of some of your great thinkers (and some not so great, perhaps). Anyway, a sampling:

“I certainly have some very strong libertarian leanings, yes.” – Clarence Thomas

“If men were angels, no government would be necessary.” – James Madison

“To waste, to destroy our natural resources, to skin and exhaust the land instead of using it so as to increase its usefulness, will result in undermining in the days of our children the very prosperity which we ought by right to hand down to them amplified and developed.” ―Theodore Roosevelt

"… if the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would have only four years of life left. No more bees, no more pollination, no more plants, no more animals, no more man." – Albert Einstein

“Capitalism actually encourages morality because capitalism can't function well if people can't trust each other and people aren't honest, if a deal isn't a deal.” - Rick Santorum

“This American system of ours, call it Americanism, call it capitalism, call it what you will, gives each and every one of us a great opportunity if we only seize it with both hands and make the most of it.” – Al Capone

I am more confused than ever. Can someone help?

Your friend,

C.W.

Don't forget to check out Big Dope's book, The Charmed Time.

122. War

Hello my fellow Earthlings. I say that in anticipation of achieving my citizenship soon. It seems that most obstacles to my becoming a productive American have been eliminated. In fact, Big Dope is so ecstatic that I allowed him to sleep in this morning so that I might visit with you directly.

 

First, I would like to say that much of what Big Dope prints about me is slanted toward the entertainment value. I am not, I repeat not, in trouble with the Falloonian Elders. They didn’t approve of my latest fiancé, it is true, and my prank involving the painting of vaginas on certain political signs seemed odd to them. Of course I couldn’t have guessed that a grown man running for a serious national office would actually repeat the “information” I sent him concerning a rape victim’s ability to prevent pregnancy. Geez.

Well, there was that dancing horse video. But all in all they are pleased with my progress.

Which brings me to today’s project. Since all dedicated citizens should do something for their country, I ask your help in forming and supporting my latest effort, a grass-roots effort to be known as Citizens Resisting Asinine Policies, or CRAP. It primary focus is to reinstate the military draft in America. Its final aim is to stop war.

That’s right, I said use the military draft to stop war. Now you may immediately be asking yourself, why associate war with CRAP? Well the two concepts are connected like Lucky and Lefty the conjoined twins. Can you imagine our country invading another sovereign nation when facing a strong CRAP? Can you imagine the generals having to wade through CRAP? Can you imagine congress voting to sustain a bloated military while admitting that “First we must cut through the CRAP?”

No, a strong CRAP is just what this country needs.

Here’s how it would work. The concept of an all-volunteer army would be abandoned. All males, upon reaching the age of 18 would be immediately drafted into military service. No exemptions. No deferrals. We wouldn’t even need a draft board since service would be mandatory for all American males.
 

Please help me restore honor to our
country with a good CRAP.
- The Alien C.W.

Now, why subject only males to CRAP?

The mothers of America, that’s why. They would recognize the advantages of a CRAP when they saw it. And they seem to care more about their sons than they do their daughters. Don’t ask me why.

So, CRAP, in order to be effective, must fall upon our national decision makers. My research indicates that, since World War Two, your country has pretty much relied upon military action to promote its intentions with regards to other sovereign nations. What CRAP ... wait, what I mean to say is, what CRAP would do is undermine this policy approach by disarming the American Military-Industrial Complex, the monster that your former President Dwight Eisenhower warned you about. He was a man who truly saw a CRAP on the horizon.

So, you might say, “What could possibly defeat the intent of the Military-Industrial Complex? Nothing has so far.”

A good CRAP, I say to you. CRAP in the form of the mothers of America, the only known force that could bring about peace in our time.

- Your friend, C.W.

90. Testing

Last evening was a busy one. C.W. recovered from his somber mood of last week but was again agitated by national news. It started with a knock on the door shortly after sunset.

I opened to a snappily dressed man in a silk suit and club tie. Impeccably finished, he looked like an ad for Vogue. The smell of money filled the room as he indicated a sense of urgency. As I seldom wonder about visitors anymore, I ushered him in.

He didn’t bother to shake hands. He simply turned once he entered the room and said, “I’m Rex Tillerson, CEO of Exxon/Mobil and I have a problem.”

I waited.

Seeing no response, he continued. “There is a growing cancer in our country.”

I cocked my head expectantly.

“There is a movement among certain states to require drug testing as a requirement for receiving welfare payments.”

I nodded.

“Can’t you see?”

“See what?”

“How this would affect me.”

“Surely you are not on welfare,” I said.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “Do you have any idea how much we receive in tax subsidies?”

“A lot?”

“You couldn’t begin to imagine.”

”And?”

“If they drug test the corporation, we might lose that assistance,” he swallowed hard. “If our profits drop below 40 billion a year, I’m toast.”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I said.

“Oh?”

“As I understand it, tax breaks, although a direct giveaway from the government to corporations, are not considered welfare.”

“Really?”

“Your corporation is not a single woman with a dependant child, is it?”

“Hardly.”

“Then you are fine.”

“Oh man, he said, “That is such a relief,” he started to leave but then turned. “Could I use your telephone?”

“C.W.,” I said. “What’s up?”

He avoided eye contact. “Nothing. Can I use the phone?”

I gave in. “Use the one in the bedroom. But tell me what’s going on.”

”Nothing,” he said, heading for the bedroom. Then, as he closed the door, “I just need to call the Koch boys. They’ll be so relieved.”

Immediately there was another knock on the door. I groaned and opened it. Another nattily dressed man faced me.

“I need help,” he said. “Got your name from Big Dope dot com.”

“Let me guess. A corporation?”

“Dave Lesar,” he said. “CEO of Halliburton. We’ve been enjoying cost overruns on our federal contracts for years.”

I comforted him and ushered him in out, only to hear another knock. This time it was a young man dressed in starched and pressed work khakis and a stockman’s hat.

“I’m Johnny Benson,” he announced. “I just took over Benson Farms and I’m worried about our farm subsidies.”

This time it took longer as he was neither well educated, nor very bright. Finally, I was able to relax and work on my daily quota of Proust.

The CEOs provided me with this
archetypal image of a welfare queen.
Not to be confused with an
honest corporation (inset) - C.W.

Then I heard the knocking again. Disgusted, I hurried to the door and opened it only to be dazzled by a bright and overpowering smile attached to a huge mop of hair. This time the smell of money mingled with a hint of sulphur.

“Hello,” it said. “I’m Joel Olsteen.”

69. Corporations

It was the grossest thing you can imagine. I was enjoying perhaps the last warm day of the year sitting on a park bench admiring my city’s skyline. I was, mind you, not bothering a soul. Actually, I had dozed when I awoke to a horrible, screeching, teeth-setting-on-edge sound.

Who should appear but an exceedingly overweight man waddling along the sidewalk playing an accordion? May I add that he was playing it rather badly? I believe he was attempting the old protestant hymn “When We All Get to Heaven.”

I averted my eyes but he sank beside me and nearly pushed me off the bench. He smelled terrible. His arm pounded me as he continued to play. I rose and started to walk away.

“Hey Big Dope, where you goin”? he said.

“As far from you as I can get,” I said. “What kind of person are you trying to be?” I hadn’t seen C.W. since before Thanksgiving and had, of course, been expecting the worst.

“I’m a corporation person,” he said.

“A what?”

“A corporation. Can’t you tell?”

“A corporation?”

He began to play the accordion again. Needless to say, people were beginning to stare.

“You are going to get arrested,” I said.

“How can you arrest me? I’m not physical.” He lit off on what sounded vaguely like “Lady of Spain.”

I groaned.

“Why do you think you are a corporation? And besides, you stink.”

“Naturally I’m a little fulsome. Can’t you see how well I eat?” He hit a sour note and held in it an ear-shattering vibrato.

“You are destroying the peace of the park for everyone else,” I said.

“Their comfort isn’t my problem,” he shouted over the “music.” “My job is to produce and feed my dependents. Gorging isn’t always pretty.”

I stared.

“Listen,” he said. What emerged next might have sounded to a person with a good imagination as “Beer Barrel Polka.”

I cringed.

“What do you think?” he said.

“I think someone is going to knock your block off if you don’t quit.”

“Can’t touch me,” he said. “I’m not really here. I’m a corporation. I only exist in contemplation of the law.”

“Then why are you in such an annoying configuration?”

“Corporations are people,” he said. “Don’t you know that?”

I sighed.

“At least that’s what your species’ supreme agency for hearing legal appeals says.”

“Our Supreme Court said it but that may not make it so in all cases,” I said. “Just look at you.”

Don't worry. Be happy.Corporations
will take good care of you. - C.W.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t be such a ninny.” With this, he made some unrecognizable sound on the instrument. “I call this ‘A Light From On High.’”

I flinched.

“I wrote it for the justices that made me a person. I like to think of them as my fathers.”

“Your what?”

“Yep. I transmitted their dossiers to Falloonia today as part of my ‘Great Legal Minds’ series.”

I gasped.

“You want to get something to eat?” he said.