Forward!

I don’t know. What does that look like to you, Mitch? I think it’s a fizgig, but I can’t be sure. A space sextant? Nah, no way. Never a sextant.

Oh, hi, folks. Big Green, here. Yup… we’re on our way, once again, to sunny Aldebaran. (Since Aldebaran is, in fact, a sun, it’s always sunny there.) Turned out old Dimitri had a few units within our price range. Of course, Mitch has never driven a Soyuz (they’re all standard transmission, you see), but our own Johnny White has volunteered to sit in on the flight controls. Got a pretty good deal on this old clunker, I must admit. I think it may have been part of the Apollo Soyuz mission, but I’m not certain. (At least parts of it might have been part of that mission…. hopefully the good parts.) But it’s sealed, it holds an atmosphere, it’s space-worthy… it’s sold! Though I think Marvin (my personal robot assistant) may be becoming unduly attached to the navigational computer. (Unseemly.)

Okay, so how, you may ask, can we possibly use a 70s-80s vintage vehicle to travel light-years through interstellar space in anything less than millions of years? Good question. Real good question. (I’m thinking.) Quite simple, actually – our resident mad scientist Mitch Macaphee has been hard at work modifying the used Soyuz (or “Soyuzed”, if you will), hopping it up like he did with his ’57 Chevy Bel Aire back in the day. You should have seen old Mitch – he was throwing headers and chrome exhaust on the old Russian capsule like a madman, cranking up its horsepower to the point where it could make such a titanic journey in such a brief period of time. (I speak figuratively, of course. The “headers” are actually ion reactors and the “chrome exhaust” kinetic force generators. Those are, in fact, what Mitch added to his Bel Aire, as well.) Not sure if it’s going to be enough, but I guess we’ll know when we get there (or not).

Who’s doing the navigating? Well, I’m not real good at finding my way from place to place in the universe, I’ll be the first to admit. And we have others in our ship’s complement that are even less talented in this area than I. Still, I think between all of us we can probably find a red giant star that is relatively close to our own solar system. In fact, it should be pretty hard to miss. It’s not like we’re looking for dark matter, or some remote galactic body, like that foreboding place where sFshzenKlyrn, our perennial sit-in guitarist, comes from. (Zenon…. not a real good place if you like breathing oxygen.) I’ve always been a big fan of just pointing the ship at a random object and firing up the engines, but Mitch tells me that’s not the best method. It’s kind of like shooting skeet (not that I’ve ever done that, but…. it’s kind of like it) or like commanding a missile defense battery. Except that this might actually work. (Maybe.)

As I said, we’ll know when we get there. Though at this rate, we’ll probably need Mitch’s time distortion device to catch up with our scheduled performances. (Our contractual pot of coffee is probably cold as a stone by now.)

Not said.

Last debate of the presidential season this past week – #49, I believe – and it was kind of hideous, in my view. Someone in the McCain campaign must have given their man the word to look at Obama, not just once, but frequently. And for god’s sake, don’t look too angry… try to smile from time to time, even when you’re looking at the Muslimy Kenyan guy who hangs with terrorists. Well, McCain appeared to have taken all this advice a bit too literally. For long periods while Obama was speaking, the Republican nominee leered at his opponent with a strange, pasted-on smile, leaning back stiffly in his chair, his eyes glassy, almost zombie-like at times. I know I’ve commented on this before, but McCain looks for all the world like someone applying anger management techniques in the most exhausting way. He has that tendency to deliver a speech in that slow, sing-song fashion, like he’s talking to preschoolers just before nap time. It’s like somebody squeezed a wolverine into a rabbit suit – that’s the John McCain I saw Wednesday night.

Of course, a lot went unsaid and I don’t know why, except that maybe neither candidate feels all that strongly about any of it. Stuff like, well… Iraq, a war that’s still killing and maiming way too many people. (Don’t think so? Look at Juan Cole’s regular synopsis of news from the region.) I know this was a “domestic issues” debate, but really… it can go pretty much anywhere the candidates want it to go. Why didn’t Obama ask McCain if he opposes the draft “security pact” that calls for total withdrawal of U.S. forces by the end of 2011? (Can you say “timetable”?) Presumably McCain opposes that – let’s get him on the record, eh?

How about Social Security? Not much, if anything, said in these last three debates, though I’ve learned that “Joe the plant”… I mean, “Joe the (right-wing talk show regular) plumber” thinks it was a bad idea. This very useful information aside, voters have been provided with virtually no information about either candidates intentions regarding S.S., particularly McCain’s rehash of the perennial G.O.P. plan to save the program by bleeding it to death. McCain doesn’t believe current workers should pay into a fund that supports current retirees…. but that’s precisely how S.S. works. It isn’t designed to individual retirement accounts – it’s designed to be a guaranteed minimum supplementary pension for any worker and/or spouse who reaches retirement age, regardless of whether they’ve been lucky investors or not. (And, as such, it’s been an immensely successful program, keeping old folks out of abject poverty for more than sixty years.) Like all Republicans and many blue-dog Democrats, McCain hates the idea and would rather hand the trust fund money over to the Wall Street pirates he now excoriates on the campaign trail, so that if a worker nearing retirement encounters a downturn (like right now) or is just unlucky in health or fortune, s/he can go to the soup kitchen for his/her pension.

There’s a lot else that wasn’t discussed – missile defense, private military contractors, politicization of the Justice Department, domestic spying, arbitrary detention, pre-emptive war, etc. What did get discussed, aside from the opinions of “Joe the plant”, was McCain’s idea of what constitutes a threat to the very “fabric of our democracy” – i.e. a volunteer organization like ACORN – and the fact that the “woman’s health” exception in anti-abortion legislation is some kind of extremist pro-abortion dodge. Sweet guy.

Oh yes… and Bill Ayres is a “terrorist”. Like McCain friend G. Gordon Liddy. Like every Republican’s friend Luis Posada Carriles. Like McCain booster Oliver North. Like still-president George W. Bush.

luv u,

jp

Between floors.

Is this the emergency alert button? No? Okay – the red one. Gotcha. Now… which one is the emergency telephone? No, I’m not an idiot! It’s goddamn dark in here!

Well, we’re off. Off the bottom of the elevator shaft, at least. Whoever thought a space elevator to Aldebaran was a good idea? Oh, yes… Mitch Macaphee. Our mad science advisor. Creator of Marvin (my personal robot assistant). Winner of the coveted Igor prize for depraved experimentation. Yes… that Mitch Macaphee…. he is the guy who thought of this seriously under-engineered contraption. Hey, we fucked up – we trusted him. Not one of us (with the exception of Matt) has any familiarity at all with the concepts of mad science. If we’d done our homework in Mrs. Buehler’s class, we might have known better. But no, not us… we just read our comic books (most entertaining!) and traded our lunch money for second-hand smokes (cough!). In the meantime, geeky kids like Mitch were collecting the knowledge that would make them all-powerful later in life… if occasionally inept.

How did it all happen? Well… I’m gon’ tell yuh. We packed all of our gear into the space elevator. It was a tight fit, to be sure. Anti Lincoln insisted on bringing at least a representative sample from his anvil collection. Then of course there was the man-sized tuber’s terrarium – as necessary a piece of equipment for him as a breathing apparatus or twin-cylinder beer hat might be for us. (Don’t let anyone tell you not to breathe or drink in space.) I won’t even talk about how much kit old Mitch Macaphee hauls along with him. He needs a fully equipped electro-atomization laboratory everywhere he goes, including the goddamned bathroom. (I reached for a bar of soap the other day and ended up with a handful of plutonium dust. Fortunately, Mitch assures me it’s harmless.) I could go on, but…

…I will! Now Marvin needs to walk on stilts everywhere because of a bet he made with Big Zamboola. (He lost, apparently.) So he practically fills the room vertically every time he staggers in, and Zamboola fills it horizontally. Anyway… the bloody space elevator got so jam-packed with personal effects that the laser-beam cable it rides on actually started to fray. We couldn’t reach escape velocity because of the drag, and now we’re bobbing in orbit like an enormous yo-yo. (Look, ma… Earth’s walking the dog!) This doesn’t leave us with a lot of good options. I mean, we can’t carry news of our new album, International House, to Aldebaran in a bucket! So we’re left with a choice between:

  1. Bobbing pointlessly in space for the rest of eternity;

  2. Climbing back down to Earth on a fire rope; or

  3. Finding a used space craft… fast!

Fortunately for us, there appears to be one or two used capsule options up here. I can see one through the porthole right now – “Dimitri’s Pre-Owned Soyuz”. Sounds like the place for a deal.

Weird ass music since 1986