SAINTS PRESERVE US

Here Be Monsters

Currently I am thoroughly engrossed in a book called The Universe in Your Hand. The author Cristophe Galfard is a theoretical physicist and a former student of the late Stephen Hawking. There is some prime intellectual pedigree there. Published in 2015 (and so perhaps already out of date in certain parts), the work is a primer on hundreds of years of scientific theories, experiments and empirical findings that are doggedly puzzling together the nature of our reality. From our teensiest nano bits to the vast quilts of spacetime, Galfard explains incredibly complex concepts in plain, elegant language. His analogies are somewhat easy to grasp and a wry, dry wit pervades the book’s 415 pages. When I finish The Universe in Your Hand, I will close it for a moment to reflect and then start it again from the beginning.

Because the human mind is able to traverse the known universe to a relative extent, it follows that synchronicity, a mind-bending concept of unrelated but eerie coincidences, comes into play. Ancient peoples would have blamed the trickster raven or coyote, maybe lesser gods in a pantheon such as Hermes or Loki. August has been that kind of month for me, Lou Reed’s catalogue has proved to be uncomfortably slight succor: ‘When it all gets too much, you turn the TV set on and light a cigarette.’ Me? I sit on the front porch with a beer and inhale the smell of the world burning.

The Flat Earth Society staged a conference in Edmonton two weeks ago. It was revelatory to learn that planet Earth is actually a cosmic dinner plate, or maybe a serving tray suspended in the centre of not just our solar system but everything included on the alien laboratory Petri trivet. Talk about a la carte. Sure there are still five oceans yet only six continents because Antarctica is actually a wall of ice around the rim that keeps us from falling off our precious Wham-O Frisbee. Dear God, now I’m really sweating global warming and climate change, as any rational person would.

It doesn’t matter that the constellations are different in each hemisphere. It doesn’t matter which way water spirals down a drain in relation to the equator. No, a ball-shaped Earth is crazy, an example of mass brain-washing. Proof is in established and documented nefarious precedents including the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, the ultra-secret Bilderberg world government, the CIA-authorized assassination of JFK, the 9/11 inside job, Sandy Hook set-up, and the United Nations concentration camps in the basements of Wal-Mart stores. Every patriot excluded from the elitist ‘deep state’ knows the truth.

Apparently the conspiratorial cancer has so metastasized within the vox populi that honest people are afraid to come forward to croak as ‘Deep Throats,’ act as conduits to the fake news media. They won’t speak. That’s a huge concern because astronauts, airline pilots, astronomers, balloonists, sailors, science teachers and even disgruntled low-level government bureaucrats or contractors could step up, blow whistles and inform the rest of us that our world is really flat. Odds are there should be at least one squealer in such a large and diverse group. Odds are.

Odds are too that humans will act irrationally whatever the lessons of history. Madness is one constant of the human condition. There’s a familiar pattern to civilization extending its boundaries. The first stage is discovery and exploration. Next come the profit seekers eager to exploit a new resource. Economic activity in turn attracts settlers. Eventually, inevitably, the fighting starts.

So why shouldn’t centuries of frequently disgraceful human behaviour culminate with the nadir of Space Force? So it goes. It’s not even a surprise that Tweeterdumbest and his White House advisors are skipping the middle steps, instead leaping from a few decades of manned and remote exploration straight to a war footing by 2020.

Little is known about Space Force in utero. It could be a new branch in the Pentagon’s existing arsenal of Army, Navy, Air Force and Marines. It could be an auxiliary arm of one of them. However, despite the small stuff like logistics, badges, shoulder flashes and uniforms, the American people have been promised by the current administration that Space Force will be staffed by experts in space warfare. There might be a flaw in that premise.

Even if personnel from Area 51 are recruited to serve in Space Force, the likelihood remains that no human being alive or dead has ever engaged in combat in space. I cannot prove this because the United Nations and the Bilderberg have not returned my calls. Still, Sun Tzu did not write a book called The Art of War in Space which means there are no documented space warfare strategies or tactics to study in order to become an expert. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan would make for a good primer even if it is essentially a remake of Run Silent, Run Deep, a gripping film about submarine warfare, a fictional engagement conducted over 70 years ago.

One of the many small pleasures in my life is the simple gift of lying in bed at night and reading a book. The closet door must be shut but I love an open window. I want fresh air and the sounds of rustling wind or drizzling rain. Once I put down a book like The Universe in Your Hand on my night table, I turn off the light and set my dream controls for interstellar overdrive. Birdsong precedes the dawn. Our ball of confusion has rotated and I can see our star once again. Get up. Put the coffee on. Feed the cat. The morning papers carry stories of Flat Earthers and Space Force. Back to bed, pull the blinds. 

My new novel The Garage Sailor is ready to ship. Get aboard at Megeoff.com.