Duffy Prendergast's Blog: Mars day 1, page 2
November 11, 2014
Mars Day 12: A Dog to Wag
You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you. I was hunkered down in my war-room, nose to the snow, when Ablo shouted down with the most wonderfully Ironic news. We are on the brink of war! Just a few short hours after I built my war room, I will need to make use of it. It may need a few improvements though.
Do you realize what this means?
That’s right Quinn, grab a leash…we’ve got a dog to wag! The timing couldn't have been more perfect. I was on the verge of being thrown out of my own home, my political career in tatters before it had actually begun, and along comes the most wonderful and improbable distraction possible. A war! Can you think of anything other than war that could simultaneously pull a community together and save a presidency at the same time?
Well, it isn't quite a war yet, but it soon will be if I have anything to do with it.
Ablo, come in here please. Ablo, my boy, tell me, what is the cause of this war?
“I don’t know all of the facts, but it seems that the blue Martians from the country of Afar…”
You don’t say, there are blue Martians? Are there any other colors?
“No, just our little melting pot, and then the Afarians…you see the Afarians aren’t buying into the whole procreation/flatulence concept. Some of the red Martians got wind of the, or rather there was a particular odor missing from their Afarian wind, and so there you have it. They refuse to contribute to the climate change efforts despite the obvious conclusions of our scientists.”
Have we found any evidence of their noncompliance yet?
“No, but then we haven’t been able to cross the border into Afar to investigate.”
Tell me Ablo, do you think that if we were to invade Afar, that we’d find such evidence? Do you think that we’d find the WMC’s we’d need to press our case?
“The WMC’s sir…I don’t know what you mean.”
I mean, Ablo, do you think that the Afarians are hiding Weapons of Mass Contraception?
“Weapons of Mass Contraception sir?”
Prophylactics, Ablo, little rubber things that wrap around the talliwacker and get in the way of reproduction! Do you think that they might be hiding mass quantities of rubbers to counter the planet’s efforts to stem global cooling. Because, Ablo, the mere suspicion of the Afarians hiding WMC’s would be cause for invasion….unless of course they permitted us to go in and look for ourselves.
“They could be hiding them sir, perhaps even in plain sight...like in drugstores for instance, but the Afarians are very territorial. I’m afraid they won’t permit our inspectors to touch foot on their soil.”
Well then, Ablo, we shall have our war.
“But sir, lives will be lost. Innocent lives. The lives of our troops. Are your sure about waging war.”
Ablo, how else are we to insure a tropical climate for our children. The Afarians are thwarting the planet’s efforts to save itself from permanent winter. Think of the frostbite; think of the chills; think of the unending cold and flu season; think of the children man!
“The children sir?”
Yes, Ablo, the unborn children. I come from a religion that proclaims that life is precious. So precious, in fact, that no device or method, other than abstinence or rythom, is permitted to hinder impregnation. It’s a sin, Ablo, A sin. The Afarians must be stopped at all cost.
“Yes sir. Then I suppose it shall be War.”
To the war-room Ablo!
“Sir?”
To the war-room!
“But it’s just a hole in the ground.”
Well then, to the hole!
“I’ll get a crew over here right away to excavate a war room sir.”
Okay then, yes, that’s even better.
Looks like I have a war to plan. Time to leave you good folks. And may the blue-bloods flow! I mean the Afarian blood. Whatever!
Do you realize what this means?
That’s right Quinn, grab a leash…we’ve got a dog to wag! The timing couldn't have been more perfect. I was on the verge of being thrown out of my own home, my political career in tatters before it had actually begun, and along comes the most wonderful and improbable distraction possible. A war! Can you think of anything other than war that could simultaneously pull a community together and save a presidency at the same time?
Well, it isn't quite a war yet, but it soon will be if I have anything to do with it.
Ablo, come in here please. Ablo, my boy, tell me, what is the cause of this war?
“I don’t know all of the facts, but it seems that the blue Martians from the country of Afar…”
You don’t say, there are blue Martians? Are there any other colors?
“No, just our little melting pot, and then the Afarians…you see the Afarians aren’t buying into the whole procreation/flatulence concept. Some of the red Martians got wind of the, or rather there was a particular odor missing from their Afarian wind, and so there you have it. They refuse to contribute to the climate change efforts despite the obvious conclusions of our scientists.”
Have we found any evidence of their noncompliance yet?
“No, but then we haven’t been able to cross the border into Afar to investigate.”
Tell me Ablo, do you think that if we were to invade Afar, that we’d find such evidence? Do you think that we’d find the WMC’s we’d need to press our case?
“The WMC’s sir…I don’t know what you mean.”
I mean, Ablo, do you think that the Afarians are hiding Weapons of Mass Contraception?
“Weapons of Mass Contraception sir?”
Prophylactics, Ablo, little rubber things that wrap around the talliwacker and get in the way of reproduction! Do you think that they might be hiding mass quantities of rubbers to counter the planet’s efforts to stem global cooling. Because, Ablo, the mere suspicion of the Afarians hiding WMC’s would be cause for invasion….unless of course they permitted us to go in and look for ourselves.
“They could be hiding them sir, perhaps even in plain sight...like in drugstores for instance, but the Afarians are very territorial. I’m afraid they won’t permit our inspectors to touch foot on their soil.”
Well then, Ablo, we shall have our war.
“But sir, lives will be lost. Innocent lives. The lives of our troops. Are your sure about waging war.”
Ablo, how else are we to insure a tropical climate for our children. The Afarians are thwarting the planet’s efforts to save itself from permanent winter. Think of the frostbite; think of the chills; think of the unending cold and flu season; think of the children man!
“The children sir?”
Yes, Ablo, the unborn children. I come from a religion that proclaims that life is precious. So precious, in fact, that no device or method, other than abstinence or rythom, is permitted to hinder impregnation. It’s a sin, Ablo, A sin. The Afarians must be stopped at all cost.
“Yes sir. Then I suppose it shall be War.”
To the war-room Ablo!
“Sir?”
To the war-room!
“But it’s just a hole in the ground.”
Well then, to the hole!
“I’ll get a crew over here right away to excavate a war room sir.”
Okay then, yes, that’s even better.
Looks like I have a war to plan. Time to leave you good folks. And may the blue-bloods flow! I mean the Afarian blood. Whatever!
Mars day 13: Absolution, absolutely!
As you are all aware, I am saddened at the prospect that we may have to go to war. War, is of course, an option of last resort. We must appear to consider all other options before we attack those little blue bastards who are thwarting our climate change efforts. So we’ll be having a mass to pray for peace before we attack the enemy.
Before going to mass, Ablo, I must receive absolution. Do you know of a priest close by who can give me absolution before I go to mass?
“A priest?”
Yes, a religious person who can forgive me my sins and absolve me of my crimes so that I can still get into heaven when I die, no matter what I do or what I've done! I need to confess to a priest what I’m about to do. I need some holy water!
“No sir, I don’t know of a holy person. But there is a pub close by.”
A pub? At a time like this, you suggest we go to a pub?
“Besides wine, they have beer and whiskey.”
Have the spirits been blessed?
“I don’t know if they've been blessed, but the whiskey has been distilled and the beer has been fermented.”
Close enough Ablo. Let’s go drink some absolution and tell our sins to the bartender.
I don’t suppose there is a whole lot of difference, anyway, between a priest and a bartender. Either way, you have to leave a tip in the collection box. Oh, of course a bartender isn’t ordained, and he probably doesn’t get his rocks off playing with little boys tallywackers, but he knows how to make you feel better about your sins. And even though they both give penance, a priest will make you say a boat-load of Our-Fathers and Hail-Mary’s, a bartender will only make you drink until you barf.
“So we’re going to the pub then?”
Yes, to the pub. We’ll go to mass afterwards. How far away is the church?”
“We don’t have churches.”
Damn! Looks like we’ll have to hold our service at the pub then.
At The Pub
Barkeep, you’re not by chance an ordained minister?
“Sir?”
Never mind, we’ll start with two shots of absolution and two beer chasers.
“That’ll be twenty-seven dollars.”
TWENTY-SEVEN DOLLARS! Are you nuts?
“Sorry, the beer and whisky only come to five and twenty, the rest is due to the new tax.”
I'm the politician who passed the tax into law...so you see...all you get from me is the five and twenty. Now let me tell you you my sins and you can pour me some more absolution. Then I can get on with this damned cursed war.
What a shame. No choice really.
Before going to mass, Ablo, I must receive absolution. Do you know of a priest close by who can give me absolution before I go to mass?
“A priest?”
Yes, a religious person who can forgive me my sins and absolve me of my crimes so that I can still get into heaven when I die, no matter what I do or what I've done! I need to confess to a priest what I’m about to do. I need some holy water!
“No sir, I don’t know of a holy person. But there is a pub close by.”
A pub? At a time like this, you suggest we go to a pub?
“Besides wine, they have beer and whiskey.”
Have the spirits been blessed?
“I don’t know if they've been blessed, but the whiskey has been distilled and the beer has been fermented.”
Close enough Ablo. Let’s go drink some absolution and tell our sins to the bartender.
I don’t suppose there is a whole lot of difference, anyway, between a priest and a bartender. Either way, you have to leave a tip in the collection box. Oh, of course a bartender isn’t ordained, and he probably doesn’t get his rocks off playing with little boys tallywackers, but he knows how to make you feel better about your sins. And even though they both give penance, a priest will make you say a boat-load of Our-Fathers and Hail-Mary’s, a bartender will only make you drink until you barf.
“So we’re going to the pub then?”
Yes, to the pub. We’ll go to mass afterwards. How far away is the church?”
“We don’t have churches.”
Damn! Looks like we’ll have to hold our service at the pub then.
At The Pub
Barkeep, you’re not by chance an ordained minister?
“Sir?”
Never mind, we’ll start with two shots of absolution and two beer chasers.
“That’ll be twenty-seven dollars.”
TWENTY-SEVEN DOLLARS! Are you nuts?
“Sorry, the beer and whisky only come to five and twenty, the rest is due to the new tax.”
I'm the politician who passed the tax into law...so you see...all you get from me is the five and twenty. Now let me tell you you my sins and you can pour me some more absolution. Then I can get on with this damned cursed war.
What a shame. No choice really.
Mars Day 14: Monicolointzgee
Ablo, I’ve only been walking around on your planet for two weeks. Isn’t it amazing what one can accomplish in such a short time?
“Sir?”
Just think about it. When I arrived, you people were still struggling with the whole global cooling issue.
“Yes sir, you’re right, would you like me to shovel the driveway? It seems to have snowed a few more feet last night?”
No, Ablo, that can wait, but can you turn up the thermostat, it’s freezing in here.
“I know, the temperature outside is nineteen degrees below zero.”
That’s not so bad when you think about it. It gets colder than that during winter in Minnesota.
“Its summer here sir.”
No need to quibble Ablo. You do see my point though. Before I arrived you didn’t have a government to tell you what was good for you. You had an inadequate tax system. You hadn’t the faintest idea that you were supposed to be prejudiced and you certainly didn’t know how important it was to force your enemies into compliance.
“No sir, there hadn’t been a threat of war in over two thousand years sir.”
Speaking of war Ablo, how are our troops fairing? Do they have the necessities they need?
“Yes sir. Each man is equipped with a set of solar powered thermo underwear designed to keep them comfortable down to fifty degrees below zero. They have warm gloves. The supply lines are strong so they’ve got plenty of potatoes and water. I think they’ll be fine.”
That’s not what I’m talking about Ablo. Do they have howitzer cannons? Abrams tanks? Drones capable of firing laser guided missiles through the window of an enemy combatant’s bedroom in the middle of protected fornication? Do they have grenades and bayonets and M-16 rifles?
“No sir.”
No! What do you mean no? How can they conquer the enemy and find the WMC’s if they don’t have weapons?
“They have snowballs sir.”
Very good Ablo, this is some kind of Martian secret weapon…this “snowball”?
“If you say so sir. They’ve also got very bad gas.”
Germ warfare. Nerve agents. Blood agents. Very good Ablo. Plausible deniability in case the shit hits the fan. I’m proud of you Ablo. You’re a quick study.
“Sir.”
Yes.
“When I said they have gas, I meant that all they’ve had to eat since they were sent to the front is potatoes and most of them have terrible gas cramps.”
But they do have these “snowballs” you spoke of, right?
“Yes sir.”
I can’t wait to see these “snowballs” in action! Do they have plenty of ammunition for these “snowballs”?
“I already told you sir, it snowed heavily last night.”
Ablo, I want you to get on the horn and order a barrage of these “snowballs” on a prophylactic factory our intelligence agency has discovered just across the border.
“Sir, that’s an aspirin factory.”
Either way, we need to hit it right away, so that they know that we mean business.
“Yes sir.”
Oh, and one more thing Ablo. I’m going to need a pretty young intern. And I want her to wear a blue summer dress. Have her report to the oval office immediately.
“A summer dress sir? But it’s cold sir. But yes sir. There’s a pretty brunette who’s been asking for work sir. I’ll get her right away.”
That’s a blue summer dress. One more thing Ablo, and this is very important. I must also have a box of fine cigars. Just have the intern bring them with her when she comes. By the way, what’s her name?
“Monicolointzgee."
Has a nice ring to it. Send her right away.
“Sir?”
Just think about it. When I arrived, you people were still struggling with the whole global cooling issue.
“Yes sir, you’re right, would you like me to shovel the driveway? It seems to have snowed a few more feet last night?”
No, Ablo, that can wait, but can you turn up the thermostat, it’s freezing in here.
“I know, the temperature outside is nineteen degrees below zero.”
That’s not so bad when you think about it. It gets colder than that during winter in Minnesota.
“Its summer here sir.”
No need to quibble Ablo. You do see my point though. Before I arrived you didn’t have a government to tell you what was good for you. You had an inadequate tax system. You hadn’t the faintest idea that you were supposed to be prejudiced and you certainly didn’t know how important it was to force your enemies into compliance.
“No sir, there hadn’t been a threat of war in over two thousand years sir.”
Speaking of war Ablo, how are our troops fairing? Do they have the necessities they need?
“Yes sir. Each man is equipped with a set of solar powered thermo underwear designed to keep them comfortable down to fifty degrees below zero. They have warm gloves. The supply lines are strong so they’ve got plenty of potatoes and water. I think they’ll be fine.”
That’s not what I’m talking about Ablo. Do they have howitzer cannons? Abrams tanks? Drones capable of firing laser guided missiles through the window of an enemy combatant’s bedroom in the middle of protected fornication? Do they have grenades and bayonets and M-16 rifles?
“No sir.”
No! What do you mean no? How can they conquer the enemy and find the WMC’s if they don’t have weapons?
“They have snowballs sir.”
Very good Ablo, this is some kind of Martian secret weapon…this “snowball”?
“If you say so sir. They’ve also got very bad gas.”
Germ warfare. Nerve agents. Blood agents. Very good Ablo. Plausible deniability in case the shit hits the fan. I’m proud of you Ablo. You’re a quick study.
“Sir.”
Yes.
“When I said they have gas, I meant that all they’ve had to eat since they were sent to the front is potatoes and most of them have terrible gas cramps.”
But they do have these “snowballs” you spoke of, right?
“Yes sir.”
I can’t wait to see these “snowballs” in action! Do they have plenty of ammunition for these “snowballs”?
“I already told you sir, it snowed heavily last night.”
Ablo, I want you to get on the horn and order a barrage of these “snowballs” on a prophylactic factory our intelligence agency has discovered just across the border.
“Sir, that’s an aspirin factory.”
Either way, we need to hit it right away, so that they know that we mean business.
“Yes sir.”
Oh, and one more thing Ablo. I’m going to need a pretty young intern. And I want her to wear a blue summer dress. Have her report to the oval office immediately.
“A summer dress sir? But it’s cold sir. But yes sir. There’s a pretty brunette who’s been asking for work sir. I’ll get her right away.”
That’s a blue summer dress. One more thing Ablo, and this is very important. I must also have a box of fine cigars. Just have the intern bring them with her when she comes. By the way, what’s her name?
“Monicolointzgee."
Has a nice ring to it. Send her right away.
Mars day 15: Knock Knock
Who’s there?
“Monicolointzgee.”
Monicolointzgee who?
“You’re joking, right?”
Come in. Oooohh. Ugh!
“What’s wrong sir?”
Nothing…nothing…Miss Monicolointzgee.
Ablo, can you come in here right away? Over here Ablo, so that I can whisper…so’s miss Monicolointzgee can’t hear us.
“Yes sir.”
Ablo, you said she was pretty. She’s got a bit of a moon-pie face, don’t you think?
“Now that you mention it sir…”
Never mind Ablo, close the door behind you.
Now then Miss Monicolointzgee can you please slide down here under my desk. Very good, now get to work.
“But isn’t this illegal sir?”
What?
“What you’re asking for isn't conducive to procreation. Aren’t we at war with the Blue’s over such behavior?”
That’s alright…I’m a politician. We’re above the ridiculous laws we make. Now there, that’s a good girl. Ooops, got some on your pretty blue dress. We’ll just call that a souvenir. No harm in that is there?
“Not at all Mr. president. I’ll just hang onto this stained dress, and cherish it…until I need it for some unforeseen court appearance.”
And I’m told that you brought me some cigars? What a kind gesture.
“Yes sir. Here they are.”
They’re all sticky. How did they get sticky?
“I’ll have to whisper that part into your ear. Whisper…whisper.”
Ewww…that’s disgusting.
The door bursts open
“Good news sir. We bombed the aspirin factory…er I mean the prophylactic factory as ordered. It was a great success. Several hundred civilian casualties. That’ll teach them to thwart the procreation laws sir!”
No…we can’t have them thwarting the procreation laws can we?
“No sir, we can’t. What’s that on your dress Miss Monicolointzgee?”
“That’s the thing that dreams…I mean wars are made of.”
“What?”
Never mind her. She’s just a blithering intern. You say that the mission was a terrific success. That’s wonderful news Ablo, let’s celebrate.
Have a cigar!
“Monicolointzgee.”
Monicolointzgee who?
“You’re joking, right?”
Come in. Oooohh. Ugh!
“What’s wrong sir?”
Nothing…nothing…Miss Monicolointzgee.
Ablo, can you come in here right away? Over here Ablo, so that I can whisper…so’s miss Monicolointzgee can’t hear us.
“Yes sir.”
Ablo, you said she was pretty. She’s got a bit of a moon-pie face, don’t you think?
“Now that you mention it sir…”
Never mind Ablo, close the door behind you.
Now then Miss Monicolointzgee can you please slide down here under my desk. Very good, now get to work.
“But isn’t this illegal sir?”
What?
“What you’re asking for isn't conducive to procreation. Aren’t we at war with the Blue’s over such behavior?”
That’s alright…I’m a politician. We’re above the ridiculous laws we make. Now there, that’s a good girl. Ooops, got some on your pretty blue dress. We’ll just call that a souvenir. No harm in that is there?
“Not at all Mr. president. I’ll just hang onto this stained dress, and cherish it…until I need it for some unforeseen court appearance.”
And I’m told that you brought me some cigars? What a kind gesture.
“Yes sir. Here they are.”
They’re all sticky. How did they get sticky?
“I’ll have to whisper that part into your ear. Whisper…whisper.”
Ewww…that’s disgusting.
The door bursts open
“Good news sir. We bombed the aspirin factory…er I mean the prophylactic factory as ordered. It was a great success. Several hundred civilian casualties. That’ll teach them to thwart the procreation laws sir!”
No…we can’t have them thwarting the procreation laws can we?
“No sir, we can’t. What’s that on your dress Miss Monicolointzgee?”
“That’s the thing that dreams…I mean wars are made of.”
“What?”
Never mind her. She’s just a blithering intern. You say that the mission was a terrific success. That’s wonderful news Ablo, let’s celebrate.
Have a cigar!
Mars Day 16: Mission accomplished!
This is my first time being on a helicopter Ablo, how about you?
“Me too sir.”
It’s good P.R. to check on the troops. Do a little fly-over. Let them know that you feel their pain…and all that. And speaking of pain, how did you get those sores all over your mouth? Looks like you kissed a hooker on the mouth.
“I don’t know sir, but I wish I had an asprin.”
Look, down their…I see them Ablo, our loyal troops on the deck of that ship. Let’s fly over and give them a wave.
“Yes sir.”
What are those little white things scattered in the water around the boat?
“Those look like the aspirin from the prophylactic factory we destroyed sir.”
Problem solved Ablo. Let’s set this baby down.
On the deck of the ship
I want to thank all of you for a job well done. What I mean to say is…Mission Accomplished!
Cheers and clapping; Whistles!
“So you’re telling us we can all go home to our families then?!”
Cheers and Applause!
No soldier…not exactly.
“So then by ‘Mission accomplished’ you meant that the fighting is over, and we are out of harm’s way?!”
Applause!
Well, no, you both have it wrong, I can’t really say that either…although that could be the case.
“Well then, you meant that we’ve sufficiently damaged the enemy so as to weaken them and rendered them incapable of retaliation?!”
A few soft claps.
No, I meant that you successfully destroyed an aspirin factory and killed a few hundred Afarian civilians.
“You came down here to tell us that?”
No, I came down here because Ablo here needed an aspirin. Ablo did you get your aspirin?
“Yes sir.”
Time to go. Keep up the good work men.
Up in the air again.
Ablo, looks like we left the ship just in time.
“Oh my Gork! They got hit by a torpedo. The ship is sinking!”
But look Ablo, even as they’re sinking, their showing their resolve; their solidarity; their support for me…their commander in chief.
“Why do you say that sir?”
Those who aren’t busy bailing water are holding a single finger up to us in a sort of salute. It’s as if their saying “We’re number one!
“Yes sir, that must be what their saying.”
Let’s take this ship home Ablo. When you get back we’ll pour ourselves some brandy and if you like Ablo, you can have another one of those cigars.
“If it’s alright with you sir, I’ll settle for a shot of penicillin.”
“Me too sir.”
It’s good P.R. to check on the troops. Do a little fly-over. Let them know that you feel their pain…and all that. And speaking of pain, how did you get those sores all over your mouth? Looks like you kissed a hooker on the mouth.
“I don’t know sir, but I wish I had an asprin.”
Look, down their…I see them Ablo, our loyal troops on the deck of that ship. Let’s fly over and give them a wave.
“Yes sir.”
What are those little white things scattered in the water around the boat?
“Those look like the aspirin from the prophylactic factory we destroyed sir.”
Problem solved Ablo. Let’s set this baby down.
On the deck of the ship
I want to thank all of you for a job well done. What I mean to say is…Mission Accomplished!
Cheers and clapping; Whistles!
“So you’re telling us we can all go home to our families then?!”
Cheers and Applause!
No soldier…not exactly.
“So then by ‘Mission accomplished’ you meant that the fighting is over, and we are out of harm’s way?!”
Applause!
Well, no, you both have it wrong, I can’t really say that either…although that could be the case.
“Well then, you meant that we’ve sufficiently damaged the enemy so as to weaken them and rendered them incapable of retaliation?!”
A few soft claps.
No, I meant that you successfully destroyed an aspirin factory and killed a few hundred Afarian civilians.
“You came down here to tell us that?”
No, I came down here because Ablo here needed an aspirin. Ablo did you get your aspirin?
“Yes sir.”
Time to go. Keep up the good work men.
Up in the air again.
Ablo, looks like we left the ship just in time.
“Oh my Gork! They got hit by a torpedo. The ship is sinking!”
But look Ablo, even as they’re sinking, their showing their resolve; their solidarity; their support for me…their commander in chief.
“Why do you say that sir?”
Those who aren’t busy bailing water are holding a single finger up to us in a sort of salute. It’s as if their saying “We’re number one!
“Yes sir, that must be what their saying.”
Let’s take this ship home Ablo. When you get back we’ll pour ourselves some brandy and if you like Ablo, you can have another one of those cigars.
“If it’s alright with you sir, I’ll settle for a shot of penicillin.”
Mars Day 17: Damage control
“Sir, we have an emergency. One of our embassies is under threat of attack.”
Ablo, I’m sleeping. Really, you wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me one of our embassies is under the “Threat of Attack”! For Gork’s Sake, it isn’t even under attack?
“Sorry sir, I just thought you’d want to make some preparations. Maybe put some nearby troops on alert.”
Go get some sleep Ablo.
“What was that all about?”
Go back to sleep Monicolointzgee, it’s nothing really.
Knock Knock
Who’s there?
“Ablo.”
Ablo who?
“Sir, I just thought you’d want to know that that embassy under imminent attack is in Hillary, inside the boarder of Afar. We have ground troops within a few hours that could come and provide cover. We could have helicopters over there in less than an hour…if you want me to make a phone call...”
Ablo…are you going to bug me every ten minutes with this? How many people do we have there anyway, ten?
“Sorry sir, were you sleeping?”
Not that time. But I was Busy. Come back up her Miss Monicolointzgee, I’m no longer in the mood!
“We have eight sir.”
What?
“Eight people at the embassy.”
So you wake me because eight people are under imminent attack?
“Yes sir.”
Goodnight Ablo!
“Goodnight sir.”
Knock Knock
Ablo, if this is about that damned Embassy being under imminent attack again I swear…”
“No sir, it is no longer under imminent attck. Just wanted to ask you, sir...”
You see Ablo, you kept me awake all night for nothing!
“Yes sir.”
Now go get some sleep Ablo.
“Sir.”
What is it Ablo?
“It’s only…sir…well…what should we do with the dead sir?”
What dead Ablo?
“At the embassy in Hillary sir. What should we do with the dead sir?”
What dead Ablo?
Well sir, they’re no longer under imminent attack…they’ve been attacked. Everyone’s dead sir. Should we send troops in to retrieve their corpses sir?”
If it makes you feel better, Ablo, go ahead. But for Gork’s sake. Let me get some sleep!
“Yes sir.”
Oh, and Ablo…in the morning…do me a little favor…put out a press release and tell them how concerned we are, that we’re on top of it, we regret the unavoidable loss of life etc. And…how it isn’t our fault…and so on.
“Yes sir.”
Ablo, You don’t think this will hinder my election bid do you?
Ablo, I’m sleeping. Really, you wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me one of our embassies is under the “Threat of Attack”! For Gork’s Sake, it isn’t even under attack?
“Sorry sir, I just thought you’d want to make some preparations. Maybe put some nearby troops on alert.”
Go get some sleep Ablo.
“What was that all about?”
Go back to sleep Monicolointzgee, it’s nothing really.
Knock Knock
Who’s there?
“Ablo.”
Ablo who?
“Sir, I just thought you’d want to know that that embassy under imminent attack is in Hillary, inside the boarder of Afar. We have ground troops within a few hours that could come and provide cover. We could have helicopters over there in less than an hour…if you want me to make a phone call...”
Ablo…are you going to bug me every ten minutes with this? How many people do we have there anyway, ten?
“Sorry sir, were you sleeping?”
Not that time. But I was Busy. Come back up her Miss Monicolointzgee, I’m no longer in the mood!
“We have eight sir.”
What?
“Eight people at the embassy.”
So you wake me because eight people are under imminent attack?
“Yes sir.”
Goodnight Ablo!
“Goodnight sir.”
Knock Knock
Ablo, if this is about that damned Embassy being under imminent attack again I swear…”
“No sir, it is no longer under imminent attck. Just wanted to ask you, sir...”
You see Ablo, you kept me awake all night for nothing!
“Yes sir.”
Now go get some sleep Ablo.
“Sir.”
What is it Ablo?
“It’s only…sir…well…what should we do with the dead sir?”
What dead Ablo?
“At the embassy in Hillary sir. What should we do with the dead sir?”
What dead Ablo?
Well sir, they’re no longer under imminent attack…they’ve been attacked. Everyone’s dead sir. Should we send troops in to retrieve their corpses sir?”
If it makes you feel better, Ablo, go ahead. But for Gork’s sake. Let me get some sleep!
“Yes sir.”
Oh, and Ablo…in the morning…do me a little favor…put out a press release and tell them how concerned we are, that we’re on top of it, we regret the unavoidable loss of life etc. And…how it isn’t our fault…and so on.
“Yes sir.”
Ablo, You don’t think this will hinder my election bid do you?
Mars day 18: Bring in the Clowns
Ablo, now that we have troops on the ground in Afar, how is our search for the WMC’s coming along?
“No luck so far sir.”
Have they tried the obvious places? Have they looked in the drugstores? Have the checked in nightstand drawers? Inside of men’s wallets?
“Yes sir.”
How about the free-health clinics? How about on the beaches? People like to do it on beaches.
“Yes sir, we’ve checked everywhere we can think of, but all our intelligence operatives have found so far is these little rubber balloons.”
I saw the samples that you left on my desk. They come in all different colors…in packages of one-hundred. They could be prophylactics…if we wanted them to be. Ablo, try one on for size…just to see if they’ll fit.
“Looks a bit painful sir. Besides, if we went after balloons sir, we’d have to arrest every clown in our own country…present company excluded of course sir.”
That’s not a bad idea Ablo, what kind of dirt can we dig up on these clowns.
“Well sir, most of them are former politicians, if that helps.”
That won’t do, Ablo, it would shed a bad light on all politicians. People would start to consider us lower than pimps. No one would trust a word we said. They’d stop believing our campaign promises. They’d wonder how we got rich while in office despite our relatively small salaries. They would consider us hypocrites. Then where would we be? You are wise beyond your years Ablo.
“I do have some good news sir. We have a new deck of playing cards with all of the Afarian leaders faces on them. Would you like to play some Gin Rummy?”
That’s wonderful news Ablo.
“You mean because we can use these cards to track down the enemy’s leaders and persecute and prosecute them?”
No, Ablo, that’s just silly. We already have photographs of them. We don’t need playing cards to identify them. That would just look like transparent propaganda for the war.
“Then what did you mean by ‘That’s wonderful news Ablo?’”
I meant that I didn’t know that you played Gin Rummy. Let’s have ourselves a game.
“What about the WMC’s?”
You know Ablo, I’m starting to wonder if the enemy ever had WMC’s. We may have started this damn war on false pretense. This could take a bit of covering up. Maybe a little propaganda wouldn’t hurt.
Now deal those cards.
“No luck so far sir.”
Have they tried the obvious places? Have they looked in the drugstores? Have the checked in nightstand drawers? Inside of men’s wallets?
“Yes sir.”
How about the free-health clinics? How about on the beaches? People like to do it on beaches.
“Yes sir, we’ve checked everywhere we can think of, but all our intelligence operatives have found so far is these little rubber balloons.”
I saw the samples that you left on my desk. They come in all different colors…in packages of one-hundred. They could be prophylactics…if we wanted them to be. Ablo, try one on for size…just to see if they’ll fit.
“Looks a bit painful sir. Besides, if we went after balloons sir, we’d have to arrest every clown in our own country…present company excluded of course sir.”
That’s not a bad idea Ablo, what kind of dirt can we dig up on these clowns.
“Well sir, most of them are former politicians, if that helps.”
That won’t do, Ablo, it would shed a bad light on all politicians. People would start to consider us lower than pimps. No one would trust a word we said. They’d stop believing our campaign promises. They’d wonder how we got rich while in office despite our relatively small salaries. They would consider us hypocrites. Then where would we be? You are wise beyond your years Ablo.
“I do have some good news sir. We have a new deck of playing cards with all of the Afarian leaders faces on them. Would you like to play some Gin Rummy?”
That’s wonderful news Ablo.
“You mean because we can use these cards to track down the enemy’s leaders and persecute and prosecute them?”
No, Ablo, that’s just silly. We already have photographs of them. We don’t need playing cards to identify them. That would just look like transparent propaganda for the war.
“Then what did you mean by ‘That’s wonderful news Ablo?’”
I meant that I didn’t know that you played Gin Rummy. Let’s have ourselves a game.
“What about the WMC’s?”
You know Ablo, I’m starting to wonder if the enemy ever had WMC’s. We may have started this damn war on false pretense. This could take a bit of covering up. Maybe a little propaganda wouldn’t hurt.
Now deal those cards.
Mars Day 19: Big Brother
“I have wonderful news sir.”
Ablo, you’ve found the WMC’s!
“I’ll let you be the judge sir. We found evidence of a conspiracy to limit procreation. It seems that the Afarians, in a blatant attempt to discourage sex among the Blues, have ordered everyone in Afar to post the pictures of American first ladies on their bedroom walls! I’m talking Nancy Reagan, Barbara Bush, Hillary Clinton and Michelle Obama. I’ve also heard that Nancy Pelosi’s photograph was found in their bedrooms.”
Ablo, Nancy Pelosi is not a former first lady.
“No, but if her face doesn’t count as a Weapon of Mass Contraception, nothing does.”
Anything for the Women Ablo.
“Sure, we found pictures of Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford and, of course this Al Gore Fellow. And there’s this one picture we haven’t been able to identify…do yo recognize him sir?”
Yes, of course, that’s Mick Jagger. He was no politician, but his puss could kill a pair of honeymooner’s mojo!
“What shall we do sir?”
I’ll tell you what we’ll do Ablo, we’ll ban these photographs from the bedrooms of all Martians.
“Doesn’t that smack of censorship though sir?”
Ablo, it’s for the good of the nation. It’s essential to national security. In America, if a law violates the constitution, we simply say it’s “essential to national security” and those fool judges just go along with us.
“It sounds a bit radical to me sir.”
In America we call it creeping socialism. We slowly take away people’s rights so that each generation is born with fewer rights than the last. This way, they won’t know that their missing out on anything. We tell them where they can and cannot smoke, we tell them when they can drink and make things illegal if we don’t like them. We even regulate how large their soft drinks can be in a so-called war against obesity.
“Won’t they just order an extra Coca-Cola if they wish sir?”
Well of course they well, but it’s all about control. You force them to pay into a retirement system which most of them will never collect on, we force them to pay for healthcare that’s inferior to the one they have. You tap their telephones and monitor their email. You put cameras in the sky and watch their every move. You even let the cameras give them speeding tickets. Then you polarize the people, separating them on either the right or the left and you have them so busy trying to take each other’s rights away that they won’t even realize, in the end, that they’ve legislated all of their rights away. In the end, you tax every dime and you “take care of” them from the cradle to the grave.
“It doesn’t sound so bad, being ‘taken care of’ from the cradle to the grave.”
No, Ablo, it isn’t. They did it in the USSR, and that worked out pretty good. They do it in Cuba and China and North Korea, and that seems to be working out pretty good.”
“What do you do to them if they refuse to comply?”
We throw them in jail, Ablo, or we fine them into poverty. We let the doctors prescribe them pain killers until their addicted and then we criminalize the victims, the drug abusers, and throw them in jail. You get those fool icons to support your cause, lifting them up on a kind of pedestal, treating them as if they’re something more than talking heads, and you watch the sheep follow. Actors and actresses are the best for this because people always believe what they see on television.
“Sir, I’ll have our men start taking those pictures down right away.”
Oh, and Ablo, tell the men to be nice about it…we wouldn’t want the people to start thinking that the government is in any way evil. We are, after all, doing it for their own good. And if the government doesn’t know what’s best for them, who does?
"Yes sir, I know, it takes a village."
Ablo, you’ve found the WMC’s!
“I’ll let you be the judge sir. We found evidence of a conspiracy to limit procreation. It seems that the Afarians, in a blatant attempt to discourage sex among the Blues, have ordered everyone in Afar to post the pictures of American first ladies on their bedroom walls! I’m talking Nancy Reagan, Barbara Bush, Hillary Clinton and Michelle Obama. I’ve also heard that Nancy Pelosi’s photograph was found in their bedrooms.”
Ablo, Nancy Pelosi is not a former first lady.
“No, but if her face doesn’t count as a Weapon of Mass Contraception, nothing does.”
Anything for the Women Ablo.
“Sure, we found pictures of Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford and, of course this Al Gore Fellow. And there’s this one picture we haven’t been able to identify…do yo recognize him sir?”
Yes, of course, that’s Mick Jagger. He was no politician, but his puss could kill a pair of honeymooner’s mojo!
“What shall we do sir?”
I’ll tell you what we’ll do Ablo, we’ll ban these photographs from the bedrooms of all Martians.
“Doesn’t that smack of censorship though sir?”
Ablo, it’s for the good of the nation. It’s essential to national security. In America, if a law violates the constitution, we simply say it’s “essential to national security” and those fool judges just go along with us.
“It sounds a bit radical to me sir.”
In America we call it creeping socialism. We slowly take away people’s rights so that each generation is born with fewer rights than the last. This way, they won’t know that their missing out on anything. We tell them where they can and cannot smoke, we tell them when they can drink and make things illegal if we don’t like them. We even regulate how large their soft drinks can be in a so-called war against obesity.
“Won’t they just order an extra Coca-Cola if they wish sir?”
Well of course they well, but it’s all about control. You force them to pay into a retirement system which most of them will never collect on, we force them to pay for healthcare that’s inferior to the one they have. You tap their telephones and monitor their email. You put cameras in the sky and watch their every move. You even let the cameras give them speeding tickets. Then you polarize the people, separating them on either the right or the left and you have them so busy trying to take each other’s rights away that they won’t even realize, in the end, that they’ve legislated all of their rights away. In the end, you tax every dime and you “take care of” them from the cradle to the grave.
“It doesn’t sound so bad, being ‘taken care of’ from the cradle to the grave.”
No, Ablo, it isn’t. They did it in the USSR, and that worked out pretty good. They do it in Cuba and China and North Korea, and that seems to be working out pretty good.”
“What do you do to them if they refuse to comply?”
We throw them in jail, Ablo, or we fine them into poverty. We let the doctors prescribe them pain killers until their addicted and then we criminalize the victims, the drug abusers, and throw them in jail. You get those fool icons to support your cause, lifting them up on a kind of pedestal, treating them as if they’re something more than talking heads, and you watch the sheep follow. Actors and actresses are the best for this because people always believe what they see on television.
“Sir, I’ll have our men start taking those pictures down right away.”
Oh, and Ablo, tell the men to be nice about it…we wouldn’t want the people to start thinking that the government is in any way evil. We are, after all, doing it for their own good. And if the government doesn’t know what’s best for them, who does?
"Yes sir, I know, it takes a village."
Mars Day 20: Cut bait and bale!
Ablo, I’ve changed my mind about this war in Afar. I think we should get out.
“What?”
Yes, Ablo, I think we should get out, and quickly.
“But sir, the Afarians are split on the climate change efforts. It will mean civil war. Innocent lives will be lost. Think of the dead men, women and children caught in the middle…maimed and bleeding, mourning the loss of their loved ones. Perhaps we could withdraw slowly and quietly.”
Oh, Ablo, we all need a civil war now and then…if for no other reason than to cull the heard. The war’s grown unpopular with our people. They’ve grown a bit weary. Besides, it could affect the vote for my allies in congress. Put out a press release and phone the generals. We need to order an immediate withdrawal.
“But won’t that put our troops at risk…letting the enemy know when we’re pulling out…and all of a sudden?”
Ablo, you’ve got a lot to learn yet about politics. What good is an immediate withdrawal if the planet doesn’t get the word. We need to take credit for this incredibly humane act we’re performing. Oh, we may lose a few of those brave lads who volunteered to risk their lives for our safety and the sake of our way of life, but they’ll be awarded posthumous purple hearts that their parents can cherish for the rest of their lives. Why, their families can brag for years how brave their sons were and about how they gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country. Their bravery will inspire future generations to volunteer to be soldiers.
“Well sir, I can tell by your talk of bravery that you must have been a soldier once yourself.”
Hell no. A bit too risky for my blood; anyway, I was off smoking weed and having too good a time to put my life on the line for my country.
“But what if things go wrong sir?”
We can blame any and all negative repercussions on the previous administration.
“Really sir, how long can we get away with that for?”
Hell, Ablo, we can blame everything that goes wrong during our entire presidency on the last administration and it’ll stick for as long as we hold office. Bad economy…the last guy left things worse than we thought. Lost jobs…they made bad policy decisions that damaged our workforce for years.
“Will you get a medal for waging the war sir?”
What a great idea Ablo. Why don’t you talk the generals into awarding me the Iron Cross. I hear that’s a rather prestigious award.
“What?”
Yes, Ablo, I think we should get out, and quickly.
“But sir, the Afarians are split on the climate change efforts. It will mean civil war. Innocent lives will be lost. Think of the dead men, women and children caught in the middle…maimed and bleeding, mourning the loss of their loved ones. Perhaps we could withdraw slowly and quietly.”
Oh, Ablo, we all need a civil war now and then…if for no other reason than to cull the heard. The war’s grown unpopular with our people. They’ve grown a bit weary. Besides, it could affect the vote for my allies in congress. Put out a press release and phone the generals. We need to order an immediate withdrawal.
“But won’t that put our troops at risk…letting the enemy know when we’re pulling out…and all of a sudden?”
Ablo, you’ve got a lot to learn yet about politics. What good is an immediate withdrawal if the planet doesn’t get the word. We need to take credit for this incredibly humane act we’re performing. Oh, we may lose a few of those brave lads who volunteered to risk their lives for our safety and the sake of our way of life, but they’ll be awarded posthumous purple hearts that their parents can cherish for the rest of their lives. Why, their families can brag for years how brave their sons were and about how they gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country. Their bravery will inspire future generations to volunteer to be soldiers.
“Well sir, I can tell by your talk of bravery that you must have been a soldier once yourself.”
Hell no. A bit too risky for my blood; anyway, I was off smoking weed and having too good a time to put my life on the line for my country.
“But what if things go wrong sir?”
We can blame any and all negative repercussions on the previous administration.
“Really sir, how long can we get away with that for?”
Hell, Ablo, we can blame everything that goes wrong during our entire presidency on the last administration and it’ll stick for as long as we hold office. Bad economy…the last guy left things worse than we thought. Lost jobs…they made bad policy decisions that damaged our workforce for years.
“Will you get a medal for waging the war sir?”
What a great idea Ablo. Why don’t you talk the generals into awarding me the Iron Cross. I hear that’s a rather prestigious award.
Mars Day 21: Taming the Shrew
Ablo, I’m glad you talked me into visiting one of our local schools. It makes it look as if I care. Will there be any babies to kiss? That always makes a good impression.
“No sir, this is a High School.”
Never the less there should be some good photo ops. There sure are a lot of cameras pointing at us, we better make this look good. Let’s visit a classroom, shall we?
“Classes havn’t started sir, but we can walk around the school building and check out the facilities.”
Look over there Ablo, by the gymnasium, it’s one of the teachers. He’s lying on his back and fiddling with something! He must be psyching himself up for the day. I want to talk to him.
Excuse me sir, what is it that you’re doing?
“Sir, perhaps we should talk to someone else, this man seems to be…well…busy.”
Nonsense Ablo. Sir, is this some sort of experiment your performing on yourself for the benefit of your class?
“Nope! I’ll be honest, I saw some cute sixteen year old girls in the walkway coming into the building, and I couldn’t resist milking the mongoose while I pictured them naked.”
So you teach Biology then?
“No, I’m greasing the crankshaft. You know…Taming the Shrew!”
So you teach English Literature then?”
“Could you be more dense? I’m popping the cork! Pulling the old crankshaft! Milking the Goat! Are you daft?”
That covers so many different subjects. Ablo, I’ve got it. This old codger must be….a substitute teacher! Damn but I love word games. I’m a crackerjack at Jeopardy you know!
“Sir, I think Mount Aetna here is about to erupt. We need to give this man some privacy…while he prepares for his…lessons.”
Taming the Shrew was one of my favorite books Ablo. What a wonderful teacher he must be. It’s a good thing we do background checks on these guys, otherwise we might accidentally let in all kinds of perverts.
“We can’t have that sir.”
Perverts do make wonderful politicians though!
“No sir, this is a High School.”
Never the less there should be some good photo ops. There sure are a lot of cameras pointing at us, we better make this look good. Let’s visit a classroom, shall we?
“Classes havn’t started sir, but we can walk around the school building and check out the facilities.”
Look over there Ablo, by the gymnasium, it’s one of the teachers. He’s lying on his back and fiddling with something! He must be psyching himself up for the day. I want to talk to him.
Excuse me sir, what is it that you’re doing?
“Sir, perhaps we should talk to someone else, this man seems to be…well…busy.”
Nonsense Ablo. Sir, is this some sort of experiment your performing on yourself for the benefit of your class?
“Nope! I’ll be honest, I saw some cute sixteen year old girls in the walkway coming into the building, and I couldn’t resist milking the mongoose while I pictured them naked.”
So you teach Biology then?
“No, I’m greasing the crankshaft. You know…Taming the Shrew!”
So you teach English Literature then?”
“Could you be more dense? I’m popping the cork! Pulling the old crankshaft! Milking the Goat! Are you daft?”
That covers so many different subjects. Ablo, I’ve got it. This old codger must be….a substitute teacher! Damn but I love word games. I’m a crackerjack at Jeopardy you know!
“Sir, I think Mount Aetna here is about to erupt. We need to give this man some privacy…while he prepares for his…lessons.”
Taming the Shrew was one of my favorite books Ablo. What a wonderful teacher he must be. It’s a good thing we do background checks on these guys, otherwise we might accidentally let in all kinds of perverts.
“We can’t have that sir.”
Perverts do make wonderful politicians though!
Mars day 1
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