169. Comments

C.W. is worrying me to death with questions. Actually, I’m already worried to death about my country and he is increasing the burden. At least I can say he has chosen a serious shape in which to torment me. He calls himself Vic the Veteran, and appeared in full uniform.

“Tell me,” he said when he first appeared and interfered with my solitude. “How does your species go about elected its leaders?”

“You know perfectly well,” I said. “We’ve been through this before.”

He thought for a moment, a practice that is quite unusual for him.

“No,” he said. “I mean where do the candidates come from?”

“From the people,” I said. “From where do you think they come?”

“Judging from the actions of some,” he said. “from the darkest corner of what your religious folk call Hell.”

“I’m sure they would disagree with you,” I said. “They are quite certain that they are doing the Lord’s work.”

“By starving the poor and neglecting the sick and wounded?”

“They think that makes them stronger.”

“Themselves or the poor and sick among us?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“There you go again,” he said. “Now tell me, is there a Perwhoppacruci Office in your government?”

“A what?”

“An office that punishes those who say things which indicate being slow of mind.”

“You mean those who say stupid things?”

“As I just said.”

“No. Do they punish Falloonians who say stupid things?”

“Yes. They must clean the Clistacitrd stalls on during their time off from studies and mind expansion.”

“That’s bad?”

“You don’t even want to know.”

“Oh,” I said.

“So back to this habit of saying that which is ridiculous,” he said. “It permits one of our military officers to say ‘The only way to save that village was to destroy’ and not be chastised for it?”

“We don’t chastise ourselves for saying dumb things.”

“Someone could get away with ‘One word sums up probably the responsibility of any vice president, and that one word is to be prepared.'''

“Yep.”

“As the rich get richer, money will trickle down to the poor?”

“Right.”

''Too many OB-GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all across this country.'' 

“Ditto.”

“We are going to have peace, even if we have to fight for it?”

“Quite so.”

''When the President does it, that means it's not illegal.''

“Oh yes.”

"Trees cause more pollution than automobiles do."

“We elected that one twice.”

“And,” he said. “he is the father of my personal favorite.”

“Which is?”

“Facts are stupid things.”

Why is it that the youngest among your
species is often the most prescient? - C.W. 

“Stop it,” I said. “You’re about to make me laugh and this is not a time for jollity.”
“Oh no?”

“No. A group of the worst of those among us are about to shut our government down and perhaps destroy our economy.”

“And you are not laughing?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s odd,” he said.

“What’s so odd about it?”

“Oh,” he said. “It’s just that your species has kept us Falloonians and the rest of the galaxy in stitches for years.”

168.Stamping

We were in the midst of one of our marathon question and answer sessions. They wear me out, but it’s what C.W. is here for so I can’t avoid them. When he appears as the Prudent Student, complete with thick-lensed eyeglass, a backpack and a shirt pocket full of pens of every color imaginable, I know I’m in for it.

We had already covered the subject of paying a football coach whose team loses games a salary in excess of $3million a year, why we place such emphasis on winning, and why we seem to be phasing science out of our high school curricula. He was getting exasperated and I was becoming despondent.

“Now,” he said as he selected a purple pen from his pocket and poised it over his notepad. “tell me about this new decision by members of your congress to quit funding the bringing down of one's foot heavily on food.”

“Say what?”

“Don’t you read your newspapers?”

“Not always. It scares me and I can’t sleep.”

“Hmmm,” he said and he made a note on the pad.

“A foot? On food?” I said.

“It’s all over the news. Your state’s four congressmen just voted to cut funding for it.”

“Do you mean ‘the stamping’ of food?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“You need to adjust your Galactic Universal Translator again," I said. "It is undependable.”

“I trust my GUT,” he said.

I rolled over laughing. He falls for it every time.

“What?” he said.

“I think you are talking about food stamps,” I said.

“Precisely,” he said. “Now why do your congressmen find them so repugnant?”

“I dunno,” I said. “Someone told them to, I suppose.”

“Aren’t they designed to help the poor and, how do you say it … the ‘least of those’ among you?”

“The congressmen?”

“No. Food stamps. Please be serious.” He was getting testy now so I focused on the question.”

“That is exactly what food stamps are designed to do. Help the poor.”

“So,” he said taking notes again. “if I am a mother of three children whose husband suddenly departs the scene by accident or choice, and I am, how do you say it … ‘without the basic necessities of life’ …”?

“Destitute.”

“Of course. So I am one for whom food stamps are intended.”

“One of the types, yes.”

“Or, say,” he said. “that I am a father who is stricken with a sudden illness and can no longer earn money to feed my family. I might rely on this expression of love and support from my fellow humans?”

“Something like that.”

“Perhaps I am the brother of a man who is killed along with his wife in a terrible accident and I take in his children and need help feeding them.”

“Society to the rescue,” I said.

“A damaged veteran of one of your many wars?”

“Ditto.”

“Children of your so-called Mississippi River delta who cannot escape their poverty?”

It seems to me that what your species needs
is a philosophy that teaches love for the poor. - C.W.

“Can we talk about something else?”

“One more question please.”

“What?”

“These congressmen of yours … they made this decision while well-fed and comfortable?”

“Quite so.”

Rarely does C.W. shift shapes in my presence, but this was one of those times. As I watched, he changed from a bright-eyed student into a tired old man. When the change was complete, he looked at me and I’ll swear that I saw a long line of tired and hungry people marching across his face.

“I have much to learn about your species,” he said. “I only hope my heart can stand it.”

O

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167. Explanations

“Look here Big Dope, you’ve got to help,” C.W. was saying. “I’ve got some explaining to do.” He reached and grabbed a strand of grass and began to chew on it. We were walking around our farm checking the fences and getting some exercise on the first nice day of early fall. He had assumed the form a hick farmer, complete with a depression-era straw hat and overalls.

I was hoping nobody was watching us. “What do you have to explain now?” I asked.

“A bunch of stuff,” he said, pointing the stalk of grass at me. “The Elder Council on Falloonia is considering recalling me.”

“Recalling you? What have you done?”

“It ain’t me,” he said. He reached down and pick up a dried segment of cow manure and held it up for inspection. He eyed it carefully and seemed about to take a bite of it.

“Put that down,” I said.

He sailed it across the pasture like a flying saucer. “It’s your species,” he said. “Your behavior has them stupefied as with alcoholic drink.”

“Befuddled?”

“That’s what I said. It confuses me when you repeat my words.”

I sighed. “So what have we done now?”

“Where do I start?” he said. He stripped a small branch from a gum tree and began to swish it through the air. “What about this tendency some of you have to vote for individuals to run the government who hate the government?”

“Not all of us do.”

“Enough to arouse galactic curiosity.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“There is this thing called ‘The Prosperity Gospel’ that has some elders scratching all three of their heads.”

“Three heads? You have three heads in your natural form?”

He stopped and turned. “Forget I said that. I was just speaking  in the nature of or involving a figure of speech, especially a metaphor.”

“You may have been speaking figuratively but you distinctly said that Falloonians have three heads.” I giggled.

“I’ll be in trouble if this gets out,” he said.

I couldn’t stop laughing. “What do you call yours? Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod?”

“This isn’t funny,” he said.

More laughter. “Moe, Larry, and Curly?”

“Stop it,” he said, swinging his gum tree branch at me.”

“I know,” I said. “The Fadduh, the Son, and the Gallactic Ghost.”  I was practically rolling. I stopped laughing when he spun around and stalked away. I ran after him. “I sorry,” I said. “Go ahead and tell me about your troubles with our religious doctrine.” He slowed down and let me join him.

There are three things about your species that worry me:
- Your inability to think in linear fashion,
-Your complete lack of logic in making decisions, and
- Your disregard for the rational method. - C.W/

“We wonder,” he said. “How your thoughts get around the inconsistencies of preaching wealth from the teachings of a prophet who despised riches.”

At this moment, the Dark One himself must have invaded me. “Which one wonders,” I said, “Huey, Dewey, or Louie?” I doubled over laughing.

This time he did stalk away. As he did, he yelled back at me. “Go ahead and laugh. Then you can explain why a man wearing a twenty-five thousand dollar watch preaches the gospel of a man who never even had a home to live in.”

“Wait, Athos,” I yelled after him. “Porthos and Aramis are coming.”

Some travels with the Alien are more fun than others.

166. Logic

I love it when C.W. does his Marie Magdalene "Marlene" Dietrich thing. (Yeah that was her real name). That is I love it except when he (she) tries to light up. That’s a no-no and we both know it.

Anyway, she comes in and takes an elegant position on the couch while I’m trying to pay some bills, so the distraction is welcome. She was attired in her famous pant-suit outfit and her dark eyes sparkled. I felt chills.

“I’m bushed,” she said.

“Oh? From what?”

“From tinkink,” C.W. has her precious accent down perfectly.

“Thinking what?”

“Vy your speeshies has such problems vis logic.” She reached for a cigarette but I waved it off. She made a pouting face. “Vee invented logic you know. Vee Germans. Your people.”

“I thought it was the Greeks.”

“Oh, zem,” she said. “That vas not logic. It vas simply complex tinkink.”

“Oh,” I said. “So what has you so tangled up in logic today?”

“Vell,” she said. “It concerns your concept of Zee Almighty.”

“The Almighty?”

“God, Jesus, vatever. I’m named after his girlfriend you know.”

I let that one pass. “So what has you concerned?”

“Haf you seen dis commercial, on your TV, about a lover-matching site on zee internet called ‘Christian Mingle?’”

“Once or twice. I don’t pay much attention since I made my match 41 years ago.”

“Vell,” she said. “You remember how it claims to allow you to ‘meet God’s match’ for you?”

“I seem to recall.”

“Do zey tink that Zee Almighty is zat hepless?”

“Helpless?”

“Yah. Hepless?”

“In vat, uh what way?” I said.

“Zat he, she, vichever you choose, couldn’t send zee proper match directly to a person?”

“I see,” I said. “Without the assistance of ‘pay to match’ company?”

“Yah. Egzacly.”

“Maybe The Almighty gets busy with some other things, like world hunger or our seemingly endless appetite for war.”

“And needs help makink sure vee marry zee right person?”

“I suppose.”

“But zee ad says that Zee Almighty sends zee person. Zat person must simply be routed through zee vebsite.”

“Well, it’s a cozy arrangement, I must say.”

“Does Zee Almighty get zee commission or zomezink?”

Now this would be a great visual
image of a superior being. - C.W.

I was growing weary. “Why don’t we leave the workings of The Almighty to The Almighty,” I said. “I have bills to pay.”

“One more zink,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. “What?”

“If Zee Almighty iz zo concerned about zame-zex attractions, vy not just make us all straight?” She leaned back and waited for my answer like a child waiting for her next birthday present.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I simply don’t know.”

With that, she stood, straightened her pants, shook her hair and wandered from the room singing “See what zee boys in zee backroom vill haf, and tell them I’m haffink zee same.”