Tag Archives: planets

2164. Interplanetary wisdom

There is a phrase that the natives use on the Planet Dismusious that goes: Éðß¿¿ ƣŶƛź ḝ ⅌ℱ℥ӝҤӃ. Literally translated it says: He who likes not turnips should not fish.

Of course the word used is not “turnips” as they don’t have turnips on Dismusious. Nor for that matter do they have fish. Nor do the Dismusiousians have any word to denote negation such “non” and “not”. In fact to a non-Dismusiousian the phrase is quite meaningless. However, with a little help from an erudite bunch of alter-aliens a semblance of meaning can be deciphered.

Strictly speaking it is a warning – when conjurnicating don’t wedleidong else you could harm the qiesllon. Mrs. Masie Brown of Wisconsin said she had never heard anything so stupid. One has nothing to do with the other and both convey no meaning whatsoever.

Professor Lola Fitzsimons was able to point out a few home truths to Mrs. Maisie Brown.

“You,” said Professor Lola, “are a shameless bag of cow manure. You judge everything by earth’s standards. But there are other ways of skinning a cat elsewhere in the universe. You suffer from a bad case of ethnocentricity. When it comes to the way inhabitants on other planets do and say things, your racism comes to the fore. You are caught is the all-devouring whirlpool of Earthling superiority.”

“All I can say in response to that,” said Mrs. Masie Brown, “is Éðß¿¿ ƣŶƛź ḝ ⅌ℱ℥ӝҤӃ. So put that in your pipe and ԋԀ ðՆԿŶƛỼ it.”

2042. A secretary’s report

I never like it much when a committee I belong to elects me as its secretary for a meeting. It has happened quite a few times throughout my short life. It was an initial thrill to be chosen to represent Planet Earth at a meeting of COPP (Coalition of Populated Planets). There were forty-three other planets represented. These forty-three members had been meeting for years. This was the first time Earth had been invited to the discussion. It was exciting! but then they went and elected me as secretary. I presume they did so to shut me up. I guess I should be pleased, but a chore is a chore.

The subject of the meeting was “Whether to invite Planet Earth to become a permanent member of the Coalition of Populated Planets.” I should make it clear from the start that I had recused myself, even though I didn’t have the right to vote anyway. Oicurmt from Planet Cuzique suggested that my very act of recusal when it wasn’t even applicable was reason enough to bar Earth from joining. “We don’t want stupidity to enter into COPP. Nonsense! Complete balderdash! Utter rubbish! Silliness has reached new heights! It’s bonkers! Nincompoopery at the apex of ridiculousness!”

Pkjzqqht from Planet Bvdcjllp (these Bvdcjllpians always seem to have unpronounceable names) thought that leaders on Planet Earth were two-faced. “They haven’t yet proved that what they say and what they do is the same thing.” “Yes!” agreed Oicurmt from Planet Cuzique. “It’s stark raving stupidity! Madness! I’ve never heard of anything so loony in all my life!”

Yulululu of Planet Kangaflufu said that Planet Earth’s preference for war over negotiation was not something they would want to influence the deliberations of COPP. “They’re constantly at each other’s gardła (“gardła” is Kangaflufuvian for “throats”). “Yes!” agreed Oicurmt from Planet Cuzique. “It’s so very…”

This discussion went on and on. It is unnecessary to report on all forty-three negative comments from all forty-three member planets. Suffice to say that the result of the final vote was 43-1. You see, even though I had recused myself I voted anyway. I couldn’t believe the negativity of all these inferior planets.

The bit I didn’t like was having to return to Planet Earth and announce that our inclusion into COPP had been rejected. Instead (since I was the secretary) I told everyone that “it was a very easy call. The other planets love us and feel that they could learn so much by assimilating something of Earth’s over-powering magnanimity. The final vote was unanimous.”

As a footnote, it should be mentioned that the leaders of Earth were enraptured. We are certainly more powerful than other planets in terms of the military, and since our peaceful request has been accepted we shall now more easily influence the decisions of COPP by resorting to threats and violence.

2041. An incredible gift

(The opening sentence for this story was suggested by Craig, a great supporter of this blog.)

It was an incredible gift, to be sure, but there was the minor matter of how to safely store something so unquestionably dangerous!

For years Planet Earth had been Planet Tut-Tut’s most dangerous enemy. The Tut-Titians could have blown Earth to smithereens in seconds but they had always exercised restraint. Planet Earth had insulted them and ridiculed them and laughed at their incapacity to imagine things. A Tut-Titian could not imagine his or her own mother. They had no picture. Nature had evolved them totally bereft of imagination. That’s not imagination in the creative sense, but imagination as being able to picture physical things in the mind.

The Tut-Titians had grown tired of Earth’s scorn. To appease Earthlings they presented Earth with a gift. It was a weapon. Drop it on Tut-Tut and it would blow Tut-Tut to bits. “Now we are equal,” said the Tut-Titians.  “You have the power to destroy us as we for years have had the power to destroy you. You must learn to safely store something so dangerous with restraint. We look forward to working with you in peace and harmony.”

“Oh goody,” said Planet Earth’s President, and pressed the button.

1949. A guilt trip

The arrival of certain story numbers on this blog sometimes contains an unsuspecting significance. In this case it is Story 1949. 1949 was the year I was born. The number surely demands something special?

Let me reveal something that maybe you never suspected.

Some mad people (they are mad people because I happen to know that things like that simply don’t happen) believe that at some stage they were abducted by aliens and experimented upon either in the alien space craft or taken to the home planet to be examined. What nonsense! I should know, because I am an alien implant.

I volunteered on my home planet to undergo a seventy-seven year or so stay on Planet Earth to better ascertain whether or not the planet would be worth taking over. Thus was I implanted in 1949 (Earth date) and born into what appeared to be normalcy.

Twenty years had not passed when I received a message that warfare on my home planet had erupted and, to make a long story short, my planet and all its inhabitants had been destroyed. This was not only sad but it created a problem for me because I no longer had reason to report back about Planet Earth. Nor do I know what I should do once the seventy-seven years or so are up. I can’t go on living here getting older and older without transmogrifying into something that Earthlings might consider strange.

So that’s where I’m at, at the moment. I’ll gladly take suggestions, but, PLEASE, no dingbats making ridiculous claims about “I too am an alien”. I know a good alien when I see one, and there are many charlatans on Planet Earth. There are perhaps more charlatans here than on any other inhabited planet in the universe.

Incidentally I know of only one other space alien currently on Planet Earth. She lives “overseas” and I have nothing to do with her. She’s from another planet from me altogether. Why would we need to work together? Can a horse and a cow join together to pull the same cart? (That is a saying once used on my home planet). Apparently she’s here to study cloud formation for a doctoral thesis. They’re so backward where she comes from.

There you have it! The number 1949 has certainly made me face the music. I’m actually feeling quite guilty that I haven’t told you about all this before.

1762. Alien infiltration

No one knew exactly where they came from. Earth visits by exoplanet aliens were becoming so common that the whole thing was humdrum. There were millions of different types of aliens visiting from all over the cosmos; so many that Earth decided to set up some sort of registration office. Each “species” of alien could await their turn. After all, they were basically “coming just for a look”. Like Earthling tourists in the old days, nothing was added to the Grand Canyon simply by having lots of inquisitive tourists. It would be different if an alien species came to share its technology with Earth.

Most exoplanet species didn’t mind the registration and visiting timetable schedule. A few exoplanet species however had evolved as deviants. Like the Earthling Communist Chinese of a previous era they had stolen the technology (in this case from other planets) – which was how they had the wherewithal to travel to Earth. Basically, when it came to being scientifically practical, they were relatively thick.

An example would be when they tried to bypass the registration setup. Some dumb exoplanet genius had devised a plan to infiltrate Earth by having a whole army pose as Earthling mailboxes. They were to stand motionless at every house gate and observe. (It must be added here for those who scoff, that these particular aliens were masters of transmogrification). They had missioned to Earth a team to capture the template of the basic mailbox. Moulds were made of the prototype. Thousands of mailboxes were manufactured. Each mailbox was imbued with the being of an exo-alien. The possessed mail boxes were placed at every earthling’s gate, replacing the mailboxes that were there.

There stood the aliens, motionless and observant; “spying” would be a better word. That was until Mrs Bridie McDonald of Chattanooga went out to check her mail. She was the first in the world that day to do so. She discovered that her mailbox no longer had any moving parts. They had ended up doing what the Japanese had done in an earlier Earth era: the Japanese had made trumpets with a mould so that there were no moving valves.

Every infiltrating mailbox was thrown onto a non-carbon-producing bonfire, and the dumb invasive exoplanet species were banned permanently from Earth. Way to go, Earthlings! Although, as an addendum, Mrs Bridie McDonald of Chattanooga did in later years admit to having found her mailbox particularly attractive – which might well explain why later that year her son was born with no moving parts.

1709. Molly, the last of her kind

It was a sad day when the animal known as Molly died in the zoo. She was the last known specimen of her kind. For years thousands of visitors would line up to view “MOLLY, THE LAST OF HER KIND.” No one was exactly sure what evolutionary line she belonged to, although scientists had categorized her all over the show. They definitely knew her to be some sort of mammal.

The zoo had hoped to start a breeding program. Fairly early on there were two females and two males, but the males and females seemed to show little interest in one another. Then three of them died of some unknown and sudden cause, and that left Molly on her own for what must have been a good thirty years.

And now she’s gone. Forever.

When the Spargundians invaded planet Earth and ruthlessly slaughtered the billions of what seemed to be an intelligent species, they took home only the four samples of the species. The proposed breeding program at the Spargundian Zoological Gardens didn’t pay off. The leader of the Spargundians has since decreed that when further planetary invasions take place, they must bring home a minimum of twelve intelligent specimens for a breeding program.

In the meantime, Molly is in the hands of a taxidermist getting stuffed.

1119. An astronomical migration

(During the next few days we shall be commemorating Science Fiction Day with a Science Fiction story. Science Fiction Day is celebrated each year on Isaac Asimov’s birthday: January 2nd. Ok ok – haven’t you heard of a Time Warp? Of course, there’s music and poetry to come next – before the second Science Fiction story!)

It was the first major interstellar migration. The one hundred and fifty people leaving Planet Earth knew that they themselves wouldn’t get there. They would live to a ripe old age, die in space, and be reverently tossed out the space craft to float indefinitely in the never-never.

In fact, none of the next generations would make it either. But the fifth and sixth generations would arrive and begin the exciting venture of “populating the universe”. They called their destined planet “Ýntsodar” which is “Radostný” in Slovak spelt backwards! The excitement of arrival! Only three more earth-long days of travel left!

And arrive they did. The conditions on the planet were perfect for human existence. Unfortunately, by now the population was so inbred that the migration experiment collapsed.