h2g2 Galactic Edition

The following drivel is intended for entertainment purposes ONLY.
The management strongly advise all readers to ignore any door-to-door solicitations on this subject.
You have been warned.

 h2g2: The Galactic Edition, or, What to Do When We're Totally Harmless

A lot of people have been thinking about heaven in the last few weeks. The first group were thinking about how they'd go there. The second group worried that they wouldn't. The third group had decided that if the first group were going, they'd rather not, since the first group were spoilsports and it wouldn't be any fun if they were there, anyway. They probably thought the first group were like Groucho Marx, and shouldn't want to belong to any club that would have them as members.

Be that as it may, I was, as usual, thinking about something completely different. I was wondering for the umpteenth time what heaven would be like.
Now, I figure that if the church folks get their kind of heaven, the rest of us – by which I mean those of us who don't groove on Christian Rock, or don't think Gay Pride is a bad thing – should get one we can enjoy. I believe this will be the case. I also believe that it will be a world in which the evil that is in this one simply can't happen. I think it's a world with the safeties on. Of course, there's the rub: since most of what everybody wants to do annoys their neighbours – after all, that's why they do it – a lot of people will be frustrated in heaven.

What Colour Are Your Spaceships?

As we all know by now, I guess, the world singularly failed to end on 21 May, 2011. Most people were glad.

I think Mr Harold Camping, the California engineer who started the rumour, was probably disappointed. I'm sure he'll come up with a new calculation soon. All we can do is wish him better luck next time, and recommend that he remember to carry the ones. Of course, if he ever gets in touch with the German Phantom Time theorists, we'll never hear the end of it.

I first consulted with seers on the subject of the eschaton back in the mid-70s. It was a heady time, when people seriously considered the famous saying:

And it shall come to pass afterward, [that] I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions.– Joel 2:28

The fact that a lot of the young men seeing visions were doing so because they didn't pay attention when their mothers warned them about picking up toadstools is another issue. Far out, man.

How Tight Is Your Tinfoil Hat?

con·spir·a·cy Noun
1. A secret plan by a group to do something unlawful or harmful.

the·o·ry Noun
1. A supposition or a system of ideas intended to explain something, esp. one based on general principles independent of the thing to be explained: "Darwin's theory of evolution".

con·spir·a·cy the·o·ry Noun
1. A belief that some covert but influential organization is responsible for an unexplained event.

par·a·noi·a Noun
1. A mental condition characterized by delusions of persecution, unwarranted jealousy, or exaggerated self-importance, typically worked into an organized system.

All definitions above courtesy of Merriam Webster. They provide these free on the internet, which is why we're using them instead of the classier OED. It's not post-colonial bolshiness. Really.

Quick, Henry, the Anti-Twit!

The authors are responding to the Post Writing Challenge of advertising the un-advertisable. As usual, they paid no attention to the instructions. (So what else is new?)
As usual, the results are gratifying. Rules be darned.
As usual, we repeat the instructions – not because anybody pays attention to them – but just as a general reference.

Write, compose, draw or even film an ad. But – and here's the kicker – it has to be something you can't BUY. Something intangible but necessary, such as peace, math ability, or a decent sense of humour. You may OFFER TO SELL this commodity, but only in an impractical way. Take your payment in smileys, hugs, or guru sweat-equity, whatever.

For the original on which this no-doubt 'power' ad campaign is based, see the genius work of Theodore Geisel (before he became Dr Seuss). We are judicious thieves. – DG

And now…

Dream a Little Dream

'In general,' I commented to Elektra the other day, 'I don't approve of this over-emphasis on directed dreaming.'

Elektra, being Elektra, didn't ask what brought this on, merely replied, 'Um.'

'Now I can understand,' I persisted, 'that directed dreaming is a useful technique when you're plagued by recurrent nightmares, or dreams about defending your thesis in the nude, or whatever. It's good to get that sort of thing out of the way.'

Elektra commented, 'Um.' I went on.

'But directed dreaming misses the real purpose of dreaming – just like all that competitive dreaming they keep doing on the h2g2 journals, you know, where they try to see who has the most detail, or the weirdest premise, or who met the most famous person while asleep…' I glanced at Elektra, who said nothing. Thus encouraged, I warmed to my topic. 'The real purpose of the dream, it seems to me, is to let your unconscious mind tell you what it's thinking. Not to collect hypnagogic autographs. How can it do that if you keep kibitzing?'

At this point, Elektra had had enough, and changed the subject to 'What do you want for supper?' I knew why.

She was afraid I'd remind her of the 'dream contest' we had a few decades ago. I probably would have, too.

True Believers

Isn't it amazing how clever we all are these days? Don't we feel absurdly sorry for those who came before us? Isn't it a shame those people back in the year [fill in blank] didn't have our advantages – such as hot-and-cold running water, really cool cars, and the benefit of all worldly wisdom via the internet?

Why, you just have to pity those ancients back in the Pleistocene/1st Century BCE/1950s. They just didn't know they were in the world, as my grandmother used to say.

Stop laughing, and I'll tell you what I'm on about.

Turn on the Camcorders, We Surrender

"And can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France?"
– Henry V
"Quick!" exclaimed Elektra. "I think I saw Sherman go around that corner."

It is spring – and a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of...

...re-enactment. (Wash your mind out.) In the US of A ("one nation, indivisible", they put that in back in 1930 just to spite us Southerners) re-enactment means one thing: Do you prefer blue or grey?

We could tell who had the upper hand this weekend over at the Bennett Place. The Yankees had snagged all the shade, leaving the Rebs to drill in the hot sun.