Drat these computers, they're so naughty and complex

Damnable server apparently ate my last two posts. No time to fix them now, I'm already late for a tea party.
Back soon, though. Stay safe, kiddies, and, if you're travelling to the South in the near future, remember: Don't drink the Kool-Aid.

Peace.

Spring is in the Air

Yep, it's that time of year again. You step outside, take a deep, slow breath, feel the warm sunshine on your face, and you think to yourself, "What the hell is that smell"? Then it hits you: it's March. And you know what that means. That means the humidity comes back. For those of you not immediately familiar with the southeastern regions of the United States, I should explain what I mean by humidity. In the plain meteorological terms which apply everywhere else in the world, humidity refers, simplistically, to the moisture content of the atmosphere. Here in the quaint little geographic oddity where I live, humidity is a highly ironic euphemism for the ubiquitous, suffocating miasma that broods in the air waiting for a chance to envelop you bodily and condense until you're drenched to the skin (which usually takes about thirty seconds, depending on your attire). This can become a problem. Some enterprising individuals seek temporary relief by wearing rain slickers when they are forced to travel out of doors, or by hiding in a neighbor's sauna to dry off for a bit. By the peak of the season--usually just prior to the peak of summer--residents are advised to periodically apply a light coating of marine-grade preservative to shrubberies and small pets which must be left outside for long periods of time. Which brings me back to where we came in: the smell. After about two days, three at the outside, this roiling, saturated atmosphere begins to undergo some little-understood chemical process by which it breaks down into roughly the same substances which might be found in the velour upholstery of a Buick that has been submerged in the Everglades for a month. And so as if it weren't enough trouble lugging around the aqualung all the time, we then find ourselves immersed for months at a stretch in a fetid, reeking, wet-dog fug that not even Old Spice will penetrate. They never print this stuff in the travel brochures...

Remember though, how I said that in March the humidity comes back? Yes, we do get something of a short reprieve during the coldest of the winter months. Where does the humidity--foul and wretched thing of evil--go? We don't know, and frankly we're not interested in finding out, except insomuch as we might strive to avoid wherever it is. But it, like that odd uncle who always drinks too much and gets into arguments with his dead wife at family reunions, always comes back. And when it does, it's a sure sign that spring is near at hand, hanging precariously in the air, ready to fall headlong upon us like a drunken 250-pound frat boy plunging into a swimming pool after balancing on the railing of a second-story balcony while trying to urinate into a manicured bed of Mr. Lincoln roses. Not only will we once more have air moist enough to shower in and redolent of fried goat to look forward to, but inches-thick blankets of plant pollen and virulent, cruelly self-aware strains of plant life as well. Oh, and let us not forget the heat-seeking, armor-plated, nuclear powered, GPS-equipped killer attack wasps that always choose to live and/or mate in unfortunate locations, such as under the small of your back as you lie shirtless on the grass--which is extremely foolish for a number of other reasons, some of which we will discuss at another time.

Oh, I know, I hear you. Spring is for lovers, you say. Spring is a magical time of rebirth, when the world comes alive after a bleak winter slumber, a time when everything is wrought with the electricity of...whatever. Balls. It's hard to be romantic when you've rendered yourself semi-conscious with over-the-counter antihistamines trying to combat pollen allergies. As for rebirth, I suppose I can't argue that. Mosquitoes proliferate by the trillions this time of year. And I've only ever encountered electricity in the springtime once before...

...when I nearly electrocuted myself repairing damage caused by my faithful lawn maintenance machinery in pursuit of a feeble attempt to keep my lawn in check.


I think I'll just stay inside till Thanksgiving.

Math is Funny Like That

Did you ever stop to wonder just who comes up with all the statistics we're forced to absorb on a daily basis? Well I did, and what I discovered will shock you...

Wait, what's that?

Sorry, you're going to have to hold that thought. This is interesting.

Anybody know where I can find 716,009 spiders?
I want to try something...

The Results are in...

That's right, friends, the totals from Super Tuesday are in and counted, and we can now say with authority that the winner is...

...whichever itinerant alien race gets here first.
I don't know about you people in the rest of the world who, for reasons of culture or currency, are relatively insulated from the collective American psyche, but I for one think we're long overdue for an inter-special changing of the guard. I say we've done damage enough to this unassuming little world, and we ought to let someone else have a go at it for a while. They can scarcely do worse, can they? Less than 200,000 years since any ancestor we would readily recognize on the street appeared, and already we've had centuries of war, genocide, and ritual bloodletting, as well as multiple seasons of American Idol and many other unfathomable cruelties. But not to ourselves alone have we restricted our destructive tendencies. According to one reliable estimate that I just made up, as many as four hundred species worldwide become officially endangered or extinct each day, roughly a third of which are consumed by the McDonald's Corporation alone. Even the earth itself has not been immune to our pestilence. We've pilfered the forests, poisoned the air, befouled the deeps of the sea, raped the soil for its riches, and erected innumerable grotesqueries on the face of the world--not by far the least of which is New Jersey. Moreover, we leave one of our most advanced, powerful, and influential civilizations in the care of a man who routinely requires Secret Service assistance to interpret the cartoons in his Sunday newspaper. So I ask again: Could any theoretical interstellar interlopers conceivably do worse were they to have run of the place?
To illustrate, let us play devil's--or alien's, as the case may be--advocate. Let's you and I assume for a moment that extraterrestrial lifeforms did in fact come to colonize the earth. What then? To answer this question, we need to make a few assumptions. First, let us assume that the alien visitors are native to some world outside of our immediate stellar neighborhood. Based on what Mr. Drake has to say on the subject, this seems a very fair assumption. Secondly, we will assume that, as they managed to come here in the first place, they--or at least some members of their civilization--must be significantly more technologically advanced than are we. Thirdly, let us assume that they have come here intentionally; that is, they have traveled here with a specific purpose or intent, rather than having simply wandered by on their way to somewhere else. This implies forethought, reconnaissance, and planning. This is also an arbitrary assumption, but let us make it anyway. The correlation of these two assumptions logically suggests a fourth, which is for our present purposes irrelevant but interesting nonetheless. If these are significantly advanced beings who decided at some point to bend their technological might to making the long journey to earth from their homeworld even after they knew what it was like here, then we may safely assume that they are a highly masochistic species. If we take as given that their presence on earth is purposeful, what might that purpose be? Curiosity seems a solid motive, for even though an advanced civilization must set a high stake on the extravagancies of interstellar travel, surely only a highly developed sense of intellectual fervor could lead them to their advanced state. After all, curiosity is the forbear of science. So we might say that they are here because they wish to find out...
Find out what? Perhaps to find out what sort of geological formations our planet possesses, or then again maybe to find out whether or not we taste good with breakfast. As I see it, what they wished to find out is immaterial. The heart of the scientific method, regardless of the nature of the heart of the scientist, remains the same: Observation. It doesn't seem unreasonable to assume that they could observe us without our knowledge if they so desired. If they did so, then we would never know we were the object of their scrutiny. Given that scenario, our lives would continue unchanged. In fact, this may very well be going on right now. You know, that bush outside is a little closer to the house than it was yesterday...
If we discount pure science--which is likely just as rare in the alien species as it is in our own--we must then assume that they are curious in a much more...shall we acquisitive manner. Much like the intrepid explorers in earth's past, they might come in search of revelry, of rarities and riches with which to return to their distant homes. Or perhaps it is in fact a home they seek. This notion brings--or so I should hope--to the reader's mind a number of possibilities:

"What if they kill us all simply because they don't understand us?"

"What if they use their superior technology to force us to live like they do, and worship their heathen alien Gods?"

"They might take away our planet because they like it better than theirs."

"They might not want to stay here, but would instead herd us onto giant intergalactic vessels and indenture us for the rest of eternity in their equivalent of a salt mine."

..to which I can only say, "Hmm. How about that?"

So then let us construct a final, implausible, worst-case. The aliens have indeed come bent on making our world their home with or without our cooperation. Having come prepared to defend themselves, they are more than capable of besting any attack we, the lesser technological entity, can mount. We are then swept away with little fanfare to one of the remoter corners of the biosphere, where, presenting little if any threat to the usurpers, we are allowed to eke out whatever miserable existence we might until such time as we annihilate ourselves in a fit of petty bickering--no doubt precipitated by something highly pertinent, such as whether or not Howard Stern should have been removed from Clear Channel Radio. Or, if we survive long enough to make some feeble showing of political presence again, we may in time be allowed certain minor ambassadorial discourse with the new overlords. They, being the mightier, compel us to take on a somewhat subservient role in their society, something of a satellite civilization. Eventually, if we are this lucky, we end up under the total and unflinching domination of inscrutable creatures who barely--if at all--speak our language and demonstrate little understanding of or concern for our needs, desires, general wellbeing, etc. We are subjected to mandates we cannot hope to comprehend, and, in all likelihood, are forced to pay heartily for the privilege.

Come to think of it, how would this scenario present any major change?


This is all fine and good in jest, but I'm not naive enough to believe that the total domination of the human race by aliens would be a pleasant thing. I simply mean to convey that the total domination of the human race by other humans is not necessarily any more so.
But seriously, though, alien invasion is, if not an immediate peril, at least a plausible notion, at least in America. Don't take this to mean that I believe America to be any more likely a spot for invasion. I simply mean to say that such a thing is more plausible in America. After Curious George W.'s rationale for war in Iraq passed public scrutiny with barely and eyelash flutter from Jane and John Q. Public--and their bastard son, Sam--I'm convinced that we'll swallow anything. I can just hear the Conservatives--they of the shaved-head, hyper-Nationalist, Nazi-jackbooted, hound-dog-and-a-basement-bunker variety--now:

"If we don't go out of our way to make welcome these esteemed extraterrestrial visitors of ours, with their vastly superior weapons and technology, you can bet the Terrorists will!"