All posts by Joseph

Off again.

Okay, so this is how the countdown went: Ten… nine… eight… seven…  Shall I go on? Are you in suspense yet? Well, okay, ’cause we’re already down to three… two…

Hold it right there. Neptune can wait. I’ve got some mail to answer. Here’s the first item:

Dear Big Green,

Couldn’t help but notice that your diet appears to have been restricted to cheese-based cracker snacks. Why is that? Are you under advisement from your physician?

Best,

Jaycorn McHammerstein.

Thanks for writing, Jaycorn. Yes, I can see where you might have gotten that misimpression about our foodstuffs. Same place other people acquire misimpressions about us – from this blog. The simple fact is, none of the snack foods I mentioned as being part of Big Green’s regular menu contain a significant amount of cheese. And doctors? We don’t need no stinking doctors! Unless they are doctors of mad science.

Here’s another one. The envelope seems a bit distressed, frankly.

Hey Big Green…

I fell down the back steps of the Cheney Hammer Mill and have been stuck in your basement for about a week and a half, living on coal dust and weeds ripped from between the security bars of the basement windows. Call the police! GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

Sincerely,

Mayor Clem Johnson

One more – this one appears to be from slightly farther away.

Snert….

Kalwoiuu lkjlk ffjrjt oo  issi  kak he ka wppio ldk na

eiur youa wwkke !!!!

jeooiau,

Snert.

Thanks for writing, Snert. I respect the fact that you’ve gone to the great expense of sending this letter from the Small Magellanic Cloud. Sadly, we have no reliable translator on staff, though Marvin (my personal robot assistant) does dabble a bit. Still, once we get underway with our interstellar tour, we will hand this off to one of our fans and find out just what the hell you’re talking about.

That does it. Okay, where were we? Ah yes…. Three… two… one…

Contact with America.

First item: the Democrats are among the most exasperating political parties on Earth. They seem to have an innate sense of how to alienate their core voters, casting over the side any item of legislative action – the public option, Medicare expansion, don’t ask don’t tell, the fight over middle class vs. top 3% marginal tax rate reductions, etc. – that is remotely popular.

That said, let’s look at their opponents. Probably a good idea, since there’s an election coming up. And these folks look pretty grisly. Oddly, they picked what looked like a Home Depot lumber department to announce their “Pledge To America”, a lobbyist-written document full of stuff that would make, well, lobbyists very happy. (Perhaps the choice of venue is their way of telegraphing the kinds of jobs they plan to create. How do you look in an orange vest?) Rather than talking about what’s in the document, let’s look at what they didn’t put in there… but which they advocate none the less:

Privatization of Social Security. It’s no secret that most if not all G.O.P. legislators are in favor of converting Social Security into a glorified 401(k) plan with private accounts. This has long been their goal, given their hostility to the very notion of the social contract that is at the heart of that very successful program. They will, like W. Bush and others (including, amazingly, more than a few Democrats), appeal to individual greed in hopes of building support for ending this guaranteed supplemental income that has lifted elderly people from poverty for the past seventy years.

Gutting Medicare. They hate this one, too, no matter what they tell you. The Republicans want to move to something more like a voucher system, so that old and sick folks can go out and buy coverage on the open market – so easy to do when you’re old and sick. Is Medicare losing money? I would expect so, since it only covers (wait for it) old and sick people. If they want it to be solvent, why not expand it to include everybody… including those who don’t need a lot of care? I’m just saying.

Dismantling the Veteran’s Administration medical system. Same deal – vouchers instead of reliable care. This has been shamefully advanced by John McCain, whose beer-heiress wife will pay his medical bills if needed, no doubt.

Nothing particularly new in this list. And there are those amongst the Democrats who would jump right on board with most or all of it. But if the Republicans fail to gain a majority, they would never have the opportunity to do so… so let’s save them (and us) from themselves.

luv u,

jp

Week that was.


Here is the week that was:

Sunday evening, 6:37 p.m. – Mitch Macaphee test-fires the main engine on our ramshackle space craft; the one that will supposedly carry us to many a far-flung rock venue in the galaxy. Based on what I heard, I have my doubts about this vehicle. It took Mitch about fifteen pulls of that rip cord to get the thing smoking, and that’s about all it did… smoke. No lift. Matt just looked on and shook his head. I saw that and shook my head. Whole lot of shakin’ going on ’round here.

Monday afternoon, 12:45 p.m. – Sumptuous lunch of cheese doodles and expired raisins. Did I say sumptuous? I meant nauseating. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) is practicing his galley skills. He has volunteered to be our ship’s cook. Lincoln refuses to call him “cookie” (as Marvin has asked to be called). Anti-Lincoln vehemently disagrees with that refusal. We shake our heads, yet again.

Monday night, 10:30 p.m. – Oh, great – now there’s drinking. No, not the band. (I’m on the wagon, for one, after that last tour.) I mean the man-sized tuber. He’s chugging great gobs of Miracle Grow in hopes of making himself too big to fit into his interstellar terrarium. Apparently he has come to despise that thing, as he does any object that resembles a pot. Fortunately, he’s on wheels, so no matter how large he gets, we can push him along. Or pull him behind. Do plants breathe?

Wednesday morning, 3:00 a.m. – This isn’t a legitimate entry… it’s just the name of a Simon and Garfunkel album. Pretend you didn’t read this.

Thursday afternoon, 2:45 p.m. – Fuel shipment arrives from Madagascar. (Don’t ask me. Mitch found the vendor.) Not sure how our spacecraft is supposed to run on compact alfalfa pellets. This shit looks like rabbit food to me. Mitch assures us that this will carry us from one end of the galaxy to the other. And there is much rejoicing.

Friday night, just past 7:00 p.m. – I finally find that ballpoint pen I lost last week. Was scribbling a threatening note to my creditors, and in my incandescent rage, the thing flipped out of my hand and rolled away. Oh… and we started our countdown to liftoff, by the way. I won’t tell you how far we’ve gotten.