Teachings

Friends and followers: Big Dope is out walking but it was too cold for me, so I have been pondering the religious practices of your species, particularly those who profess to follow the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.

There seems to be a growing paranoia and general dissatisfaction among some of you and this intrigues me. Some of it seems to reside in the fact that your current President is a person of color. This puzzles me as the source of your religion was also a person of color.

I think it might have something to do with too much time on your hands.

So.

I have pondered the teachings of your Christ and I offer the following. Study these—his words—contemplate them, digest them and determine how to form your life around them and this will occupy you for the rest of your mortal life. Perhaps it will also make you happier with things. Here they are:

 Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they will be filled.

The Falloonian Elders have selected this
passages as one of the best signs for the
future of your species but we rarely see
it mentioned in your rituals. - C.W.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the sons of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.

 

Just an idea.

- The Alien C.W.

History

Oh no. One of my worst fears realized. It was too late to back out of the room for C.W. had already spotted me.

“Come in, old Sport.” He looked up from his pile of papers and motioned me forward. “I have a couple of questions for you.”

Few of his favorite shapes are as obnoxious as one he seems to treasure above all. Yes, I am referring to Paulie Penchant, the political pundit.

He indicated that I should take a seat. He said, “I want to ask you a few questions about this fellow Mandela that just died.”

“The former President of South Africa and Nobel Prize recipient?”

“The terrorist.”

I was aghast. “What do you mean ‘the terrorist?’”

“Your country’s words, not mine.”

“C.W.,” I said. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He was wearing a pair of those half-glasses one uses for reading and he looked at me over the top rim. “Come on, old Sport. Surely you know.”

“Know what?”

“That the man was a commie.”

That rendered me speechless.

He continued. “Don’t take my word for it. Your government had the man on a terrorist watch list until 2008.” He waved a newspaper clipping at me. “You almost wouldn’t let him in your country.”

“But,” I said. “Look at the outpouring of grief.” I struggled for the words. “Look at the tributes.”

“Look at the facts,” he said. He handed me a copy of a magazine piece that chronicled then President Ronald Reagan’s veto of a sanctions bill designed to end apartheid in South Africa and free Nelson Mandela from a prison sentence he endured for 27 years.

“He didn’t like communists.” I said. “President Reagan didn’t.”

“And?”

“The African National Congress—Mr. Mandela’s group—harbored some communists.”

“There you go,” he said. “Makes him a commie in my book. So why all the tears?”

“Congress overrode the veto,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “They were always screwing around with the man when he tried to stop the commies.”

“Oh please.” I said. “Can’t you let it rest?”

He ignored me. “Look at what congress forced him to do in Nicaragua.”

“Forced him?”

“He had to sell weapons to Iran to get money for the brave Contras who were fighting the commies in South America.”

“And killing nuns,” I said. “Also selling cocaine.”

“No problem if they were stopping the commies.”

I groaned. “Back to Nelson Mandela,” I said. “We, I mean we as country, got over it.”

“Got over what?”

“The commie thing.”

“So you say,” he said, fumbling with his papers. “Look at what former Vice-President Dick Cheney had to say about Mandela.”



This is what President Obama and Michelle had to say
when they visited Nelson Mandela's former prison cell.
Seems like a nice sentiment - C.W.

On behalf of our family we’re deeply humbled to stand
where men of such courage faced down injustice and
refused to yield.  The world is grateful for the heroes
 of Robben Island,  who remind us that no shackles or cells
 can match the strength of the human spirit.

 Barack Obama and Michelle Obama

“May we please not?”

“Aren’t you a good American?”

“I try to be but it gets harder when we start quoting Dick Cheney.”

“He was your country’s vice-president, for goodness sake, a heartbeat away from the Oval Office.”

“Please don’t try to frighten me. Besides, he is no Nelson Mandela,” I said.

“Maybe not, but look at what this other ‘truth-warrior,’ this uh …” he dug into his papers again, found one and continued, “this Rick Santorum. Look at what he said.”

It was 17 degrees outside, with a howling wind and sleet, but I decided that I preferred it at that moment and grabbed my jacket.

“Hey,” I heard him say as the first blast of cold air hit me. “Don’t you want to read what Sarah Palin thought about it?”

Buses

Hey folks. This is the Alien C.W. with his “Observation of the Week” while Big Dope is in the shower thawing out.

It is a cold damp day here, with a winter storm approaching. Big Dope decided he had to go walking as he must face the Commandant of Weight Control at the veteran’s hospital soon. And … he decided that it would be a more pleasant outing if I accompanied him.

 Or, as he put it, “Get your three asses out of bed. We’re going walking.”

I protested until he threatened to delete my collection of Kaley Cuoco photos from his computer. What could I do?

It was threatening rain, so we decided to stay close to the man/alien cave. Rain doesn’t bother me, but he assures me that, as a member of your species, he would melt if exposed. We decided to circle the park across the street, it being a mile in perimeter and we could count our laps.

I assumed a shape similar to his and we started out. The sun wasn’t up, and we walked along the park with our hoodies drawn, unarmed and innocent, enjoying happy thoughts—a perfect urban tableau.

Or, as the men and women on Fox News would say, “Hunting Season.”

As we reached an unlighted area, a figure suddenly emerged and said, “Good morning” in a loud voice. It scared the Gutotamibodequeece++ out of me. (Editor’s note: You don’t want to know).

Actually, it was just a lady from the apartments across the street. We see her quite often. She was waiting to catch the bus to go to work, probably for some rich family in the western edge of our city.

Anyway, we talked about fact that it would probably take her an hour, with transfers and all, to arrive at her destination. If she makes any purchases along the way, she will pay a new sales tax on the goods. The money will go to our state’s Highway Construction Department and it will use the money to build new freeways from our city to cities that would not allow “her kind” to live in them, except perhaps as a voucher that can be exchanged for goods or services. (Editor’s note: He means “token.” His translator is out of synch again).

Big Dope got quiet at this point. I think this sort of thing bothers him more than it does some of your species. We walked in silence for an entire lap.

Finally, as we headed north around the eastern edge of the park, the first preliminary blast of cold wind hit us and took our breath away. Well, his breath, I have a different sort of respiratory system.

I guess if these folks would just buy themselves
cars, it would be easier to get around. - C.W.

To get our mind off the cold, I began to express my confusion at your species’ insistence on utilizing the most inefficient methods of transportation in the galaxy. I further expressed my opinion that the poor might become more productive if they had better methods of getting to work. Big Dope turned and explained it this way.

“Shut the hell up and keep walking.”

So I did. We turned west along the north edge of the park, the part that borders a major street. Just as we did, a van stopped alongside us and a pleasant looking woman asked if she could give me a pamphlet. I said yes and she did.

As she drove away, I glanced at the title.

“God controls the world,” it said.

Thought of the day.

Friends and Fans: Your Humble Alien's Thought of the Day:

While a little confused by the affection for organized religion manifested by your species, I do

If he keeps this talk up, I predict he is going to start
annoying some of the folks on political right. - C.W.

maintain a warm spot in my heart (actually I have two but that’s no matter) for your so-called "mainstream churches" that minister directly to the needs of their immediate communities, respect the complete equality of sexes, and offer a quiet refuge in which to contemplate grace and goodness. (And I am very fond of grace and goodness, having two hearts and all). So, while I can’t weigh in on all the teachings of the Christian Mother Church, I am intrigued by this new Pope who, in addition to looking a lot like Gomer Pyle, seems to be embracing the words of the historical Jesus, as I have studied them during my time among you. As he preaches compassion for the poor and needy, I can just imagine those like Joyce Meyers, Kenneth Copeland, and Benny Hinn wringing their hands until their Rolexes fly across the room. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritūs Sancti, etc. etc. - C.W.

179. Presidents

“Looks like some folks are pissed off at the President.”

With these words, C.W. plopped himself onto the couch and began eating an apple. He tilted his Stetson hat to the back of his head and crossed one leg over the other. His boots were of dark leather and as polished as his oversized belt buckle.

I said, “What the hell are you supposed to be, a cowboy?”

He smiled and chewed his apple. “Just a citizen of the world, Pilgrim.”

“Oh please,” I said.

“I been studyin’,” he said. “Studyin’ about the presidency.”

“I fear for us all,” I said. “Are you the second coming of George W. Bush?”

“Who was he?” He laughed, then added. “Just kidding.”

“So what have you learned? I’m terribly interested.”

“Sarcasm won’t get you nowhere,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said. “Go on.”

“Well,” he said. “Seems a large group of folks gets really irritated with the president of these here United Sates from time to time.” He pronounced it “yooo-nited.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Like when that feller Lincoln freed those who were the legal property of another and forced to obey them.”

“Lincoln didn’t free the wives,” I said, unable to resist screwing around with him. "You need to adjust your Galactic Universal Translator.”

“I trust my GUT,” he said.

“You Texans seem to have a problem with that.”

He ignored me. “Anyway, it was the coloreds that he freed.”

“We don’t call folks that anymore.”

“And it really pissed some people off.”

“It did indeed.” I decided to let him continue.

“Then there was the furor that the second Roosevelt caused when he enacted them programs to help the poor and elderly, you know, some of the least of those among you.”

“Continue.”

“Oh,” he said, “and look what happened when Harry Truman integrated the armed services.”

“Not pretty.”

“Nope. Seems like his policy of ‘if he fights alongside you he can sleep alongside you’ didn’t set too well with some.”

“You do have a point.”

“And lord,” he said. “I don’t have to tell you what happened when Eisenhower and Kennedy took on the educational system in our southern provinces.”

“Uh. No.”

“They’s folks still pissed about that and you see what it has caused: the motion of an object emitting all spectra of light it receives in or through a medium, especially through the earth's atmosphere or through space.”

“White flight,” I said.

“Ain’t that what I just said?”

Never misunderestimate the fact that, where
politics are concerned, a good smile and a
good hat get a person a lot further than doing
good deeds. Hell, a person won't need no
 "nucular option" then. Heh. Heh. - C.W.

“Please continue.” He was beginning to make a point.

“The passage of the civil rights acts of the 1960s by our native son—who by the way we don’t claim no more—Lyndon Baines Johnson cost his party the south. Maybe forever.”

“But look at the good the laws did.”

“My point,’ he said. “It seems to me that if a president wants to get his ass in a crack, the fastest way to do that is to try to help folks. Look at this current occupant.”

What could I say? “So your advice?”

He thought. “I reckon it’s this. If you want to be beloved by some people, cut out all that ‘do-gooder crap.’ Do no good. That’ll get an airport named after you faster than anything.”

“But what about the people who need help?”

“There you go again,” he said.