Sunday, September 5, 2004

I remember thinking as a child about a planet on the exact opposite side of the Sun from us. It must have been a story in a book or on television. Everything was different for them. We zigged and they zagged. The Sun went from west to east. One thing was a constant reminder of their difference – they had two moons. Everything worked well for us and for them as long as we didn’t come in contact. It was some matter and anti-matter thing without the explosion ... except if you found your personal opposite. Then {boom!}. I wondered for hours what my opposite was doing and how funny it would be to see me, only right-handed.

In my thoughts, in the story, our spaceship launched out of our atmosphere then waited for the other planet to come over. (I was 8 with 3+ years of public education behind me.) A couple of our astronauts landed on the opposite planet and walked into town. There were lights and buildings, but the cars drove on the other side of the street, door labels that read “push” were actually “pulls.” The other people did speak English, so that was good. Our heroes fit in but had obvious difficulties remembering to do things in the opposite way. As the story evolved, these visitors learned to mimic the behavior of their hosts, but never completely. Tell-tale signs were there for the close observer. In the end, the visitors were found out – I think it had to do with how they lit and held a cigarette. It was in a club with hundreds of observers. The visitors were taken to the city limits and forbidden to return. After several days of wandering, our heroes hooked up with other visitors from Earth and joined the commune. Then the credits rolled, either in the movie or in my head – I can’t recall which.

You see, the strangers to the new society could only mimic. They could speak and move like us, but they could never become one of us. They want something we have maybe, they seek to profit from us, but they are never here to contribute to the greater good. They can try to convince us that they are just like us. But they are evil and must be found and expelled. Our existence relies upon it.

With this very long predicate, I present to you Prosecution’s Exhibit 1, a photograph that is a faithful representation of the objects and persons depicted. Here, the suspected outsider is shown attempting to mimic local at a tavern. Note the fatal flaw in his movements: when picking your nose in plain view, the pinky is always used; the index finger is reserved for private picks.


  1. Yeah, I know it's late as heck to be posting on here, but I really enjoy your blog and was just scanning through some older entries... I happened to notice something, though. Do Kerry's eyes appear abnormally red to you? Hm. Either he hit something vital up there with his finger, or his allergies are really killing him... riiiiight.

  2. thanks. i am glad you enjoy reading it. i am sitting here watching the yankees lose, and writing a new post (half-conversations). kerry was/is one scary dude. my secret desire is that he gets a slow-slow killing virus so we can watch him dissemble as he traverses the world looking for a cure, finally be forgotten by all the beautiful people that once loved him.