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Monday, May 28, 2007

Flying Sauce

I have spent some little time in New Mexico, less in Arizona and Nevada. These are the hot states. Elsewhere in the world this sort of landscape produces Darfur, Senegal, Somalia and Afghanistan. Here we get The Las Vegas Playground, The Santa Fe Artist's Colony and Area 54. The latter makes me think of a correlation I've noticed. Flying saucers and bolo ties. The real pros in the saucer business, and we've all seen them on TV are invariably white, late middle aged, residents of the hot states and wear bolo ties. We have no choice on our ethnicity or age, and everyone has to live somewhere, but bolo ties? Where did that come from? A rock hung around a guy's neck by a lanyard. Forced on a kid, such neckwear could be deemed child abuse. It would certainly get your ass kicked in New York. Hell, it would get your ass kicked in Dallas.

What I can say without reservation is that belief in alien visitors, and I don't mean the little brown guys outside mowing your lawn, goes hand in hand with bolo ties. As silly as bolo ties may look, to think that extra terrestrial aliens are sneaking around Earth probing rural rubes and abducting under-stimulated housewives is transcendentally silly. We're talking Monty Python "Find the Fish" silly. I won't go on about the size of our local galaxy except to say nobody is taking tours between planetary systems unless we are seriously wrong about basic physics. I'm as big a science fiction fan as most of my peer group. I'd love for there to be a warp drive, or even the possibility of FTL travel, but it just ain't happening. Nobody is visiting. All of which brings us back to those damn bolo ties and UFOs. Does belief in the impossible require a talisman or uniform? Do all creationists have little jesus fish on their bumpers? Do priests derive some communion with the infinite via those clerical collars? I think it's sort of like a club or gang sign, and the bolo is the mystic mark of the UFOlogist. I appreciate all the signs. I know who to avoid if the signs are there. I would appreciate it if the following folk would adopt some singular garb or accouterment that identify them from a goodly distance;
1. Amway reps. Argh! these folk will pretend to be having a perfectly normal conversation, and fifteen minutes in will be offering you a unique business opportunity.
2. Missionaries, both professional and amateur. The guy that comes to your door selling vacuum cleaners isn't out to discuss vacuum cleaners. He is out to sell, and doesn't give a damn what you think as long as the deal is closed. There is no discussing religion with a missionary. All you can do is interrupt their sales pitch.

If anyone really wants me to convert to their belief system, I want cash, and lots of it. Vegetarianism will cost about ten grand, Christianity will cost north of a hundred thousand, depending on the sect. Scientology will run a cool million.

I think I'm going to go shopping for bolo ties.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

So glad to find this blog. Your writing is clever, biting, timely and fresh. I found you by reading your letter to Salon re the "Creation" museum. P T Barnum was certainly right.

Charly said...

I see our discussions have you questioning all sorts of beliefs and practices. That gun points both ways.