Poke Your Eyes Out...

[Another report from the Third Galaxy. This seems to have been written by the inestimable Elmer Eggplant at the time when Ronald Rexona had yet to make his final bid to become the Supreme Hole of Arrogance.]

Sometimes you don't know whether to puke or cry, hit yourself in the head with a hammer or poke your eyes out so as not to see the shit coming down.

I've gotten to where I kind of miss our old Secretary of Defense, Donald Spacefield. True, he was a consummate azzhole and inveterate liar like the rest of the Codpiece administration -- but quite often his lies revealed exactly what he was thinking, it was almost like being able to read his mind.

I remember quite distinctly seeing him say that we would do anything, use any means to preserve and protect Our Arrogant Way of Life. I don't remember exactly when he said it, but it was after Terrible Tuesday and certainly before our invasion of Wuda Wreck. Even as old "Spacey" spoke, I knew that he was talking about control of the world's energy resources in general and in particular the oil and gas reservoirs of the Muddled East.

Instead of using our technology and expertise as well as the cloak of world leadership handed us on a silver platter by the tragedy of Terrible Tuesday, we would use our power to create a hegemony such as the world has never seen. Old Spacy was to implement the will of his masters, the Mighty Codpiece, Ronald Rexona and his evil companion Dick Snarly.

That was some five years ago and now, with more than half a million dead and millions more to die in the fulfillment of the deadly dream of domination I just learned something both new and subtly terrible, in fact an act of criminal negligence.

The eyes in space which monitor the changes in the oceans, the ice caps and the glaciers, the satellites which give us the raw data which allow us to determine how the global climate changes are taking effect and give us some chance of predicting what will happen in the future -- they are being neglected allowed to go dim, to degrade, become inaccurate and lose their usefulness.

Instead of trying to understand how meet the greatest challenge to our very survival we ever know -- monsters plan how to grab the last pieces of good cake for themselves and erect a Fortress of Arrogance.

Like I said, a poor fella doesn't know whether to puke or cry.

[It goes with saying that we should be glad that we don't live in the Third Galaxy. On the other hand, although it is most unlikely that things will ever get so badly out of control as they did in that poor world, if they were to do so, there won't be any Alien Veggies to come drifting down in their strange ships and pull our fat from the fire...]