Space Junk

Mars is nothing like you'd expect it to be if you never got past 1950's sci-fi movies, like me. In fact, I don't give a shit that life as we know it could end on December 21, 2012. As far as I'm concerned, life as I knew it ended on December 31, 1959.

Man, I wish it was 1950 again. I wish I could put on a spacesuit and walk over to a great big silver rocket that's waiting on it's big silver fins just to blast off and take me back to good old Earth. But not the Earth of the new millennium. Not an Earth where some techno-geek can steal the S.O.S. videos I risked my sorry neck for, just so he could display them on the World Wide Web as "junk". Junk, my ass. This is the real world out here.

That's right, some "comedian" back on Earth put all my videos on a dopey website called Junk TV. When I stumbled upon that website one day not too long ago, it really pissed me off. Pissed me right off.

Junk TV

You know, I made those Mars Broadcasts with no skills whatsoever and, basically no tools. Unless you call an old Commodore 64 PC with vintage dial-up Internet access, a broken stick mike that I had to tape together and a web cam that looks like it was made by Fisher-Price. But, what the hell, this isn't the Mars in the 1950's sci-fi movies. There are no Martians here. Just homeless bums like me, mostly from, L.A. and New York, and a handful of prison guards who are Reptilians and Grays, which is like being babysat by a bunch of bad-ass bugs.

But, what the hell should I care if some opportunistic Internet pirate stole my videos and made a name for himself out of them? Maybe I should thank him for putting all my videos in one place instead of making you video hound dogs root around my blog and dig for them. Still, if I could get back to Earth, a certain indie author I know would have his butt in a wringer so tight he'd have to dial 9-1-1 to break wind.

Pooped and PO'd

That's right, I'm pooped and PO'd. Tired and ticked off. I'm a frazzled Freddy from blogging and making video SOS messages that not only go unnoticed by the people who matter, they get snatched by the people who don't. Internet pirates.

Cripes, I don't even know why I warmed up the old Commodore 64 today. No use checking the AOL TV listings. We don't have TV on Mars and, if we did, it would probably be even worse than the crap they consume by the bucketful back on Earth. No, come to think of it, nothing could top American television for filth and decadence and commercial overkill. Mars TV would be a big step up, even if all we had were reruns of old Nazi-Martian sitcoms like Love That Bunny, starring Hermann Goering as Bunny Malloy, the cross-dressing heartbreaker from Berlin. Or encores of the made-for-Nazi-TV movie "Days of Whine and Poses" (as I mentioned in an earlier post) starring Mr. Goering again as Ms. Malloy and Mr. Adolph Hitler, himself, as a dictator enduring a mid-life crisis as well as a full-blown identity crisis. Yep, even that extreme excrement would surpass in quality this year's prime-time lineup back on Earth.

But I'm not here today to talk about kinky Krauts from The Third Reich. I'm here to announce that, as long as my Mars Broadcasts can be downloaded using Real Player's "Download Video" feature, I'll never risk my flabby neck to make another one. Real Player now joins my ever-growing list of "bottom feeders", along with certain insurance companies and major credit card companies in the good ol' USA, which is rapidly becoming "the bad ol' USA" because of criminal corporate misconduct. Like raising the price of a gallon of gasoline by 30 cents just because major holidays are approaching. Insufferable rat bastards.

And the next thing I need to get off my bony chest, besides telling everybody that it will be a warm day on Mars before I fire up Windows Movie Maker again, is that I realize that it doesn't matter what I write on this blog because, apparently, people are only interested in my video broadcasts. Um, hmm, that's right. To the tune that they now appear on a website that caters to creeps who like dirty chat rooms and filthy ads. May their own karma be their eternal judge.

So, as long as it doesn't matter what the hell I write about on this blog, I may as well post anything at all. Any damn thing at all. Try this:

"Up your ass with a blade of grass."

Or this:

"Up your nose with a rubber hose."

Or, I could type out the lyrics to a ridiculous school boy ditty from the early 20th Century:

Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!
Teacher hit me with a ruler!
I hit her on the bean
With a rotten tangerine
And her teeth came marching out!

I could even quote from the Wild Man Fischer song, Merry Go Round:

"Merry-go! Merry-go! Merry-go-round!
Oooo, oooo, oooo!
Merry-go! Merry-go! Merry-go round!"

And then quote from another Wild Man Fischer song, Monkeys VS Donkeys:

"Monkeys versus donkeys!
Monkeys versus donkeys!
Monkeys versus donkeys!"

And no one would know the goddamn difference because, if there are no videos to steal on this post, there's nothing for them to look at. They like TV and that's what a video is. Couch potato shit for Web potatoes. That's right, most people would rather watch a screen than read anything, just like they'd rather steal than make their own stuff or poke fun rather than create. Hell, I'd take a picture of myself mooning the entire solar system but, sure as hell, someone would just copy and paste that image on some trashy website that appears to be an astronomy website in the Google Search results.

Nooo, thank you. I'd rather be chased all around the underground ruins of Cydonia by Reptilians who have ray guns as big as Super Soakers. At least those big-ass, biped lizards have a legitimate reason for wanting my ass.