They seem to do it the same way we do. The two of them prance and shy away, move willingly closer, further, much like the mating rituals of animals pretty much anywhere. Except they and we do it with dissemblance, flattery, persuasion, secrets, promises, half- and whole-truths, and queer but serious flirtation. And yet, again, I am drawn to reiterate the humans' relatively minute lifespan when paired against other galactic civilizations.
Since they have so little time they pursue this dance furtively, sometimes even hopelessly, keeping the institutions of marriage and engagement afloat with a flood of romance and passion that can not--I go so far as to say should not--sustain itself. Again and again I hear the expression "the passion is gone" as if this were some portent of extinction. But even I must give them credit on this point, their options are limited down here amongst the television and the smell.
By the humans' reckoning I was thirty-five before I felt existentially prepared to approach my female in courtship. And even that was reckless by our standards. I had not prepared myself for entering into union, to both sustain the bond and manage my own identity, to care for her well-being individual to the needs of the union. And I certainly failed to appreciate when the union itself was beyond salvaging. We do not look kindly upon mismanaged identity. Courtship is a mature operation, one which cannot be held hostage by a poor self-image or unrequited insecurity. Why, to enter into union without eliminating these faults would render one a very poor mate and a poorer example of health.
Humans do not have the luxury of time and so leap, as young as they feel the urge, into congress with their partner. Scarcely have they even physically matured before this union commences and thus a great deal of identity construction is given over to the party's opposite. This can work out well or horribly (the stories I have heard defy historical dictation) but the humans have yet to learn that in either case it is a very unjust exercise in morality. To give another one's formative years to mold is not a right another can possess. And yet humans are helpless here, as their biology necessitates a swift copulation to pass on what feeble knowledge they've gained to the next generations.
I must say they have done well enough, considering. Whilst I was in my maturing stages I often wondered what the standards were in place for, why I must wait to copulate or even form a union with my gender's opposite. In vain I waited and yet with fire kindled beneath me. Slowly, of course, realizing I had no choice I pushed my lust aside (several years this took) and diverted my attention to other spheres. By the time I came to the age of union I had built a firm foundation, lust but one of several ascending floors.
What pleasures awaited me on that oft-bypassed floor!
Yet it served as an extension of my own pleasure, and I was not so quick to mistake it for abiding care as these humans are so woefully prone to do. Their divorce statistics are atrocious and their ideas concerning who should be allowed to form unions with who is wholly humbug. If two beings wish to copulate then proceed. That the creatures here see fit to make it their business is utterly beyond primeval, especially considering what some of their more learned ancestors have written on the subject. But that's the thing with humans. The case is closed only to be reopened again.
It is the same way they treat their relationships. No door is ever shut, no hearts are ever locked. I would be apt to say it was emotional, somehow, in its way, or, though wrong-headed, passionate. But it is not. It is a tragic state of affairs that ends severally, never concludes. Coupling on Earth is not a union of two whole beings but a frightful brouhaha of two halves desperately trying to fit their square pegs in round holes. That the species has not managed to throttle itself to antiquity is impressive, I suppose.
It is also unlawful to marry animals here, can you believe it? Some of the most contented folks I ever met were married to voles.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Eighth Session: Ocean
The sphere is covered with saline water. A little over 70% of Sol-3's surface, in fact, is flooded with the stuff.
Water is fine. I like water.
I do not like water when it is so...festive.
The Earth's satellite, or Moon, brings tides to the sphere's waters. And they...move. Disconcertingly. It is almost like having to watch a small but extraordinary child pick the lock of its cage and proceed to drag a box of tools into an unmonitored corner. Turn your back and one of an almost endless series of accidents may befall you. I say this because arriving on a beach or lowland delta is a risky enterprise. The water...moves, almost as if it were alive. It gets closer, it fiddles with the shore a bit, and it returns into itself. Where the other end of it goes I'm sure I don't know but it is hard to properly illustrate the size of this ocean. One stands in the sand with the humans' automobiles floating through one's ear on one end and at the other is the hush and mush of the cyclopean sea.
It's quite pretty in a horrifying way. In fact, that's just the thing. It's sort of like an avalanche turned on its side. And from what I have reviewed in their histories that seems to be as apt a metaphor as any. Yet humans lie in wait for it, surf in it, float in it. Creatures of untold variation and menace abide down in those blue waters.
Yes, it is quite pretty in the way solar radiation is brilliant. And on a related note human females choose by their own free will to wear what is called a "thong". My reluctance to describe this ingenious article issues from my regrettable discovery that the males have chosen to wear them, too.
Water is fine. I like water.
I do not like water when it is so...festive.
The Earth's satellite, or Moon, brings tides to the sphere's waters. And they...move. Disconcertingly. It is almost like having to watch a small but extraordinary child pick the lock of its cage and proceed to drag a box of tools into an unmonitored corner. Turn your back and one of an almost endless series of accidents may befall you. I say this because arriving on a beach or lowland delta is a risky enterprise. The water...moves, almost as if it were alive. It gets closer, it fiddles with the shore a bit, and it returns into itself. Where the other end of it goes I'm sure I don't know but it is hard to properly illustrate the size of this ocean. One stands in the sand with the humans' automobiles floating through one's ear on one end and at the other is the hush and mush of the cyclopean sea.
It's quite pretty in a horrifying way. In fact, that's just the thing. It's sort of like an avalanche turned on its side. And from what I have reviewed in their histories that seems to be as apt a metaphor as any. Yet humans lie in wait for it, surf in it, float in it. Creatures of untold variation and menace abide down in those blue waters.
Yes, it is quite pretty in the way solar radiation is brilliant. And on a related note human females choose by their own free will to wear what is called a "thong". My reluctance to describe this ingenious article issues from my regrettable discovery that the males have chosen to wear them, too.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Seventh Session: Diversions
Humans surround themselves with diversions. Much like the scattered Blue Tribe that circled the great Indigo star Carl Knowlseby, the humans of this sphere--at least in their larger, industrialized states--embody an at times desperate addiction to stimulation.
There are places on this sphere where excess stimulation is considered bad for the health. In most cases these are monasteries or religious orders. On Sol-3 the prevailing opinion that moving about, driving along, accumulating wealth, spending that wealth, saving that wealth, watching events, watching sports, participating in sports, watching telecommunication, making telecommunication, talking, walking, jogging, barking, discussing, arguing, having intercourse, thinking about intercourse, using stimulants to simulate intercourse, snorting, smoking, injecting, chewing, eating carcinogenic narcotics, is more socially acceptable than the absence of these activities. But this seems to have backfired for some of the religious orders. The one that comes to mind is the rather rampant sexual corruption in what is here known as the Catholic Church, an organization notoriously discombobulating in its ecumenical composition.
For their benthic reasons the Catholic Church sees fit to sequester their employees from physical temptation by barring them from sexual congress with the opposite sex (forbidden sexual congress with the same sex is considered sine qua non for these chaps). In the last few decades there have been cases, not in the hundreds, but the thousands, of Catholic Priests participating in (and, at times, encouraging) sexual congress with adolescent and even pre-pubescent males. Why young males? I do not feel I have grasped the intricate manner of human hypocrisy well enough to hazard a guess. Suffice it to say that, as you would imagine, the Catholic Church has done very little to quell the rising discontent in its flock apart from watching in stolid confusion as their congregations break rank and flee to the other side, sometimes away from Christianity altogether. Why leave the church at all, however, if faith is what truly wraps these people together?
Because the church, the Catholic Church, is an institution which symbolizes very pronounced moral values. In fact, disregarding the past two-thousand years of corruption, war, murder, and bigotry, the Church has made its living exporting those values to its customers. When a resource is no longer available from its traditional market a consumer has to move on.
My point, if I can make one, is that even in institutions specifically intended to reduce stimulation humans are fallibly drawn to entertain themselves. And the consequences are much greater because the institutions are held sacrosanct (though by fewer and fewer numbers, if statistics mean anything).
Even in this transmission I have myself diverted. More should be said on this subject. For now my hypothesis centers on, again, the humans' abrupt life-span. Perhaps an evolutionary quirk to the humans' keen adaptive prerogative is the cause. Creatures with short life spans crave input. Is this to impress the opposite sex? Can be but not always. Is this to expand the boundaries of self? Can be but not always. Is this as good a way as any to pass the fleeting time? Can be. May be.
Is humanity merely itself a diversion to the Earth itself? Wouldn't that be grand? And yet it would be a devilish addiction the Earth has crafted, one inevitably it should be drawn to break or risk its own health (an already marred attribute) to the despair of extinction. But that is too morbid a thought to end this transmission.
Perhaps when Timothy Leary said, "Turn on, tune in, drop out" he could be expected to be speaking for more than the mind-altering chemical lysergic acid diethylamide. Perhaps there is something deeper in humans' search for deeper diversions (like the world web network).
Whatever it is it may explain why folks around here swiftly change the subject when I ask them to stop talking so much.
There are places on this sphere where excess stimulation is considered bad for the health. In most cases these are monasteries or religious orders. On Sol-3 the prevailing opinion that moving about, driving along, accumulating wealth, spending that wealth, saving that wealth, watching events, watching sports, participating in sports, watching telecommunication, making telecommunication, talking, walking, jogging, barking, discussing, arguing, having intercourse, thinking about intercourse, using stimulants to simulate intercourse, snorting, smoking, injecting, chewing, eating carcinogenic narcotics, is more socially acceptable than the absence of these activities. But this seems to have backfired for some of the religious orders. The one that comes to mind is the rather rampant sexual corruption in what is here known as the Catholic Church, an organization notoriously discombobulating in its ecumenical composition.
For their benthic reasons the Catholic Church sees fit to sequester their employees from physical temptation by barring them from sexual congress with the opposite sex (forbidden sexual congress with the same sex is considered sine qua non for these chaps). In the last few decades there have been cases, not in the hundreds, but the thousands, of Catholic Priests participating in (and, at times, encouraging) sexual congress with adolescent and even pre-pubescent males. Why young males? I do not feel I have grasped the intricate manner of human hypocrisy well enough to hazard a guess. Suffice it to say that, as you would imagine, the Catholic Church has done very little to quell the rising discontent in its flock apart from watching in stolid confusion as their congregations break rank and flee to the other side, sometimes away from Christianity altogether. Why leave the church at all, however, if faith is what truly wraps these people together?
Because the church, the Catholic Church, is an institution which symbolizes very pronounced moral values. In fact, disregarding the past two-thousand years of corruption, war, murder, and bigotry, the Church has made its living exporting those values to its customers. When a resource is no longer available from its traditional market a consumer has to move on.
My point, if I can make one, is that even in institutions specifically intended to reduce stimulation humans are fallibly drawn to entertain themselves. And the consequences are much greater because the institutions are held sacrosanct (though by fewer and fewer numbers, if statistics mean anything).
Even in this transmission I have myself diverted. More should be said on this subject. For now my hypothesis centers on, again, the humans' abrupt life-span. Perhaps an evolutionary quirk to the humans' keen adaptive prerogative is the cause. Creatures with short life spans crave input. Is this to impress the opposite sex? Can be but not always. Is this to expand the boundaries of self? Can be but not always. Is this as good a way as any to pass the fleeting time? Can be. May be.
Is humanity merely itself a diversion to the Earth itself? Wouldn't that be grand? And yet it would be a devilish addiction the Earth has crafted, one inevitably it should be drawn to break or risk its own health (an already marred attribute) to the despair of extinction. But that is too morbid a thought to end this transmission.
Perhaps when Timothy Leary said, "Turn on, tune in, drop out" he could be expected to be speaking for more than the mind-altering chemical lysergic acid diethylamide. Perhaps there is something deeper in humans' search for deeper diversions (like the world web network).
Whatever it is it may explain why folks around here swiftly change the subject when I ask them to stop talking so much.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Sixth Session: Books
Some several centuries ago a fellow named Gutenberg developed a printing press, a contraption of iron and movable type and ink derived from vegetable dyes that pounded the ink onto the type and typed exactly onto flattened sheets of processed wood fiber, called paper. Moving the type rearranged the letters and the new arrangements were pounded through the ink onto still more paper. Many hundreds and in some cases thousands of these pages were bound together and held between two thick leather covers. This was known as a book.
Variously the construction is different now but the spirit remains the same. The humans have finally begun to move away from the classic physical form and have begun storing this information electronically. Books can be downloaded from the very self-same internet you are uploading this signal from.
I do not deny that it is strange. Our literacy developed orally which meant whatever was important was remembered and whatever was drivel slipped away to the obscurity of the ages. Granted, we are rather long-lived and so it would take time before our schlock artists and their progeny went the way of all tripe. And it is not unreasonable to argue that, apart from the savage destruction of the trees, this insures that, so long as they are preserved, bad ideas linger long after their makers have been expunged. In fact there are even human examples from antiquity who professed that binding words into concrete form was a misguided endeavor. Socrates, I believe he was called.
We, who developed language, communication, engineering, and history entirely within ourselves--only constructing hieroglyphics when it became necessary to broach intergalactic commerce--would assuredly consider ourselves above the blatant stagnation of this "written word". Even now my inflection, my pauses, my empathy and my rhetoric, my search for the proper term, its ephemeral flavor, is lost when converted to defined boundaries of syntax and periods, commas, etc. And believe me, what constitutes a "book" down here, two covers filled with pages, is often more substantial than what it means to say.
But they remind me of my wife.
Books have a smell about them. New ones, to be sure, smell new, but older books, things left and leaned on, stained, had things grown inside them, deployed for purposes as strange as prayer or the generation of delight, offer voluminous aroma. And it is entirely different to read a page by oneself than it is to be told of that page. Both have their places, to be sure.
Yet one holds a book. I have read over 1,000 since my sentence began dating from centuries ago to what has just arrived in the market. Some are awful, trite collections of what these creatures consider homilies. Others are playful diversions. Still others, others transform a stillness in the air to a ready, flexing wing. And there is something beyond explanation in that which I do not have the courage to transmit.
I understand well the laws of our sphere and that my wife is no longer legally recognized as such. Be that as it may I do begin to understand the method to the madness that is this public transmission. Not having to request of you my wife's attention is a welcome remnant of dignity.
Variously the construction is different now but the spirit remains the same. The humans have finally begun to move away from the classic physical form and have begun storing this information electronically. Books can be downloaded from the very self-same internet you are uploading this signal from.
I do not deny that it is strange. Our literacy developed orally which meant whatever was important was remembered and whatever was drivel slipped away to the obscurity of the ages. Granted, we are rather long-lived and so it would take time before our schlock artists and their progeny went the way of all tripe. And it is not unreasonable to argue that, apart from the savage destruction of the trees, this insures that, so long as they are preserved, bad ideas linger long after their makers have been expunged. In fact there are even human examples from antiquity who professed that binding words into concrete form was a misguided endeavor. Socrates, I believe he was called.
We, who developed language, communication, engineering, and history entirely within ourselves--only constructing hieroglyphics when it became necessary to broach intergalactic commerce--would assuredly consider ourselves above the blatant stagnation of this "written word". Even now my inflection, my pauses, my empathy and my rhetoric, my search for the proper term, its ephemeral flavor, is lost when converted to defined boundaries of syntax and periods, commas, etc. And believe me, what constitutes a "book" down here, two covers filled with pages, is often more substantial than what it means to say.
But they remind me of my wife.
Books have a smell about them. New ones, to be sure, smell new, but older books, things left and leaned on, stained, had things grown inside them, deployed for purposes as strange as prayer or the generation of delight, offer voluminous aroma. And it is entirely different to read a page by oneself than it is to be told of that page. Both have their places, to be sure.
Yet one holds a book. I have read over 1,000 since my sentence began dating from centuries ago to what has just arrived in the market. Some are awful, trite collections of what these creatures consider homilies. Others are playful diversions. Still others, others transform a stillness in the air to a ready, flexing wing. And there is something beyond explanation in that which I do not have the courage to transmit.
I understand well the laws of our sphere and that my wife is no longer legally recognized as such. Be that as it may I do begin to understand the method to the madness that is this public transmission. Not having to request of you my wife's attention is a welcome remnant of dignity.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Fifth Session: Parking Lots
There are a preponderance of parking lots in this city. By "this city" I am referring to the one the Foundation saw fit to send me to, Los Angeles, which is a word in the Spanish language referring to massive, undimensional creatures with multiple wings, faces of lions, eagles, and wheels, and who execute the wrath of some ineffable fellow referred to by such a bevy of names on this sphere it would press the limits of the internet were I to attempt to catalog each syllabically-ominous one and whose powers are--but are not limited to--conjuring pillars of fire that stretch from the heavens to the sea, turning wood into serpents, blasting apart infidels, and sentencing the humans to everlasting bliss or infinite gnashing of teeth. Parking lots? Where do these people sleep at night?
These angels, as agents of this almighty, are no laughing matter. I see them littered across greeting cards and Renaissance frescoes as fat (shall I go so far as to utilize the epochal term "Rubinesque"?), fluffy infants with wings. What is this madness' cause? Have these humans not read their holy scriptures? These angels are horrifying, terrifying, awesome in the way I have yet to hear the word properly used--inspiring awe and shrill, mind-numbing fear. By the galaxy's asshole, what hath we wrought in leaving this bog of a sphere alone?
On a related note, parking lots. These Angelinos, as they call themselves (to my unlimited dread), have decided that rather than packing up their (many, many) possessions and heading for more variable, less-populated climes, that it is far better for them to ceaselessly expand the city until its borders form a vague, and perhaps form-less, border somewhere up, around, beyond its intersecting freeways. This city is massive and its components ungainly. Because their eclectic nature emphasizes an individualistic exploration public transportation is shot, blown apart by the millions of petroleum-burning personal carriages that litter their streets like so much gunk in a toejam. Hence their parking lots, most of which are not free. But, as I've found after only a few rotations here, here, nothing is free.
Now each day I must expend my waking sanity combatting the very real fear that I must feed the manic meters haphazardly functional upon their useless sidewalks and the less substantive but still ill-boding suspicion that these Judeo-Christian beasties are hovering in judgement above my immigrant head.
Regarding vegetables I have recently discovered the eggplant. It is the only humorous item I have found in the supermarket and it can be distilled into a superb Baba Ghanoush.
These angels, as agents of this almighty, are no laughing matter. I see them littered across greeting cards and Renaissance frescoes as fat (shall I go so far as to utilize the epochal term "Rubinesque"?), fluffy infants with wings. What is this madness' cause? Have these humans not read their holy scriptures? These angels are horrifying, terrifying, awesome in the way I have yet to hear the word properly used--inspiring awe and shrill, mind-numbing fear. By the galaxy's asshole, what hath we wrought in leaving this bog of a sphere alone?
On a related note, parking lots. These Angelinos, as they call themselves (to my unlimited dread), have decided that rather than packing up their (many, many) possessions and heading for more variable, less-populated climes, that it is far better for them to ceaselessly expand the city until its borders form a vague, and perhaps form-less, border somewhere up, around, beyond its intersecting freeways. This city is massive and its components ungainly. Because their eclectic nature emphasizes an individualistic exploration public transportation is shot, blown apart by the millions of petroleum-burning personal carriages that litter their streets like so much gunk in a toejam. Hence their parking lots, most of which are not free. But, as I've found after only a few rotations here, here, nothing is free.
Now each day I must expend my waking sanity combatting the very real fear that I must feed the manic meters haphazardly functional upon their useless sidewalks and the less substantive but still ill-boding suspicion that these Judeo-Christian beasties are hovering in judgement above my immigrant head.
Regarding vegetables I have recently discovered the eggplant. It is the only humorous item I have found in the supermarket and it can be distilled into a superb Baba Ghanoush.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Fourth Session: Cats
I am not fond of this animal.
Before the sphere had finished its diurnal rotation I was rudely awakened by what I thought was an incapacitated child mewling at my doorstep. A sort of "mu! mu! mu!" howl which sounded at once pitiful and awful. It was an unconscionably rude cacophony, so latent was the hour, that it set me to wakefulness. At once I thrust open my door, expectant of a discarded infant or some such creature but no! NO! No, what had come crawling, matted fur and bared whiskers and EYES THE COLOR OF HELL to my doorstep was a black tetrapod, a creature so garishly unwell that it had dropped its predacious meal at my feet and proceeded to hack up balls of its own hair. Aghast, I grunted at the miniature beast with a disgusted, hopeless command and it was off, prancing away as if it were invited to share my morning and had been most unsoundly dismissed.
Since this morning I have complained to my fellow residents but they are sympathetic to these "strays," "kitty-cats," as they blithely call them.
This animal is supernaturally ghoulish. Its eyes glisten at twilight, it seems to be everywhere, it makes no sound when it wishes and caterwauls when it pleases. This secretive dandy is trouble. It has claws!
I have been told that a television program in the last two decades featured an "alien life form" named Alf who enjoyed eating cats. In fact, he was so inclined to feast upon them that his adopted family had to keep him from gobbling up the neighborhood brood. HA HA! I write it as blithely as these people say "kitty cat". According to my almanac they were once worshiped by Egyptians as porters to the Underworld. What fiendish creatures...
However, there is an intriguingly edible plant called the vegetable which is grown all over the sphere in various forms. Carrots, especially, are quite spectacular.
Before the sphere had finished its diurnal rotation I was rudely awakened by what I thought was an incapacitated child mewling at my doorstep. A sort of "mu! mu! mu!" howl which sounded at once pitiful and awful. It was an unconscionably rude cacophony, so latent was the hour, that it set me to wakefulness. At once I thrust open my door, expectant of a discarded infant or some such creature but no! NO! No, what had come crawling, matted fur and bared whiskers and EYES THE COLOR OF HELL to my doorstep was a black tetrapod, a creature so garishly unwell that it had dropped its predacious meal at my feet and proceeded to hack up balls of its own hair. Aghast, I grunted at the miniature beast with a disgusted, hopeless command and it was off, prancing away as if it were invited to share my morning and had been most unsoundly dismissed.
Since this morning I have complained to my fellow residents but they are sympathetic to these "strays," "kitty-cats," as they blithely call them.
This animal is supernaturally ghoulish. Its eyes glisten at twilight, it seems to be everywhere, it makes no sound when it wishes and caterwauls when it pleases. This secretive dandy is trouble. It has claws!
I have been told that a television program in the last two decades featured an "alien life form" named Alf who enjoyed eating cats. In fact, he was so inclined to feast upon them that his adopted family had to keep him from gobbling up the neighborhood brood. HA HA! I write it as blithely as these people say "kitty cat". According to my almanac they were once worshiped by Egyptians as porters to the Underworld. What fiendish creatures...
However, there is an intriguingly edible plant called the vegetable which is grown all over the sphere in various forms. Carrots, especially, are quite spectacular.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Third Session: American Democracy
The North American Continent is host to several states, or countries, the largest of which is composed of several smaller states: the aptly-named The United States of America. The United States of America is a ratified union of 50 states and administers to 14 territories. You may wonder why these territories are not ratified into statehood and granted state status, bringing the total to 64. Those citizens of America I asked were equally unsure, 98% of whom did not understand what I was talking about. For a time I considered that the number 50 was considered sacred or holy by T.U.S.A. inhabitants. But I have since discarded this theory. In all seriousness it seems that the majority of Americans in my sample had no comprehension of these territories' existence, much less their political affiliation.
I took it upon myself to educate them that American Samoa, Guam, the Northern Mariana Islands, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, Bajo Nuevo Bank, Baker Island, Howland Island, Johnston Atoll, Jarvis Island, Kingman Reef, the Midway Islands, Navassa Island, and the Palmyra Atoll were all classified as T.U.S.A. territory. On several occasions I was told to "get lost"; I explained as best I could that I was indeed lost and trying to work my way back home by compiling a report on their ridiculous human customs--in two instances I was asked for my papers of identification. I handed the first a receipt for a "fast-food" hot dog. This did not go well. The second individual made a rude noise in his throat and muttered something about the "state of the country".
What is the state of the country? Unlike matter, which comes in five states: gas, liquid, solid, plasma, and Oregano Thompson; the "state of the country" is a colloquial phrase (spread across at least the 50 "accepted states") meant to indicate, by way of omission, that the sentence "state of the country" is followed by the predicate clause "is [negative]". With so many states and countries being bandied about--with very little in the way of universal terms--it is no wonder that this civilization has confused itself into thinking it is democratic.
I use the above discussion of territories to illustrate this point. Again and again on T.U.S.A. media programs mention is made of the "state of the democracy," the "democratic nation," or even (shades of old time imperialism) "making the world safe for democracy." In my short time on this planet I have come to believe that T.U.S.A. has no internal concept of "democracy" beyond its collective, superficial incantation. A democracy, as I understand its use in this state's own history books, is a system of government whereby rule is the domain of the masses, the population as a whole. T.U.S.A. operates under a representative democracy, a republic, in fact, with far less than the gross domestic population participating in the electoral process--and the territories excluded from the proceedings entirely.
Thus far I have seen what I can only describe as a weird dichotomy in human culture--so far as this continent's inhabitants are concerned: personal compassion on a scale heretofore unexamined in galactic observations, and widespread ignorance comparable to a working virtual reality. What is accepted as fact, general knowledge, "day-to-day life" is not, objectively, accurate. Instead the inhabitants of T.U.S.A. operate in personal spheres that, when called upon to participate in the grander civilization, resort to mass assumptions predicated on an outdated zeitgeist.
I will go no further except to say that currently T.U.S.A. is SOL-3's leading industrial and cultural organization, or super-power. But rather than a limited oligarchy of educated elites in charge of a plebian voting bloc it seems that the governmental figures are just as--if not more--misinformed as their districts. There is no sinister conspiracy of willful obfuscation here, just a random conglomeration of misfiring sprockets.
This is mind-boggling. It's just like home.
I took it upon myself to educate them that American Samoa, Guam, the Northern Mariana Islands, Puerto Rico, the Virgin Islands, Bajo Nuevo Bank, Baker Island, Howland Island, Johnston Atoll, Jarvis Island, Kingman Reef, the Midway Islands, Navassa Island, and the Palmyra Atoll were all classified as T.U.S.A. territory. On several occasions I was told to "get lost"; I explained as best I could that I was indeed lost and trying to work my way back home by compiling a report on their ridiculous human customs--in two instances I was asked for my papers of identification. I handed the first a receipt for a "fast-food" hot dog. This did not go well. The second individual made a rude noise in his throat and muttered something about the "state of the country".
What is the state of the country? Unlike matter, which comes in five states: gas, liquid, solid, plasma, and Oregano Thompson; the "state of the country" is a colloquial phrase (spread across at least the 50 "accepted states") meant to indicate, by way of omission, that the sentence "state of the country" is followed by the predicate clause "is [negative]". With so many states and countries being bandied about--with very little in the way of universal terms--it is no wonder that this civilization has confused itself into thinking it is democratic.
I use the above discussion of territories to illustrate this point. Again and again on T.U.S.A. media programs mention is made of the "state of the democracy," the "democratic nation," or even (shades of old time imperialism) "making the world safe for democracy." In my short time on this planet I have come to believe that T.U.S.A. has no internal concept of "democracy" beyond its collective, superficial incantation. A democracy, as I understand its use in this state's own history books, is a system of government whereby rule is the domain of the masses, the population as a whole. T.U.S.A. operates under a representative democracy, a republic, in fact, with far less than the gross domestic population participating in the electoral process--and the territories excluded from the proceedings entirely.
Thus far I have seen what I can only describe as a weird dichotomy in human culture--so far as this continent's inhabitants are concerned: personal compassion on a scale heretofore unexamined in galactic observations, and widespread ignorance comparable to a working virtual reality. What is accepted as fact, general knowledge, "day-to-day life" is not, objectively, accurate. Instead the inhabitants of T.U.S.A. operate in personal spheres that, when called upon to participate in the grander civilization, resort to mass assumptions predicated on an outdated zeitgeist.
I will go no further except to say that currently T.U.S.A. is SOL-3's leading industrial and cultural organization, or super-power. But rather than a limited oligarchy of educated elites in charge of a plebian voting bloc it seems that the governmental figures are just as--if not more--misinformed as their districts. There is no sinister conspiracy of willful obfuscation here, just a random conglomeration of misfiring sprockets.
This is mind-boggling. It's just like home.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Second Session: Petroleum Products
Recently in this planet's northern hemisphere, in what is known as the Gulf of Mexico, south of the North American continent, an oil refinery exploded and crashed into the sea. It was of a deep-water make and salvaging the broken pipes and stopping the gushing oil source took, according to my records, nearly 90 rotations.
Most humans viewed this as a disaster rather than a way of life. Petroleum depletion has advanced to just before the stage of petroleum cypher. How has this happened without their obtaining an alternative fuel source?
As I stated in my first session human beings are a lot like us, they prefer swift solutions to dilemmas. Their error, however, is in their intrinsic short-sightedness. The Central Intelligence Agency (which I can only assume is the receptacle of curious interventionists) has compiled a list of 224 countries and their mortality rates. It ranges from Monaco (at 89.78 revolutions) to Angola (38.48 revolutions). The North American continent's residents, the U.S.A.s, are 49 on the list, living an average 78.24 revolutions.
I think the board will agree that this information almost speaks for itself. Human beings are short-lived relative to the majority of the galaxy's inhabitants. I would be apt to claim this is a result of poor breeding habits or their relative savagery but in truth neither of these answers is sufficient. The terrestrials of Earth are not really that different from most of the outer rim's civilizations.
There is a steadily growing dependency on stimulation, however, that is not unlike some of the wilder remnants of the Blue Diaspora Tribe (more on that in later sessions).
For now I mean to point out that the humans are perfectly willing to let disasters such as the "British Petroleum" oil platform continue. As it degrades their ocean quality and ravages further an already quite-depleted marine population and drives up the price of petroleum across the sphere they simply wait for more of it, carefully packaged and prepared for them like so much gourmet comestibles. Unfortunately they, unlike us, are already on an unstoppable path to strange and bitter disappointment. Fortunately we were able to designate the when and how our petroleum would dry and were able to plan accordingly. The humans, however, short-lived as they are, cannot (and may, in fact, be technically incapable to) predict this folly.
I will illustrate my hypothesis. Below is a list of products the humans use in every rotation, many of which are essential for preservation of quality of life. All are based on petroleum products:
Gasoline
Toothpaste
Refrigerators
Artificial limbs
Anesthetics
Telephones
Heart Valves
Corrective Glasses
Surf Boards
Wheels
Pillows
Aspirin
Cameras
Enamel
Parachutes
Digital Versatile Discs
Umbrellas
Nylon
Yarn
Toilet Seats
Fertilizer
Paint
Oil Filters
Glycerin
Vitamin Capsules
Food Preservatives
Antiseptics
Ink
Asphalt
Paraffin Wax
Tar
This is a short list. And in saying so I would like to add that my needs are relatively few. I make my second request for immediate transfer to Venus.
Most humans viewed this as a disaster rather than a way of life. Petroleum depletion has advanced to just before the stage of petroleum cypher. How has this happened without their obtaining an alternative fuel source?
As I stated in my first session human beings are a lot like us, they prefer swift solutions to dilemmas. Their error, however, is in their intrinsic short-sightedness. The Central Intelligence Agency (which I can only assume is the receptacle of curious interventionists) has compiled a list of 224 countries and their mortality rates. It ranges from Monaco (at 89.78 revolutions) to Angola (38.48 revolutions). The North American continent's residents, the U.S.A.s, are 49 on the list, living an average 78.24 revolutions.
I think the board will agree that this information almost speaks for itself. Human beings are short-lived relative to the majority of the galaxy's inhabitants. I would be apt to claim this is a result of poor breeding habits or their relative savagery but in truth neither of these answers is sufficient. The terrestrials of Earth are not really that different from most of the outer rim's civilizations.
There is a steadily growing dependency on stimulation, however, that is not unlike some of the wilder remnants of the Blue Diaspora Tribe (more on that in later sessions).
For now I mean to point out that the humans are perfectly willing to let disasters such as the "British Petroleum" oil platform continue. As it degrades their ocean quality and ravages further an already quite-depleted marine population and drives up the price of petroleum across the sphere they simply wait for more of it, carefully packaged and prepared for them like so much gourmet comestibles. Unfortunately they, unlike us, are already on an unstoppable path to strange and bitter disappointment. Fortunately we were able to designate the when and how our petroleum would dry and were able to plan accordingly. The humans, however, short-lived as they are, cannot (and may, in fact, be technically incapable to) predict this folly.
I will illustrate my hypothesis. Below is a list of products the humans use in every rotation, many of which are essential for preservation of quality of life. All are based on petroleum products:
Gasoline
Toothpaste
Refrigerators
Artificial limbs
Anesthetics
Telephones
Heart Valves
Corrective Glasses
Surf Boards
Wheels
Pillows
Aspirin
Cameras
Enamel
Parachutes
Digital Versatile Discs
Umbrellas
Nylon
Yarn
Toilet Seats
Fertilizer
Paint
Oil Filters
Glycerin
Vitamin Capsules
Food Preservatives
Antiseptics
Ink
Asphalt
Paraffin Wax
Tar
This is a short list. And in saying so I would like to add that my needs are relatively few. I make my second request for immediate transfer to Venus.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
First Session: Statement of Intent
They speak here, and they have water.
In several key ways humans are like us: they are bipedal and carbon-based, exhibit sexual dimorphism (with exceptions), and possess a vestigial inclination to house domesticated assorted fauna. Let the record show that they have managed to colonize every major landmass in the millennia following the Massive Interstellar Flood (designated hereafter as MIF). Cheers all around.
As the first transmission of my sentence is apt to be looked upon more charitably I would like to address the members of the board in a more personal manner. You are swine.
Moving on, I state that I have every intention of finishing my sentence with good behavior. I appreciate the leniency of four light-years though I cannot overstress the anxiety I must daily face knowing that the inhabitants of this sphere are in the business of manufacturing rudimentary (but effective) nuclear weapons. The last offensive detonation of such a weapon occurred in less than a century in this solar calendar. I make my first appeal to be transferred to Venus here.
Anyway, every intention of completing, etc., without willful endangerment of state security, etc., to, by any means, transmit relevant information in a public and courteous fashion. Sessions will be made using the digital network known as the world web or internet. System seems to be composed of satellite and cable feeds but have heard it described as a "series of tubes". Will report on findings.
Thanks, fellas.
In several key ways humans are like us: they are bipedal and carbon-based, exhibit sexual dimorphism (with exceptions), and possess a vestigial inclination to house domesticated assorted fauna. Let the record show that they have managed to colonize every major landmass in the millennia following the Massive Interstellar Flood (designated hereafter as MIF). Cheers all around.
As the first transmission of my sentence is apt to be looked upon more charitably I would like to address the members of the board in a more personal manner. You are swine.
Moving on, I state that I have every intention of finishing my sentence with good behavior. I appreciate the leniency of four light-years though I cannot overstress the anxiety I must daily face knowing that the inhabitants of this sphere are in the business of manufacturing rudimentary (but effective) nuclear weapons. The last offensive detonation of such a weapon occurred in less than a century in this solar calendar. I make my first appeal to be transferred to Venus here.
Anyway, every intention of completing, etc., without willful endangerment of state security, etc., to, by any means, transmit relevant information in a public and courteous fashion. Sessions will be made using the digital network known as the world web or internet. System seems to be composed of satellite and cable feeds but have heard it described as a "series of tubes". Will report on findings.
Thanks, fellas.
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