Snippet of an episode of the daytime soap ‘As your world explodes’

(Alternative title: ‘Your ship has just come in’)


SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Caution: This is a work of fiction. Any attempt to comprehend this as actual reality could lead to sniffles, goosebumps, rectal bleeding and agoraphobic amnesia. Under no circumstances should this medicine be taken under the care of a doctor, who will only poison you with something else afterwards. This is only a pilot script for a TV sitcom.

The NARRATOR (from offstage): Always remember to bring your mom. Things work out better that way.

Cut to image of John, 40 years ago, wearing a leather visor with a beard down to his belt, processing basketball games in the middle of the night in a fluorescent newsroom; then back to him hunched over a laptop, gray beard neatly trimmed. Books and cobwebs vie for supremacy in every corner of his dilapidated computer cave.

JOHN: The stories are coming in fast and furious from the universal pipeline, ma. It’s hard to keep up. Nine years of this is getting old. Have to screen out much relevant stuff because the sheeple — stuck as they are on whatever ladder of enlightenment they may have reached — keep getting deluged with the neverending waterfall of that go-back-to-sleep stuff.

MOM: I know, my son, but you enjoy it. What else would you be doing?

J: Nuthin’, ma. For me, it’s the only game in town. I mean, what the hell’s the point of being here if you can’t figure out what’s going on?

M: It’s a mixed blessing, you know. Once you know, and realize that everybody else doesn’t know, it becomes a terrible burden.

J: I like that old saying, ma. God never gives us anything more than we can handle.

M: That’s a healthy way to look at it, my son. Are the girls OK? J: Yes, they’re out in the yard playing guts frisbee beneath the spreading chestnut tree. The dog is with them. Everything’s fine.

M: What about the swine flu shot? What are we going to do, John?

J: Shoot it out if comes to that, ma. Taking that poison is not an option.

M: Are they going to gas us?

J: Ma-ah! (whines)

M: Are they?

J: They already ARE gassing us, ma, from a plethora of different directions. Barium in the chemtrails is changing the composition of humans, plus all the new designer diseases they are raining down upon us. Here’s the rule to remember, ma. All of the petroleum products cause all of the diseases, no ifs, ands, or buts, ma. This whole medical science thing has never been reputable but lately has devolved into a scheme to drug the entire world. And these drugs are all poison, ma. This is exactly why the Ottomans prevented the Jews from becoming doctors!

M: Yes, I remember that message from a rabbi to study medicine to more efficiently kill those who were not like them.

J: That’s right, ma. Spread that attitude across the board and you’ve got what’s happening to the world. Phony presidents in the pay of the superbankers running gigs with homosexual prostitutes and pushing buttons in Tampa that kill wedding parties in Herat. What kind of American dream is that, ma? A Jewish dream is what . . . kill all the infidels because God said we should do it. Motherf*****, he did indeed!

M: John, watch your language. The internet censors, you know, they’re always eavesdropping. Is Admiral Poindexter still in charge? No, maybe it’s Richard Armitage?

J: It doesn’t matter, ma. They have an endless supply of these twisted robotoids (accent on the toid) puked out by synagogues all over the world, plus the feckless bovines who “think they are getting ahead in the world.”

M: So when are you going to tell them?

J: Tell them what, ma?

M: You know, about everything.

J: Ma, you know they’re not ready, not even close.

M: But we’re out of time, John. You know that too.

J: No more than 20 years til the big one hits, maybe less than three.

M: Tell them.

J: This is all valid data, ma. No magic rosary beads here.

M: I know, John, tell them.

J: OK, Mom. Are you sure?

M: We’re out of time. Tell them about the ship.

J: They won’t understand.

M: Tell them anyway. Trust me.

J: Since you put it that way, OK. Y’know what I found out today, ma, when I was writing that story “Jesus was really a druid, and that’s the best part about him.” I found out that the power of the parable of Jesus PROVES that we can build The Metaphrand.

M: I thought we already built it. What do you mean?

J: Well, here’s a collection of data lumped together and all ascribed to this character of Jesus Christ, who was a fictional creation of Constantine, emperor of the Roman Empire, but a Brit, whose original religion was druidism, though he later professed belief in the Mithraic sun cult of Sol Invictus, which has always been one of my favorites, and ultimately, is the most sensible religion. Hesus was the name chosen for the composite Roman psyop deity, Hesus Krishna. Hesus was the druidic divinity. Krishna, of course, was the big kahuna from the subcontinent, the oldest of all the world’s gods (OK, Shiva was older) except for the Buddha.

But here’s the important point. Even though Jesus Christ was a fictional character, the power of memes ascribed to him was composed of all the best thoughts of all the great philosophers in previous history, and, unexpected by the composers, the message was so persuasive that everybody believed He was real, even though, as you can see from the Old Testament, it was a clumsy psyop. But the advertising was great. Hey, a free pass to eternal life, who wouldn’t buy it? Jesus is the ultimate anesthetic who immunizes us from oblivion.

This collection of memes shone a powerful light through the world for two millennia. That proves that the power of a fictional character can be made real, and seriously relevant. That proves, among other things, that what can be conceived can be achieved, and materialized into reality. This is the faculty we need to develop as fast as we can. Materialization. We have to create objects in the real world with our minds. And therein lies the road to world peace, not to mention our own literally empirical salvation, because that’s how we build the metaphrand. It is a projection of our own minds of a vehicle that can withstand anything and do anything. Build it to become yourself, because you’re going to need it, actually, whether you live or die. This is also how we can travel light years in an instant.

What the power of the PARABLE of Jesus really proves is that belief shapes reality, and what is contemplated can be created. Ultimately, this is what is going to have to save us, because there’s no going past the Wall of Time, as least as far as I know.

The PARABLE of Jesus, as opposed to the parables which Jesus reputedly uttered, is that a fictional character can be made real, and made to generate an astonishing amount of manipulative memetic power to generate generations of believers. This is essentially what powers the engine of the metaphrand.

M: Tell them WHY we need the ship.

J: Because the Mayan calendar is what it is. There is no going past the Wall of Time. The calendar ends in 2012. Can you imagine the cacophony? The date is not firm. Could be ten or 15 years either way, though there’s only three years left and it hasn’t happened yet, so it probably will happen on time.

M: What happens?

J: Time ends.

M: What does that mean?

J: That’s when we go into the white hole, ma, and everything shatters. If we are to survive, it will have to be without air, food, and water. They say traveling through a wormhole is exceedingly bumpy. I like the line from that book with the great title, “T-Rex and the Comet of Doom.” It goes, “nothing on Earth survived that was larger than a chicken.” I think we’re looking at a situation that will be considerably worse than that. Nothing will survive that’s larger than an amoeba. Think pyroclastic dust.

M: Yes, I know, that’s what you said, all those years ago. Is that why they built all those underground cities, John?

J: No, that was their feeble attempt to insulate themselves from the coming sunscorch, when we’re going to be seriously fried. But that’s not the white hole. The white hole is instantaneous vaporization. No one will feel a thing. Human history will be erased from the archives of time unless . . . we can drive our metaphrands to the other end of the wormhole. Fat chance, eh. This is compacting about four thousand years of evolution into a few months. Good luck, Skylax University students!

M: And that’s why we need the ship.

J: It’s our only hope. It’s easy to build. It’s a simple construction in your mind. Well, not exactly simple, but it’s doable. You know I wrote all that 20 years ago in Starship Footnotes. I thought it was cool that I used Phil Schneider’s report of the organic extraterrestrial craft that eventually died in New Mexico in 1947, because that’s what the metaphrand actually is, an organic spaceship, and timeship, and all that other stuff.

M: And the best thing was, it worked. It got us home.

J: Yes, mom, the purpose of it is to get us home. We’re all going home. We’re all going to the party at the end of time. And then we’ll all go home, and the universe and its beautiful stars will fly through the night forever.

M: I like that, we’re all going home. It’s where we belong.

J: G’night, ma; sleep tight.

M: Are the girls tucked in?

J: Yes, ma, my talking always puts them to sleep.

The NARRATOR (still offstage): Tune in for next week’s episode: Does your bicamerality impede your ability to build your metaphrand? Then you need the basic Starship Detox Syllabus, a must for transiting white holes as well as the bardo, available only on your favorite cybersoap, “As Your World Explodes.”

back to previous page