Far F***ing Out, Man!

There are 18 days left until the election. Tempers are flaring, people on both sides of the political fence are chomping at the bit, desperate to have their voices heard, to exercise their right as citizens to vote in a democratic and free election, to see their candidate in office, to turn the tide of our collapsing economy, to ensure that America rises from the ashes of the ruin it has become (ok, this might be a bit harsh); more now than ever before we are sick and tired of being bombarded by multi-million dollar ad campaigns, of neighbors turning vicious over silly signs in yards, of friends deleting friends on Facebook over liking a candidate’s page; anger and resentment fill our days and nights, talking points have become sacred texts we regurgitate on social media; and for all of this, when we close our eyes, we can feel it: the center will not hold. It is an exciting time in history, but this blog, today, is not about that.

I should preface this by saying my 12 year old son put me up to this. One day we were watching Ancient Aliens on the History Channel and this guy popped up on the television screen:

 My son and I watch this program from time to time, duped into the various episodes; never allowing for one cold hard fact: proof positive of extraterrestrial intelligence would make headlines news around the world; or as one scientist, whose name escapes me now, was quoted as saying: show me the UFO muffler that falls out of the sky and I will believe.

So, there we were last week, watching yet another episode of Ancient Aliens. Mr. Tsoukalos appeared on the screen and I mumbled something about his hair. To wit, my son chided me: you should write about that in your blog.

“Did human hairdressers create that look?” I said, invoking the narrator’s voice from Ancient Aliens. “Or was there some outside perhaps otherworldly influence involved?”

I mean no disrespect to Giorgio Tsoukalos; nor do I mean to mar the good name of History Channel’s Ancient Aliens. Sometimes, it takes children to force us to take a moment to breathe, to forget the ills of the world, to pull us out of our own heads and see what life is really worth. And if I have offended UFO and alien enthusiasts, or the over 57,000 diehard Twitter followers of Mr. Tsoukalos, by poking fun of that anti-gravity hairdo (to say nothing of the Mangerine tan he sports), then I offer my most humble apologies.

My intention was not misbegotten. If in reading this post you forgot about the political morass that is the 2012 Presidential Campaign for the minute or so it took you to read this post, then my work is done.


Author: obrienwriter

I write stuff, fiction mostly.

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