Turn off the light so I may better see the hobgoblins! (sez "Urthers")

Stomach Churning and Noggin Pounding!

Before any reader, if any (...a reader of this blog, or one who can actually read), departs these pages with warm notions and smug feelings, sensing--perhaps only vaguely--a sturdy ally in their microscopic Kindergarten crusades, be alerted that we here at the Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries, along with myself, Professor Antonio Pille De-luxe, support no claims and take no sides in "Urther" controversies, any more than an "Urther" would cheer-lead black ants over red, or visa versa. Rather, our immediate inclination--following an endless and enervating day eyeballing and jotting-down the misbehavior of your world-- is to retrieve the Pressurized Bug Bomb from the Institute potting shed and rid ourselves of Homo Formicidae for all time. However ethics and civilized leanings deny that course to us. Unquestioned, there are among the Neanderthalers of "Urth" saintly Herren and Frauen who try their utmost and stay humble, but they are overwhelmed by an avalanche of conformists, correctists, reducers, unthinking-ers, and downright buffoons, scarcely-to-mention the outright malevolent. In normal times, say the Elizabethan Epoch or several days after the Creatrix baked the first gingerbread man (and from his gingerbread rib a gingerbread woman created, as our Great--and frequently peed upon--Holy Book, The Bathroom Reader tells us), all this planet-wide cesspool frivolity-- politics, religion, stillborn philosophies, puerile economics, organized and subsidized mayhem--would be mere matinee entertainment for the luminaries of Valhalla and Olympus. In this singular time, though, ground-shattering troubles abound and at the identical moment never before have such wondrous sciences and technologies capable of alleviating these troubles been so at hand. Instead, both the true Troubles and the real Solutions are ignored or mistranslated; at times "da Urth's" citizenry resembles a vigorous daisy-chain of pickpockets and backstabbers trapped on a slowly sinking ship adrift in shark-stuffed waters. We have a fuddler here on Erde and it procedes thusly: Interrogator: How many "Urthers" does it take to install an electro-illuminatory orbical? Responder: Four or five billion it would seem, and sadly that may yet not be enough!