Monday, September 7, 2009

Prayer to (for) Collateral Damage

In my strive to offset middle age aches and pains and a guilty conscience, I thought of a prayer I might say to thank the Afgan people for doing their bit for democracy, Wall Street and Jesus. For taking it on the chin in the collateral damage department thing – testing out our drone stuff and new technology – doing their part – ya know.

But as sometimes happens I dose off, thoughts and dreams merge, and I am stuck talking to these hippie/beatnik like losers on a street corner. They are painted blue, and turn out to be real honest to goodness Martians.

Why are you blue?

It’s cold up there dude!

And why are you here?

Tourists man, the dollar ain’t worth shit and the Martian Gubla is now being traded on a few exchanges, (Mongolia etc.).

Any attraction in particular you interested in here in New York.

Glenn Beck man – he is the Dude! Yeah he can see through stone man! He’s got our number.


Yeah. Like he wants to interview us and put us on his entertainment show. Talk about Obamo or somebody.

I thought he was a newscaster.

Dude. What ain’t you smoking dude? The man is like a real Martian man. We Martians want entertainment, stories, first class B.S. and Glenn is like the man!

The man?

Well we really came to see Tom Delay do his dance thing but we find out that they film that stuff out of New York. Bummer. We are like reading some old tourist stuff from the fifties. Jive! Ya dig?


And we read minds sometimes too. That’s how we got tuned into Glenn baby. We like tuned in on the Tom dude and we get the vibe that he would like Glenn to dance in a competition with him – not one on one – but with couples. Dancing is very popular on Mars.

I see.

The scene fades and I remember something.

Well the thoughts and dreams change. I know I cannot muster a prayer fitting for the slaughter in Afganistan and take comfort in the fact that entertainment can do more for the human soul than news – and it goes the same at least for some Martians. So it goes. Just like on Tralfamadore. That’s in Ohio? Right?

Live and learn. Or just pretend.


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