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Scwk’s and Bzls’ Excellent Adventure

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Editorial Note:  The aliens depicted in the story are fictional and any resemblance

 to any alien lifeforms – past, present, or future – is purely coincidental.


Scwk rolled his third eye stalk around in his cranium and croaked, “I don’t know about this, Bzls; I think we ought to give this planet a pass.”  Of course, he didn’t vocalize this thought, and not just because he lacked vocal chords.  As befitted his kind, he simply beamed his thoughts at his sole shipmate.


Excitedly, Bzls waved his tentacles and beamed back, “We can’t just write Earth off so blithely,” he countered reasonably.  “Humans have been around about a quillion pqjs, and theirs is the only planet in this solar system to support intelligent life.  This indicates evolution.”


“After even minimal monitoring of their communications, you call them intelligent?!?  You call this evolution?!?” Scwk sneered.


“Look.  We don’t have enough fuel to leave this solar system, swing by Alpha Centauri to see what’s shakin’ there, and still make it safely back home.  I say we hang out on Earth for a bit and see who … and what … may be worth saving.  Or exploiting.”  In anticipation, Bzls flushed a fetching shade of lime green.


In two shakes of a qlkg’s tail, the aliens had landed smack in the middle of Greenwich Village on All Hallow’s Eve.  Transvestites of all shapes, sizes, and adornments cavorted flamboyantly and merrily down Sixth Avenue or rode on floats, trailed by street-clad butches of both sexes.  Music trumpeted, confetti fell liberally, and cameras flashed.  Steam rose from open manholes, rookie cops averted their eyes, and the air was redolent of gyros, dirty water hot dogs, and rotting garbage.  No one paid a lick of attention to the two aliens.


“Would you look at this?” Scwk scowled.  “Other aliens beat us to it! Scads of them!”


“No, no,” his companion argued.  “Take a closer look.  All of these beings are bipeds: humans!  We hit the jackpot!”


No sooner were the words out of his Bzls’ brain than he was grabbed by one of his tentacles and pulled into the crowd.  Scwk swooshed off in hot pursuit.


“Well, aren’t you the inventive one!” chirped Bzls’ kidnapper.  He bore an uncanny resemblance to Cher, but for the telltale athletic cup bulging from his Bob Mackie knock-off gown.  “Great costumes! I’m Timmy, by the way.”


The aliens introduced themselves and Timmy batted his false lashes.  “Excellent get ups!  I don’t even see your lips moving!  Actually … I don’t see any lips at all.  This your first Village Halloween parade?”


“Well, yes.  We’re from out of town … way out of town.”


Timmy sniffed. “Hmmmfff.  The Bible Belt.  I hear that.  Don’t worry; you’re among your own kind now.”


“We are?!?


“Sure, sugar.  And you’ll both probably take First Prize in the parade this year.  Ohhhhhh … there’s that adorable biker who likes to hang out by the record shop on St. Mark’s.  He’s got a real way with that whip that he cracks oh so subtly.  You two will excuse me, won’t you?  Love is in the air!”


In a pouf, Timmy was gone.  Confounded by all the hoopla, the aliens sought a human not caught up in the revelry.  In the darkened alcove of an adult toy shop, closed for the festivities, lolled a male human in torn, dirty clothes.  With a mouth minus a few teeth, he grinned oily at the parade, happy for this annual distraction.  Scwk nudged his companion, indicating their target.


“Aliens, huh?” the man squinted.  “Well, breathe easy. Obama’s in office and even he wasn’t born here.  I’m Harold, by the way.  I used to be a computer programmer in better days.  You guys sightseeing?”


“Actually, we are in need of much information, and we require it quickly.  Information about your society.”


“What, you guys got no Internet hook up?  The economy hit you two hard, too?  What sort of info ya need?”


Blzs said, “We wish to know who or what is worth saving here and who or what is not.”


Harold scratched his head.  “Geez. Ya really are from out of town, ain’t ya?  Well, ya can’t be terrorists; ya wouldn’t even be askin’ that.  And ya wouldn’t be botherin’ with the likes o’ me.  What the heck?  I’ll bite; you two are more entertaining than the parade.  Come with me.”


He led them to an all-night newsstand and threatened the owner with loitering there all night long and stinking up his air supply if the guy didn’t hand over a copy of a thin magazine, gratis.  “Here ya go,” Harold said, after the Chinese newsagent had given him what he’d wanted.  “Here’s yer Bible.”


“Bible?”


“Info.  Condensed.  With photos, too, lots of ’em.”


The National Perspirer?” Scwk asked.


“You got it.  Come over here under the street lamp, and I’ll show ya.”  Fascinated, the aliens watched as Harold turned the pages.


“This here’s Kim Kardasian.  Her family blew $10 million clams on her wedding.  Ten million!  I can’t get a job but these people are tossing away millions.”


“This is bad?”


“This is a crime!  She ain’t worth savin’.  And this here babe with this itty bitty dog?  I seen rats that could eat her pooch for an appetizer on this very street.  That’s Paris Hilton.  A waste of life.  Not worth savin’.  Ah, and this is Tiger Woods.  Rich as Croesus, famous as hell, and he bopped whatever walked.”


“Bopped?”


“Screwed.”


“Screwed?”


Harold sighed.  “He attempted to procreate with many women other than his wife.  He’s gotta go, too.  Now we come to the politicians.  Oh hell.  Just off ’em all, I say.”


 


All?


“We need to clean house.  Well, maybe spare Sarah Palin.  I hate her politics, but she’s a babe.  A guy needs a little eye candy.”


“Is there anyone worth saving?”


“Sure, lookee here.”


And Harold went on to show the “out of towners” several stories of hard working individuals and families.  They reached out to each other with food, clothing, and shelter.  They established and promoted charities and other grass roots organizations designed to give comfort, both concrete and emotional, during the one of the darkest periods in the nation: 2011.


“You wanna save these folks,” Harold confided.  “And you wanna save people like me, too.  People who, through no fault of their own, lost their jobs, their homes, their lives.  Save, also, the educators, the artists, the writers, the doctors and nurses and engineers — heck.  Ya just gotta get ridda the rich and powerful, basically, as well as the terrorists: it’s a pretty small group compared to the rest of us.”  Wishful thinking, Harold thought, but the aliens had caught it.



Sagely, they nodded.  They had seen the light, and it wasn’t the streetlamp.


Nearly a year later, peace reigned in the land of the free and the home of the brave.  All wars had ceased.  The Earth began to replenish herself and the humans lived happily off her.


The rich and powerful had been beamed out into space … sans spacecrafts.  Their wealth had been distributed equitably amongst the hard working, the newly poor, and the age-old destitute.  Decisions were made by consensus and every vote counted; there were no hanging chads.  Neither were there any “I never inhaled” and draft-dodging Presidents.  America had returned to its initial intended state: a true democracy, with life and liberty for all.



Timmy married the biker in a lovely ceremony in Washington Square Park.  The bride wore petal pink and his groom wore leather, chains, and tattoos.  Harold, Scwk, Bzls, Mayor Bloomberg, Wendy Williams, and a host of others celebrated the nuptials with champagne toasts and revelry.  The aliens had hired Harold to run their IT unit — with one caveat.  He was to convey nothing but good news through the ‘net, which Scwk and Bzls now ran in full cooperation with Bill Gates.


A year after Timmy’s prediction, Scwk and Bzls did indeed take First Prize in the annual Village Halloween Parade.  Eyewitness News reporters covered the event and then joined in the annual march.


All’s well that ends well.  Except, of course, for the s***bags, who were now space dust!  


The Alien in the Mirror

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Based upon the Dan Brown novel of the same name and starring Tom Hanks, the film “The DaVinci Code” wove a complex mystery akin, in a way, to the old ’49ers’ search for gold.  These men would sift their pans repeatedly, day after day, week after week, in the hope of finding a nugget of the precious yellow metal.  In the process, they had to mire their way through a lot of worthless silt.  But those who found gold amassed their little treasures, nugget by nugget, until they’d found enough to add up to a significant sum. Hanks’ character, Tom Langdon, had to sift through a lot of metaphorical silt as well: red herrings, double crosses, and dead ends as he unearthed and labored to interpret a number of cryptic symbols that brought him to a very controversial conclusion.  Whether or not we agree with Mr. Brown’s conclusion (we don’t), one thing in this tale is inarguable: on the surface, things are not always what they seem.


The same holds true for many things on this planet, including the theory behind the origin, evolution, and current status of the Aryan race.


The very sound of those words, “Ayran race” still sends shivers down my spine.  My gut reaction to those words is to picture the cruelest monster ever seen in my lifetime: Adolf Hilter.  As twisted as Hitler’s dream of uniting Germany became, he’d based it upon a long-held theory that the Ayrans, from whom the Germans were said to descend, were a race of super beings.  Thus did this fiend seek to purge his nation of the Jewish people who held no claim to Ayran ancestry.


The world waged a long and horrific war predicated upon the theory of the Ayran race!  So, who were the Ayrans?  Or rather, who did they become?


The theory in question states that more than 18,000,000 years ago, the progenitors of the Aryans colonized Planet Earth.  Little is known about them, other than the facts that they possessed a higher level of intelligence and conscience than mere mortals.  Described as giants and thought at first to be “fallen angels,” they were also much taller than human beings.   To the earth — the Middle East, to be exact — the Ayrans brought their culture, intellect, and superior genetics as well as a root language.


The Ayrans are attributed with the design and construction of The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.  These encompassed the Great Pyramid of Giza, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Statue of Zeus at Olympia, the Temple of Athena at Euphesus, the Mausoleum of Mausollos at Halicarnassus, the Collossus of Rhodes, and the Lighthouse of Alexandria.  Of these ancient wonders, only one remains standing: the Great Pyramid.  Because no one, to this very day, can truly explain how mere mortals built such fantastic structures, our ancient ancestors deemed them the work of super beings who came down from the sky (what we would call them “aliens” today). 


And if you think that this is nothing but legend, you’d best think twice.  Not very long ago, the Japanese assigned a team of most gifted mathematicians and engineers to recreate the Great Pyramid.  The team was constrained to use the same materials found in the Great Pyramid itself, as well as the tools available at the time that the original edifice was built.  And yet, the team failed.  The spaces between the blocks in their pyramid were too wide.  No matter what they did, they not could reduce those tolerances down to that of the original structure!


As gifted as they were, the aliens who built the Great Pyramid and the remaining six Wonders were not snobs.  They were said to have assimilated with the peoples of the ancient world, including the Semites, the Aegeans, the Egyptians, and even the Hindus and the Buddhists.  I mean that word “assimilated” in the broadest sense of the term.  I mean that these super beings mated with humans to produce a diluted gene pool: a fact that maddened Hitler enough to exterminate 6 million people of the Jewish faith along with 3 million Christians, mostly Italians and Greeks!


Long before the Great Pyramid was erected, however, and long before the Ayrans and their common language had spread out into Southwestern Europe and South America, the Bible infers that they were present from the beginning of time upon our planet.  They may be traced as far back as our earliest ancestors, as cited in the Book of Genesis.  Referring to this super race of giants as “the Nephilim,” Genesis — with boldfacing by me — states:


1 When men began to increase in number on the earth and daughters were born to them, 2 the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful, and they married any of them they chose. 3 Then the Lord said, “My Spirit will not contend with man forever, for he is mortal; his days will be a hundred and twenty years.”   4 The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.


Fast forwarding to the time of Moses’ search for the Promised Land, the Bible’s Book of Numbers tells us:


31 But the men who had gone up with him [Moses] said, “We can’t attack those people; they are stronger than we are.” 32 And they spread among the Israelites a bad report about the land they had explored. They said, “The land we explored devours those living in it. All the people we saw there are of great size.  33We saw the Nephilim there (the descendants of Anak come from the Nephilim).  We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them.”


Inferences from the Book of Numbers suggest that if the Ayrans were that superior to Moses’ people, they must have conquered them at one point, or at the very least, mated with them to produce a race of half-supermen and half-human.  According to the Bible, then, we are all descended from aliens!


As mankind allegedly progressed into and beyond the New Testament, it altered its notion of God, creating new religions as well as new ways of perceiving the Creator.  Two of these were called Theosophy and Ariosophy: interconnected schools of thought-cum-spirituality that explained the origin and modus operandi of the Ayran race.


Founded by Madam Helena Blavatsky at the end of the 19th century (see http://www.writeonnewjersey.com/2009/10/seances-psychics-and-ghost-hunters-smoke-and-mirrors-or-the-real-deal/), the Theosophical movement held that the human race descended from a series of seven Root Races, varying in skin color but of the same stock.  The Original Root Race hailed from a single progenitor.  Said to have lived 18,000,000 years ago, oddly enough, he was also thought to have lived 850,000 years ago, with the latter timeframe coinciding with the sinking of the great continent of Atlantis.


Madam B. also connected physical racial characteristics with spiritual attributes. She noted that idols and their worship had died with the Fourth Race, but had been restored gradually by survivors of hybrid races of that Fourth Race.   By “hybrid,” I assume she meant descents of those whose parents were one half alien and one-half human – in other words, the Nephilim.  This self-professed medium also further concluded that the Monads — the inferior races of the world — would ultimately be eradicated over time as each new Aryan race was born.  Kind of hard to do, I think, if they were still bedding us poor, inferior humans!


The philosophy of Ariosophy postulates that Teutonic or Nordic people were superior to all races.  This was based, perhaps, upon the Theosophical notion that these peoples were the most recent sub-race of the Aryan root. Guido Von List and Lanz Von Liebenfels took hold of Madam Blavatsky’s hypotheses, churning them up with nationalism and fascism to cough up that most disastrous result, the Nazi ideology.  Under Hitler’s reign of terror, Hienrich Himmler was chosen to eradicate “inferior races” through genetics and eugenics, with the objective to reengineer the German people as the Aryan super-race.


In the late 19th and 20th centuries, the celebrated science fiction author H.G. Wells wrote a best selling book in which he blended the theory of the Aryans with actual events in history.  Published in 1920, “The Outline of History” suggested that Aryans subjugated the entire ancient world nestled in the Mesopotamia, the so-called Cradle of Civilization. This Cradle, now known as the Middle East, housed the Semitic, Aegean, and Egyptian peoples.  Hmmm.  Since the Egyptians still seem to be quite healthy and the Aegeans may be modern-day Greeks, they are also, if these suppositions are correct, the descendants of aliens … the kind from outer space, not south of our border!  Another noted science fiction writer, Poul Anderson (1926- 2001), penned many novels using the term Aryan to describe a race of people who would lead in interstellar travel and colonize habitable planets. 


Considering the number of science fiction short stories, novels, TV series, and blockbuster films centering around superior races that come to earth from far off planets, one must wonder if aliens are a case of “What came first, the chicken or the egg?” or perhaps “Does life imitate art?” Including the ever-enduring Star Trek TV series and Hollywood films, many of these tales revolve around the superior races bringing us advanced technology (think: the Great Pyramid, for example) as well as the caveat to “shape up or ship out” off the planet.


Before the twenty-first century was over, America had landed men on the Moon and built a space station orbiting the earth, along with other satellites and the Hubbell telescope.  President Ronald Reagan stole George Lucas’ title of his hit movies to bring us Star Wars as a way of life, not sci-fi.   Our next, logical step would be to build a spaceship with the capabilities of The Enterprise, whose warp speeds made intergalactic travel possible, including communion with aliens.  


But maybe we don’t need the warp drive.  Maybe we don’t need to go to the aliens.  Maybe they have come to us.  Maybe they are already here.  Maybe the UFO’s sighted and photographed for decades, hovering ominously and mysteriously in our skies are evidence of that.  And, maybe when we gaze into our mirrors, we are seeing a cross between mere humans and other worldly super beings.


It gives one pause for thought.  It gives one the chills.   For if the Mayan Calendar and associated prophesies are correct, are the Ayrans out to accomplish, on a global scale, what Hitler could not?  Will we all become obsolete in favor of a totally new super race?  Will we become the slaves of that super race?  Or, will we become that sci-fi delicacy, Soylent Green — nothing more than items on a menu or food products on a shelf?  And should we mere mortals, whose days seem to be numbered upon this planet, be partying like it’s 1999? 

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