I am so tired of people who deserve credit being portrayed as villains and villains being portrayed as heroes. Yeah, i,m talking to you, Krys Kringal, or should I say operative CH7916A-BD, codename:”Santa Claus”? Here are Joe and I, a couple of honest, hardworking flim-flam artists, just trying to get by and make a living. while saving the world to boot, I might add, and do we get ant positive press? NNNOOO!!! But the fat guy in the red suit who goes all over the world in one night to pass out toys to children FOR FREE is somehow lauded with saintly-status!? I mean, What the hell!? Just let me explain it to you..
Many millenia ago Atlantis and her Zeta-Reticulan trading partners were the foes of the Lemurians and their Alpha-Draconian allies. Atlantis had a lesser island nation as a trading partner, because Atlantis rocked and it was kewl. Now Lemuria, on the other hand, had no other allies, since, as every Atlantean school child can tell you, Lemuria sucks! Due to the paranoia and suspicion of the Lemurians, and their expansionist designs on areas that Atlantis had already overrun and colonized fair and square, it was necessary for our benevolent dictatorship to put up a stern and preemptive defense to this threat. Millions of gold sovereigns were spent to finance this stop-hit defensive strike, but as it turned out, all the research, training and weapons advances proved to be completely unnecessary when the Lemurians allies, The Snake-men of Alpha Draconia, bumbled a little science experiment at their Lemurian research base and vaporized a large portion of the Island-continent before we could do it!
While it was good news that our foes had defeated themselves, their fork-tongued allies blamed our ally, and claimed that the explosion was a result of Irish terrorists making a suicide attack on Lemuria. Of course the gullible Lemurian public was only too ready to swallow this load of bilge water, and soon the Alpha-Draconian Intelligence service was landing in Lemuria, and their shape-shifting agents were sent to the far corners of the world to infiltrate and slow the advance of civilization and population growth as much as possible, without blowing their cover. For more on this, see my previous post on St. Patty’s Day.
Anyway, Krys Kringal had been a highly trained commando and special forces agent during the cold war with Lemuria, but now that fair Atlantis faced the even more dire threat of shape-changed snake men infiltrators, he switched his most elite operatives over to a new role as assassins, spy’s and infiltration and sabotage experts. These men were the Elite Lemurian Fighters (ELF, for short) and they carried out any mission Krys set them to with ruthless efficiency. This small force was responsible the stamping-out of more snakes than the Atlantean army, treasury, and St. Patty, combined
All the agents were given nano-implants which enhanced their speed, strength, hearing and vision, including the addition of infravision, ultravision, x-ray vision and radar vision, thus allowing them to see through any disguise or spell; to be able to look at a person and know if they are sick or well, tired or rested, bad or good, human, eben, atlantean, lemurian or ophidian reptoid. They can tell by your pulse, respiration, body temperature, eye movement, body posture (and voice stress analysis processors) if you are lying to them or telling the truth. They have performed long term missions on the surface world at various times, but usually congregate around their base and do the bidding of and protect their ruthless leader, Krys. His designation is “The Boss”, but his actual title is Supreme leader of the Atlantean NanoTech Agents, or S.A.N.T.A, for short. Krys, as their leader was given even more additional upgrades including a localized temporal displacement generator and an anti-gravity generator and vibrational frequency phase-shifter, to allow Krys to pass through solid objects. This package of hardware is called the Cyborg Lone Assault & Undercover Surveillance package, or C.L.A.U.S., for short.
Once the snake-men were disposed of, Krys was reassigned to spy on the air-breathers and keep records of their advancements and intrigues for later analysis. This was about a thousand years ago, so Krys used the Image illusion projectors built into his S.A.N.T.A. suit to project his appearance as that of an elderly and overweight Nordic sleigh-driver, a perfect nondescript cover for the day and place. Definitely looks out of place now, though. Old Krys could use the powers at his disposal to penetrate the dwellings of any human effortlessly. He needed to put one or several microscopic viewing and listening devices in each home, and to make their hiding places mobile and inconspicuous, he settled on the idea of making some cheaply produced second-rate toys, and hiding one remote viewer/listening “bug” in each toy, knowing how children’s toys tend to end up all over the place. He has been doing this for centuries now, and the penetration of his insidious spy network is so complete that he sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows if you’re laying there pretending to be asleep, but actually awake, His omnipresent cameras and sensors allow him to know if you are lying to your grandma about being bad or good, and his database and storage capacity is ridiculous, so you better avoid all toys, for goodness sake.
This went on for a long time until a snake man agent, who had managed to work his way up to posing as a Bishop amongst his human hierarchy, caught wind of what Agent Krys had been up to. He began to perform a similar tactic, hiding a bug in a gold coin, (an object no human could resist, he reasoned,) and leaving the coin in the shoe of the potential surveillance target. This plan failed however, because although the coins were pretty irresistible, most people went right out and spent them, thus diminishing their usefulness a tracking or monitoring devices. So, the snake man decided to copy Krys’ plan exactly and bug and deliver toy/monitoring devices to the children of Europe to start with. He established his first base in the Netherlands, where he operated under the codename “Sinterklaas”, a name which could easily be confused with Santa Claus, but actually is a derisive term in the Alpha Draconian language, roughly translatable as “he who hornswoggles greedy bumpkins” if my translation program can be trusted. Thanks to heavy bribes to the Germans, who harassed Agent Krys and his E.L.F.-troopers until they were forced to leave the continent and take up residence first in Iceland and later in Greenland, Agent Krys was almost put out of action. But then help came to Krys from an unexpected quarter.
Ascended masters from the hollow inner earth made contact with Krys and the Vikings in the area, a group already hard-pressed by the frigid winters and now under attack by snake-man agents and their hypnotically controlled Eskimo slaves, which they had sent against the Viking settlers in huge massed attacks. The heroic settlers had fought valiantly, but were now given the option of moving to a place of safety. So it was that they followed krys north, ever north, until they arrived at the polar opening and went over to the inner side of the earths crust, to dwell in this hot-house and gorgeous utopia from then on. In order to lead the vikings north, Krys had reconfigured the cloaking shield on his Atlantean flying saucer, and he managed to tie the shields in with the ships hologram projectors, in order to make the saucer invisible, but also to project a hologram of the local mode of transport- a reindeer-drawn sleigh- on the bottom of the saucer. It was a simple matter to convince the locals that he was a wizard and that the same powers which gave him a flying sleigh were also able to contact the Ascended masters of the Hollow Earth and garner their aid!
Anyway, now that he didn’t have to be on the defensive all the time, he went back over to the offensive, with gusto! The entire S.A.N.T.A. unit was relocated to the hollow earth, and soon the snake-men were once again on the run. The final battle between Santa Claus and the treacherous and vile Sinterklaas, took place after the legion of Yule was finally stamped out by S.A.N.T.A.s E.L.F.-troopers, who bombed their barracks in the middle of the night. These poor unfortunates were the bad children which were taken away by Sinterklaas Dark Helper, a vile being who kidnaps and then brainwashes and retrains children to be the soulless shock-troops of the sinister Sinterklaas! With these suicidal legions out of the way, Santa Claus pressed a one on one attack against Sinterklaas! Santa’s heroic ELF-troopers held off the attacks of the witch-hunters, another group secretly controlled by the ruthlessly evil Sinterklaas, while Agent Krys tried to prevent his foe from unleashing a dreadful biological weapon, a rat bomb. although Santa was successful in finally slaying the evil impostor Sinterklaas, his vizier ‘father Christmas” and the dreaded Dark Helper, he could not stop the rat bomb from detonating, and Constantinople became the birthplace of the black death, another misery unleashed upon the surface-dwellers by the Lemurians allies, the snake-men!
Since then Agent Krys has continued to spy on the surface world- a world blissfully ignorant of the true nature of the jolly fat guy and his secret-agent agenda. So this guy, who spies on the surface world, has a personal hit squad, ordered the execution of hypnotically-controlled Eskimo slaves and soulless mind-controlled kinder shock-troops alike, hides out at a secret base in the hollow inner earth, and does nothing to help the flagging world economy (remember, he MAKES the toys and GIVES them away, doing nothing to put money back in the economy) is lionized as a hero and role model for children and adults alike! Meanwhile we, a couple of hard-working Atlanteans, selflessly and for no gain of our own , try to save the world, not spy on it or assassinate political and military enemies like Krys did, and what do we get? Ignored or laughed at! Well I’ve had enough of this preposterous Santa propaganda, and I have just set the record straight. The rest is up to you.
If you want to aid Agent Krys in his plan to monitor and control the world, just let your kids write him a letter and ask for bugging devices disguised as toys. If, on the other hand, you are a patriot and conscientious parent who doesn’t want their child to grow up greedy and materialistic and doesn’t want to help foreign powers watch and track their every move, fill those Christmas stockings with Deeds to Atlantis! This will prevent war, help shore up the world economy (thanks to your spending), foil the plans of foreign agents to spy upon you and help clean up and protect the environment and the worlds oceans for future generations! And, ultimately, which present says I love you and Merry Christmas with more honesty and integrity, that or some lousy plastic toy which will break in two weeks and then be tossed in a dump where it will NEVER biodegrade? The answer is obvious, so BUY ATLANTIS and MERRY CHRISTMAS to one and all!
Hugh Mann
Now that the holiday season is upon us it behooves those of us who partake in the holiday spirit(s) to remember that the forces of oppression are just waiting to make your life a living hell should you choose to flout their rules. Always remember the primary rule of partying-SAFETY FIRST! Now as to what the other rules are, I have had numerous suggestions as to what the other universal rules might be. The most abbreviated version I can offer, since no two sources seem to agree, is to give you Brucifers three primary rules of drinking. In order of importance, these are:
Never call your ex when you are drunk.
Never drive when you have been drinking.
Never say “Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it?” when you are at a biker bar.
Many severe and possibly painful repercussions may be avoided if these rules are scrupulously adhered to. If you are feeling entirely too altruistic for your own good, you may elect to forget about rule two, and be prepared to make several large donations to your local government, lawyer, law enforcement, incarceration and probation agencies. All of these groups are looking forward to taking your money away, but on the positive side, this extra infusion of cash into the local market will help to shore up your sagging economy. As a side benefit, they will more than likely take away your right to drive, and this will help you to do your part to curtail the emission of fossil fuels into the atmosphere and cut down on global warming.
So all things considered, drinking and driving should be considered as not only patriotic, but also environmentally sound and “green”.
The breaking of rule number one could be considerably more painful, since several unappealing outcomes are real possibilities. The first, and least painful, is that you reach the wrong person due to your extreme intoxication and having dialed the wrong number. Possible outcomes here range from giggling to a sudden click sound followed by a dial tone to the voice of one of your friends saying ” You dialed the wrong number again you moron. Now stop trying to call your ex!” Now in the unlikely event that you are so impaired that calling your ex seems to be a good idea but you actually dial the right number (more than likely because you talk a less-intoxicated friend into dialing for you) even less appealing outcomes await you. One is the sound of your ex’s voice laughing right before the click and dial tone sounds. Another is that your ex chooses that moment to remind you of the restraining order against you and letting you know that the police are on their way to your locale. Yet another is the sound of their current boyfriends voice telling you that he is on his way to your house to disembowel you with a dull putty knife or to beat you into paste with a baseball bat.
Now rule number three should be fairly obvious, but if you already ignored rule one, you may be retarded enough to also ignore rule number two and find yourself at a nearby biker bar in order to avoid the police and/or enraged boyfriend currently on their way to your home. Although you may feel dispirited, depressed or angry because of this turn of events which your drunken stupidity has unfairly visited upon you, under no circumstances should you hit on the really hot biker chick next to you while her boyfriend is using the restroom. Remember: he will come back out eventually, and you can just bet that she will not take kindly to your slobbering, slurring, groping or possibly throwing up on her leather jacket. Assuming she doesn’t just call a bouncer to her aid and actually waits for her seven foot, three hundred fifty pound surly boyfriend to reemerge from the john, you can then look forward to him telling you to get lost or suffer the consequences, assuming he doesn’t just automatically attack. Under no circumstances should you then utter the phrase which must not be spoken! If you do it is entirely likely that he will be using your face for a speed bag right after the “Oh yeah…” part of the phrase has left your lips. If not, the bouncers will do his job for him. It could also be that they will all escort you to the parking lot for a team stomp, and God help you if you are so drunk that you didn’t recognize that the hot biker chick you have just made a pass at IS your ex and the her giant biker boyfriend has his dull putty knife and baseball bat with him and that he is an off-duty cop, as are his friends who work part-time at this bar as bouncers!
So, for your own sake, always follow the three rules of drinking, and if you want to do something fun that more than likely won’t get you into trouble, stay home and surf the internet! If that’s what you are already doing, it will be even more fun and painless to buy a deed to property in Atlantis! If you are a real adrenaline junkie or thrill-seeker, you can buy a deed to two or even three acres of property! Have a safe and happy holiday!
I recently noticed a new program on the History Channel entitled “U.F.O.Hunters”. Many questions come to mind when confronted with such a strange program title. Needless to say, I have not, as of yet actually viewed this program. Things which I would like to know, however, include the following:
1) What, exactly, are these hunters using for a weapon? Since we Atlanteans are all too painfully aware, you air-breathers are woefully lacking in any technology capable of actually shooting down a flying saucer; just what is it that these hunters are doing? Using a large net? Are they whistling and waving to the UFO to attract its attention? Are they using bait to draw in a UFO? JUST WHAT IS THIS BAIT? Is it an unconscious person lying on the ground on a huge banner saying “abduct me” and the person in question having their bare buttocks exposed with a tattoo and arrow on them which reads INSERT PROBE HERE? Assuming they entice a UFO to land how are they going to capture it? Perhaps a 50 foot diameter titanium bear-trap, attached to the ground, and suitably camouflaged lies just beneath the “bait”. Maybe they have the ground covered with thousands of no-pest strips with a new extra strong adhesive to hold their quarry in place. I simply don’t know.
2) Who regulates this sport, the DNR? Do they have an actual license for this or is it considered an add on for the upland bird hunting license, and if so, do you purchase a “saucer stamp” to attach to it? What exactly is the daily/yearly bag limit for saucers? Who gets the money collected from these licenses? Are such revenues used to protect the habitat and natural environment of the saucers? If so, how are these funds transferred to Alpha Draconia, Zeta Reticuli and other natural saucer habitats? If not, what are the funds used for? Purchasing cigar companies in Cuba?
3) What is done with a captured saucer, were one so lucky as to actually capture one? Is there some recipe for cooking these things and making a roast, stew or chili from them? Or are they just destined to be trophies; stuffed and mounted on a truly gigantic mantle above some enormous fire place! Are the crews released or are they considered to be part of the stuffing in the recipe when the saucer is cooked? Or is the whole thing simply an exercise in “catch and release”?
Obviously, illegal aliens piloting these craft will be somewhat less than amused by such treatment, were they actually capable of amusement or any other emotion for that matter. The retaliation visited upon those who engage in such a sport would no doubt be horrific, spectacular and fatal. In the final analysis, it would be far safer to go hunting in Atlantis, a process which could be begun simply by purchasing an acre of land from the safety of your home! Leave UFO hunting to the witless, suicidal and foolhardy rubes amongst us and buy Atlantis instead! Hugh Mann
The Earth is growing warmer. Of course, you wouldn’t notice it in Minnesota, especially in December and January. In fact, Minnesota loves global warming! Unfortunately, the rest of the world seems to be opposed to it, especially the area that Algore dwells in.
So what causes global warming? Who cares. Asking that question is like standing around watching your house burning down and arguing with your roommate about who left the stove on. What you should be doing is putting the fire out and worry about assigning blame later, assuming you manage to save anything and still have a place left to live when the ashes settle!
There are two possibilities here, the first is that global warming is natural, and this has, in fact, occurred more than once in the past. The second is that it was caused by humans putting lots of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere for the last couple centuries since the industrial revolution began. If it was the Earth and nature, you can blame the Earth and chastise naughty mother nature until the cows come home, but they won’t listen to you and don’t give a rats ass what you may think about the natural course of events and Earth cycles. If, on the other hand, it was human caused, The industrialized nations and by extension the entire human race are to blame. So what are you going to do; put the whole human race in jail for their witless trashing of the atmosphere? Are you going to dig up the moldering corpses of those barons of industry who started the whole thing a couple of hundred years ago and put them in jail? Perhaps their descendants should be held liable and made to pay for the cleanup, as well as the oil companies and oil rich nations whose greed and stupidity caused the problem and help to perpetuate it to this moment?
Clearly, assigning blame, though fun, does nothing to solve the problem. Seizing the assets of, and putting the fat cats who made billions of dollars (at the expense of the Earth and all its inhabitant) to death on the impalement stake and broadcasting it on pay-per-view television could be one option. One could then spend the accruing funds to clean up the atmosphere. It would make many people feel that justice had finally been served to these Earth-raping scumlords, but even this would still fall short of solving the problem.
Also, the truth about greenhouse gases point to the fact that methane is many times worse than carbon dioxide as a heat trapping agent. Cars aren’t producing it and the frozen methane trapped at the bottom of the ocean (methane hydrate) has not yet reached a temperature high enough to cause it’s release. In fact it seems that the majority of methane being released into the atmosphere has a simple, well documented cause. It comes from cattle. The Earth has never in recorded history been the home of more bovines than now. These cud-chewing burger factory’s produce tremendous amounts of methane gas courtesy of their four stomachs and cellulose-dissolving digestive tracts, which are then released as flatulence. Cow farts are the culprit that currently threaten the atmosphere, and by extension, all life on earth!
There are two easy ways to deal with this problem. The first is to eat more burgers and steak at a rate that outstrips the ranchers ability to breed and replace the cattle, thus reducing their numbers. The drawback to this approach is that ranchers are likely to increase breeding to keep up with demand and deforest more land for the cattle to graze upon. The second approach is somewhat more high-tech, but the bugs could be worked out with a little brainpower and research. This solution is to stop the methane from being released into the atmosphere in the first place. No, I’m not talking about bovine butt-plugs, since cows need to take a dump on a regular (and unscheduleable) basis. I propose a system of mobile methane collectors! These CFCU’S (cow fart collection units) would resemble a scuba tank- like apparatus strapped to the cows back with a funnel and tube attached to the base of the cows tail. When the bovine brapps, a methane sensor activates a simple vacuum pump which draws the cow fart into the CFCU and stores it. When the tank is full, or at regular intervals, such as when the cow comes to a feed lot, the tank is attached by a simple tube at its release valve, and the stinky contents are siphoned off to a CCFCU (central cow fart collection unit). Again, when this tank is full, or at regular intervals, a CFCT (cow fart collection truck) rolls up to the ranch and hauls away its payload of natural gas to be sent to market as a clean-burning non-fossil fuel.
Dairy cattle could be even easier to outfit, since they don’t wander around and a dome and suction system could be installed over the barn. And cows, like all animals except humans, are lactose-intolerant once they reach adulthood. mix old, spoiled, spilled or curdled milk in with their feed to create an even larger harvest of natural gas; a bovine butt-blast bonanza!
Ultimately, the one way to stop cow fart production immediately is to purchase land and not allow any cattle ranching to occur on it. One area that you may be absolutely, 100% certain that this will never occur, is within the city limits of Atlantis! So stop the cow fart catastrophe now and buy an acre or more of land in Atlantis!
Love her or hate her, you’ve got to admit one thing about GOP VP candidate Sarah Palin; she is totally hot! Not just hot, but smokin‘ hot. so hot that she probably goes through about a dozen pairs of panties, stockings and bras every day. WHY? Because every time she slides into a new set of undies they spontaneously combust simply as a result of being in contact with that velvety, gun-toting, moose gutting skin of hers! In fact, in her case. GOP VP undoubtedly stands for Goddess Of Politics, Very Provocative! from the sleek. curvaceous body to the delicately coiffed hair, soft brown eyes and luscious lips to the slinky dress subtly displaying her world-class gams and even her naughty school-marm glasses. this woman simply oozes sexiness! Of course the whole thing was carefully calculated to aid her in winning the VP debate. It certainly worked from my standpoint; Every time the camera was on her I was absolutely incapable of maintaining my concentration on anything she was talking about and could only stare at her with open-mouthed admiration accompanied by a noticeable turgidity in the groinal region. Biden, for his part, was incapable of launching any sort of attack against her, but to his credit. did his best not to wipe the drool away from the edges of his mouth while the cameras were trained on him.
If elected, there can be no doubt that she will be the hottest woman ever to hold such a high office in history. Lets face it, compared to her, Golda Meir, Maggie Thatcher, Hillary Clinton, Geraldine Ferraro and Indira Gandhi have the visual appeal of runny dog poop.
For those of us smitten by this vision of beauty, we can only hope that her marriage to the first dude, Todd, will end as so many other American marriages do these days; in divorce. Hiring call girls to grab Todd in suggestive areas while having already alerted the ever present left wing paparazzi to an impending photo-op could hasten this process, and get Sarah back on the market.
Now, some would claim that she is not qualified for this office and lacks experience. Yeah, as if Obama has any experience doing any thing other than voting”present”. Lets face it, all the Vice President actually does is cast a tie-breaking vote, attend funerals of foreign dignitaries and occasionally blast a banker who appears too much like a quail while out hunting. We know she can do the first two at least as well as Darth Cheney can and, as to the third, you can bet she would have aimed well enough to finish off the son of a bitch and probably cleaned the remains and cooked them up into an appetizing meal as well. So shes obviously more qualified than the present office holder is.
Some fear that if McCain wins, being older than most garden varieties of dirt, he will soon shuffle off this mortal coil, leaving Sarah as our new leader. After all, the only experience she has is running the largest state in the union, one about a third the size of the lower 48. The other three candidates are far more qualified, all being senators who are basically in charge of nothing. But to give credit where it is due, all three of these morons are the same dolts who helped deregulate the country into the disaster we are presently enjoying. So yes, they have way more experience than Sarah does- experience at screwing things up!
By this point you probably think I’m strongly in favor of Sarah (and John) becoming our new leaders. Nothing could be further from the truth. Have you seen any recent photos of what G.W. looked like at the beginning of his first term and compared them to what he looks like now at the end of his second term? The guy appeared as a vigorous middle-aged man in the earlier times and now looks like cadaverous, rotting roadkill that has been passed through a wringer! Sure you could claim that the stress of 9 11 and the two wars had a lot to do with it, but what about Clinton? He also appeared youthful and strong at the beginning of his term and by the end of the second he had the appearance of a white-haired doddering old codger, and you can’t blame it all on interns BJ’s under the desk in the oval office as the factor which sucked the life out of him. It may have something to do with the intelligence agencies letting them both know who really runs this planet and who really has the preeminant world power on Earth (Atlantis) when they take office!
So unless you want to see Sarah’s heart-stopping beauty transformed into hag-like hideousness and silver-haired wrinkledom, don’t vote for her. Keep Palin beautiful and out of Washington!
In the final analysis, the VP position would end up making her less desirable in other positions; positions like missionary and doggie-style. But let me stop circumnavigating the crux of my musings and state the obvious: if she had gills, I’d do her!
Clearly the Romans, one of Poseidon’s favorite societies had the right idea. In times of crisis use decimation. Line all the bankers up, have them count off by tens (if they can really count that high), line them up and have the nine kill the tenth. The choice of method of execution can remain with the nine. They can stone them; they can shoot them; the can impale them; they could smother the tenth with piles of dollar bills. After all, $700,000,000,000 is a big pile of dollars. Remember that the pentagon had to ship money to Iraq on pallets. And those were twenties and hundred dollar bills. This will send the right message.
This financial crisis is NOT that hard to understand. Although Ben Bernake, and Hank Paulson would love for you to believe that only someone of their intelligence can understand and/or fix this disaster, it is not true. Understanding this crisis is simple. Bankers have squandered their fortunes, and now, with a stick up their collectivce ass(ets), they are unwilling to lend what little cash they have left to the rest of us (who did not cause this disaster).
Our economy is built on credit, and without credit the manufacturing sector, the transportation sector, the energy sector will be unable to borrow. When they can’t borrow, they can’t continue to do business. They cut payroll and jobs are lost. But its not the manufacturing, transportation or energy sectors that caused this mess, it was BANKERS, fancy pinstripe-wearing prancing pansies that they are.
Teach them the ultimate lesson. Let them know what will happen in the future should they screw up so royally again. I gaurantee, with the loss of one in ten, the remaining ninety percent will quickly learn to make better decisions. They’ll make decisions like their lives depend on it, and it WILL.
In the meantime, all of us are morally bound to keep the economy rolling. You must spend what capital you have remaining. You must continue to invest. And there is no better invesment than real estate, specifically property in Atlantis. Buy your deed here.
Reasonable minds have rejected, out of hand, the notion that the Large Hadron Collider in Bern Switzerland will create a black hole that will lead to the destruction of earth. It will not create a black hole, that will gobble up the earth, the solar system, and possibly even the universe as we, land-dweller and Atlantean, know it.
It has, however, created a black hole that has swallowed human financial markets. Clearly, one of the dimensions that humankind needs to “discover” and understand is the dimension of finance. This dimension of finance and economy is linked to the three dimensional world in which we all exist, and the black hole generated by the large hadron collider is gobbling this dimension up whole. We must act now to salvage what is left of this dimension and the human financial markets. Hugh and I cannot long protect the Atlatean financial markets from the devastation occurring in this dimension. And once Atlantean markets are disrrupted, other galactic markets will be affected as well.
Should financial markets, spatially distant from earth, start to feel the pull of this black hole, the Zeta-Reticulans, and the reptoids of Alpha Draconia, will act to preserve their own markets and stamp out the the cause of the distruption. Far be it for me to speculate on their joint action, but I suspect that the devastation wrought by the Vogons in their mis-timed attempt to build the hyperspatial express route, will pale in comparison.
Act now to shore up all financial markets. Buy a deed to a parcel of property in Atlantis. The sheer act of investing your valuables in real property beneath the seas will counteract the large hadron collider, and secure the future of earth for both air-breathers and citizens of Atlantis alike.
For your viewing pleasure, as you consider the necessity of your purchase, listen to AlpineKat explain in rythmic human language the LHC.
Although unobserved by air breathers, the city of Atlantis is the frequent destination of visitors from many worlds. Too many have sought unauthorized commerce. We call these unregistered visitors “Illegal Aliens”. When caught, (and they always are), we have strong measures of dealing with them: landing fees, entrance taxes, import fines, customs costs, court access fees, court incarceration taxes, sales taxes, income taxes, income evasion fines, registration costs, and finally a broad range of citizenship acquisition costs, fees, and taxes. Once within our city they will serve to make the city the thriving metropolis it is. And I do mean serve. Those imaginative, industrious, talented or otherwise capable of creating a prosperous life, are encouraged to do so, through a schedule of ever increasing taxes. Those without this ability are guided towards serving the useful functions that are required for such a vibrant municipality. Filling these service positions, while continuing to pay their full share of all Atlantean taxes, prevents consideration of sending for family, and other resource consuming relatives. Atlantis in her wisdom bestows citizenship on all illegal aliens, and with her multiple levels of citizenship within several generations, the succeeding generations may slowly rise through the multiple forms, flavors, and variations of citizenship.
Hugh Mann view:
Although i agree with good ol’ Joe King to a greater extent, the rosy picture he paints of the dire illegal alien crisis currently sweeping both our mutual homeland and also the young kingdom in which we currently reside leaves out many real points of the failed border policies of both lands. Yes, we don’t turn away our unregistered invaders like the United States is supposed to, but actually FAILS to do, but neither do we let them return to their homeland. In addition to the crushing taxation and relentless tyranny of our wonderfully omnipresent and well-meaning government, new immigrants are unable to escape these horrors by fleeing back to their homelands. What Joe doesn’t tell you is that due to lax Alantean border defenses and an incomplete border retention fence, some few of these illegal immigrants have actually escaped to their various points of origin to report to their countrymen on the sad state of Atlantis treatment of those poor souls who, having fled tyranny and oppression in their homeland, were so unfortunate as to have chosen Atlantis as the lesser of two evils. Now, because of this lapse in security, our government and the sovereign Kingdom of Atlantis can no longer attract any illegal immigrants to help prop up our economy with their taxes and labor. Atlantis faces a recession, possibly even a depression thanks to this loss to our tax base! the only silver lining in this black cloud is that Atlantis doesn’t issue paper currency and uses gold coins instead; also, with no interlopers from other worlds crossing our borders, we no longer have to live in fear of the inevitable outbreaks of the plague that have occurred at regular intervals due to unquarantined and unchecked alien visitors mingling with our citizens.
I must admit that I don’t quite understand your predilection for frequenting beaches at spring break. If you think about it, the beach is actually a grim wasteland. What the heck am I talking about now? Well, there are all sorts of creatures in the oceans. They swim, float, scuttle, crawl or cling to the bottom. Eventually they die. When they do, the ocean does its housecleaning by throwing what remains of their corpses up on the beach. Obviously, this makes these places reek, what with the half-rotted fish and seaweed strewn about on them. Then there is the fact that those beautiful white sand beaches aren’t what they seem to be. What looks like white sand at a distance is, on closer inspection, not sand at all. What it is is ground up coral, seashells and fish parts; in other words, skeletons. So not only do you get to enjoy the stank of rotting corpses, but you get to walk, lay or otherwise frolic on a surface that is, in fact, a grim necropolis of the oceans. Also, the sun in these areas is mercilessly hot and you swiftly get heat stroke or at least become so hot that you take leave of your senses and decide that the ocean would be a good place to go to cool off a bit. This is not a good plan. Poseidon doesn’t want you in the ocean and he has box jellyfish, sharks and other bouncers patrolling these areas as a warning to stay the hell out. Even the ocean itself tries to give you the hint - every time you try to go in a wave tries to throw you back out. But waves are the “nice” bouncers in Lord Poseidon’s nightclub. The riptide is the mean bouncer who drags you into the club and beats the living bejeebers out of you! And the other inhabitants of the ocean are also well aware of the fact that “the Boss” doesn’t want you around, and they are more than willing to sting, claw, bite, shred tear you apart or just swallow you whole to keep you out of there. If surface dwellers had been meant to swim, God would have given them gills and fins!
So there you are, hanging out on a gruesome layer of pulverized skeletons, enjoying the wafting odor of rotting flesh and plants, getting a whopping dose of solar radiation, and trying to go into a place that is dangerous if not fatal for air breathers to go to. And this is your idea of a fun time?
How would you like it if Atlanteans started taking their spring break on your turf? Lets face it, if you started seeing large gatherings of people partying in your local graveyards and wrecking up the place every spring, you guys would get more than a little pissed. So lets make a deal. You guys STOP having parties in our graveyards and we wont START having them in yours! Oh, by the way, Poseidon doesn’t want you in the rivers and lakes either. That’s what gators and crocs were invented for!
Weird holidays. You guys don’t get it. You have an Irish monk from the dark ages of Europe who is revered hundreds of years later, on the other side of the world, for chasing the snakes out of Ireland. And how do we commemorate his victory? Why, by chugging green beer until we turn green and/or puke, that’s how! It’s actually surprisingly appropriate when you know the true story of St. Patty’s day.
First of all, there never were any snakes in Ireland, not since it was much nearer to the equator, anyway. So, obviously the legend is not talking about your garden variety, crawls on its belly, hiss hiss, chomp chomp type of snakes. Nor are they referring to lawyers, which at that point in history were virtually non-existent in Ireland. So what is it that the legend is referring to?
Some modern scholars claim that the real heroic act of St. Patty was to help preserve the learning of past times and help to save western civilization. They are partially right. It was what he discovered in that vast treasure trove of ancient volumes that led him to save Ireland and the exact details have been suppressed . His story has been purposely distorted to pretect the innocence and sanity of the masses.
This story begins long, long ago in a civilization now lost and forgotten. This was a shining example of brotherhood, unity and peace; a sophisticated people with an advanced civilization: the Irie! This small but mighty tough island kingdom was an ally and trading partner with her neighbor to the southwest, Atlantis. Their only foes were the hostile Lemurians, but they were way over in the pacific ocean and not much of a regular threat.
Now, just as the Atlanteans were members of the Galactic Assembly of Worlds and tended to trade most often with the technology-worshiping Zeta-Reticulans, also known as “eben’s”, so too did the Lemurians have their favorite tourists and trading partners, these being the inhabitants of Alpha Draconia, also known as the ‘reptoids’ because of their reptilian or ophidian appearance. The reptoids even had a scientific research base in Lemuria and, according to Atlantean agents, it was this that initiated the first Lemurian disaster. A Reptoid experiment went awry, promptly vaporizing a third of Lemuria in a blinding flash. Rather than admit their ineptitude and take the blame, the wily reptoids claimed an Irish terrorist had sabotaged their equipment and intentionally caused the disaster. Although the Lemurians were bloodthirsty, warlike and short-tempered, they were also gullible and naive, so they swiftly swallowed this line of malarkey and were out to get the Irish. Now that their kingdom was in a shambles they couldn’t do the job militarily, because Irie’s ally, Atlantis would join the fray and bring about Lemuria’s doom. The island of Mu was busy with their own problems (another android uprising) and wisely decided not to be involved. At this point, the reptoids, ever eager to maintain old alliances and seize new property for themselves, volunteered to come to the aid of the stricken Lemurian civilization and handle “the rubout” for them. Using their shape-shifting powers, the reptoids disguised themselves as really pale humans and infiltrated Ireland. However, for a long while all their attempts to disrupt and destroy Irie met with utter failure. That is, until one fateful day when one of the reptoids unknowing local contacts, a town drunk named Seamus O’blivion, grabbed a beaker of what he assumed was ale from the sinister reptoids table and before his host could warn him of the danger, drank it. The beaker had been full of grain alcohol, which the reptoids use as a solvent. Much to the reptoid agent’s surprise, the irie didn’t immediately keel over dead as a reptoid would have, but instead became loud, boisterous, nearly unintelligible and violent. The sinister reptoid struck upon a diabolical new plan and after conferring with his superiors, was given the green light to proceed. The reptoids then gave the Irie the recipe for whiskey and sat back in delight and satisfaction as their high civilization crumbled from within. The reptoids then took over the Emerald isle, posing as the ruling elite and controlling the Irie populace for millenia. This continued until our hero, St. Patrick, discovered the details of their nefarious plan. Since the monastaries of northern Europe are known for their brewing, St. Patty toured the land, stopping at the castle, keep, manor or tower of each land holding noble and introducing them to his shamrock ale, which wasn’t actually ale at all, but whiskey. Well after the first few keeled over dead and reverted to their true forms, most of the rest fled the isle or were hunted down. To this day, the Irish like to have a shot of whiskey with a new acquaintance, blissfully unaware of where this tradition began and what it’s significance is.
The liberation of Ireland and the driving out of the reptoids (also known as snakemen) has been commemorated ever since with a yearly festival where one consumes quantities of the Irie’s favorite drink of the golden age, beer, colored green so that none would ever forget the reptoid menace. Sadly, the evil poison of the reptoids, whiskey, has not only destroyed their earlier civilization but has also erased their memory of the peril from which they were saved by the heroic St. Patrick!
