<body><!-- --><div id="b-navbar"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" id="b-logo" title="Go to Blogger.com"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/2/logobar.gif" alt="Blogger" width="80" height="24" /></a><div id="b-sms" class="b-mobile"><a href="sms:?body=Hi%2C%20check%20out%20Scribbles%20From%20L.A.%20at%20www.scribblesfromla.com">Send As SMS</a></div><form id="b-search" name="b-search" action="http://search.blogger.com/"><div id="b-more"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" id="b-getorpost"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/2/btn_getblog.gif" alt="Get your own blog" width="112" height="15" /></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/redirect/next_blog.pyra?navBar=true" id="b-next"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/2/btn_nextblog.gif" alt="Next blog" width="72" height="15" /></a></div><div id="b-this"><input type="text" id="b-query" name="as_q" /><input type="hidden" name="ie" value="UTF-8" /><input type="hidden" name="ui" value="blg" /><input type="hidden" name="bl_url" value="www.scribblesfromla.com" /><input type="image" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/2/btn_search_this.gif" alt="Search This Blog" id="b-searchbtn" title="Search this blog with Google Blog Search" onclick="document.forms['b-search'].bl_url.value='www.scribblesfromla.com'" /><input type="image" src="http://www.blogger.com/img/navbar/2/btn_search_all.gif" alt="Search All Blogs" value="Search" id="b-searchallbtn" title="Search all blogs with Google Blog Search" onclick="document.forms['b-search'].bl_url.value=''" /><a href="javascript:BlogThis();" id="b-blogthis">BlogThis!</a></div></form></div><script type="text/javascript"><!-- function BlogThis() {Q='';x=document;y=window;if(x.selection) {Q=x.selection.createRange().text;} else if (y.getSelection) { Q=y.getSelection();} else if (x.getSelection) { Q=x.getSelection();}popw = y.open('http://www.blogger.com/blog_this.pyra?t=' + escape(Q) + '&u=' + escape(location.href) + '&n=' + escape(document.title),'bloggerForm','scrollbars=no,width=475,height=300,top=175,left=75,status=yes,resizable=yes');void(0);} function blogspotInit() {} --></script><script type="text/javascript"> blogspotInit();</script><div id="space-for-ie"></div>

Tuesday, May 23, 2006




How's it hangin'? And don't say "low but legal" like you always do. You've been using that same stupid line since we were in Youth Academy. It didn't make sense then and it doesn't make sense now. Remember that class? Human Slang for Future Spacefarers? Sgt.

. Jesus, she was hot. We were only 48 at the time and didn't really know what it was all about, but I could tell she was something special. All green, I tell ya. Too bad by the time we were old enough to do anything about it she'd married that jack-off from Recruiting. Lucky stiff.

Anyway, just thought I'd drop you a line to let you know how things have changed here since that time you and I came here for our reconnaissance training. Basically, it's just more. More of everything. More humans, more garbage, more noise, more violence, more sex, more prejudice. More war if you can believe it. That guy running things down here is doing half the work for us.

But what I really wanted to tell you about is that there's this thing down here that people keep saying you'd only be unaware of if you've been living on Mars. You probably remember that expression from Sgt.

's class. It's the same as "living in a cave."

Damn, she was hot. Those antennae.

So there's this thing. It's a phenomenon, really. It's something that's bringing all different people together into a common circle in a way that hasn't happened for quite some time. People who normally would have nothing in common now have this. It's a shared experience, something that everyone feels deeply about. And they LOVE to talk about it. They gather and share their ideas and opinions about it and almost always end up trying to predict what will happen next. It's a vibration rippling across the planet, a buzz that everyone seems to feel.

Basically, what happens is this. Once a week a group of humans gather and sing. Remember these are humans, so their idea of singing isn't the same as ours, but whatever, to each his own. They probably wouldn't appreciate the way we eat every third child as a sacrifice to the mighty overlord, so that's that. To borrow one of their phrases, live and let live, except for that third child, of course. As I was saying, the singing is sent out via the airwaves and electrical systems so that everyone can view the proceedings. After each round of singers has performed, everyone watching transmits a message indicating their choice for the worst singer. At the next gathering that singer is excluded and isn't allowed to sing. Singing in this environment seems to be highly valued. They seem to consider it some sort of privilege which I find confusing since nothing is preventing these people from singing anywhere else. I mean, sing in the shower, sing in the coffee shop, sing on the bus. What's stopping you?

They're all pretty good, by human standards, anyway.

You hear people talking about it all the time. On the street. On their transmitters. Sometimes it seems like people care more about who had their singing privileges rescinded than they do about all the black people dying or the ice caps melting. Yeah, they finally noticed the ice caps. It's like a psychology unto itself, a mania, perhaps even an illness, and they're aware of the illness but are unable or unwilling to find the cure! Indeed, they celebrate the sickness. Look at what I saw in the crowded, steamy area known as Sherman Oaks, California.


, I gotta run. We're off to check on some volcanoes tomorrow. Apparently some of the humans still don't understand that an erupting volcano is not a good place to hang out. Maybe you and I can come back here together someday. We can play tricks on the humans like we used to. You remember, don't you? Anyway, take care. I should be back soon. Say hi to Jimi.




At 5/23/2006 5:37 PM, DasGort said...

you know. at first i was having a hard time tracking, but i loved it by the end.

nice delivery, sir.


Post a Comment

<< Home