Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Martian lands on post-election Toronto
Suppose a Martian were to write this blog.
Supposing he saw "spots" out of his saucer window on his way here, and that would have maybe even scared the average alien.
Migod, this is extraterrestrial!
What would he say?..."Well, it's a typical earth-specific phenomenon. Some earth astronauts in their crude analogies for spacecraft have seen 'spots' outside their capsules, and when debriefed by psychologists, they would be asked..."And what did the little spots say?
"Ah, little did they know that those spots 'R' Us ."
"But how come I now see them as spots?
"Likely the ashes of the cremated, now in orbit, since the recession on earth has hardly left any money for anybody to be buried any more. Nobody down there seems to have any Herns, not even change for a Gloopel. And even funeral pyres are expensive. Hindus in Haiti have a hard time. There ain't no wood. And that's not so good. In poor, denuded Haiti, everybody now, has the shits. And there ain't no trees fer to make the toilet paper. So the poor Haitians get worse things, like the awful C word. It's a good thing I have no feelings. I am an alien.
The Martian is my alter ego, I suppose.
In my perfervid imagination, I can see the Martian.
Predictably, he is is vaguely of mongoloid appearance, though very large-eyed, more like a bug's eyes.
He appears to be wearing some sort of cottony white Wookie- weight band on his silvery body, but it extends all the way down to his crotch and his nether quarters; it could well be a kind of shoulder-to-ass diaper. An incontinent Martian?...Well, maybe something here on earth gives him the shits.
He comes out of his craft already yelling and complaining, perhaps like a Canadian immigrant today
Act and don't react. Your planet is shit.Your culture is shit. Earth gives me the shits. And fuck-off."
He taps his hollow chest. " Important Documents! All the way from Uranus.
"At least on Mars, we have communal relief. You guys sit alone on the commode, usually thoughtful.
We sh*t and stink communally.
You have no such thing here. You only shit communally on smokers. And local muslims-- if redneck radio that I hear naturally, with no antenna, is any example.
The Martian has actually landed in Toronto, Canada.
"I see by all the day-after-the- election headlines all around that they now have a new mayor.
Well. It's about time. An overtaxed, fascist city in a Canadian culture obsessed with homosexuality. Even the heir-apparent to the Liberal Pary has a cupid's-bow mouth. What is this planet coming to? Is this the only way to fight overpopulation? Ask. I will tell! And baby, who are you? That's some Halloween outfit!
It may as well be Halloween in this culture. Waiting relatives at Pearson International Airport greeted with a "You-Hoo", as if they were in San Francisco, where eveybody is already airborne, hardly needing any airplanes.
The story is apochryphal, but someone swears he saw former Mayor Miller shopping for puce-cloured chaps down in Yorkville, where all the stars come from Hollywood.
But Sam, you left the ass-end out!
A society gay, and proud of it. And turned intellectual.
"My ancestors were already homosexual while yours were still in the trees."
Giggling cops and U. S. Marines, eager to tell, and even show, break up couples.
People are still snogging!
The emperor has no clothes and is looking for little boys.
The defeated candidate is in a gay marrieage. "Well, yippie shit!" says my Martian.
"No kind of spouse spouse left behind."
But oh, Toronto now has a new mayor.
His name is Ford. He is not sexually mobile.
"Fordy!" says the retard on the elevator.
Says the Martian, who is a hermaphrodite,"They've got it all ass backwards. At least until Oh Henry here got elected. I'd tell them all to go f*ck themselves, but then they would know things, and become like us."
And with that, he scratched his big left ear, and almost had an orgasm.