Who Gives A Hoot?

My memories of a previous life on Mars are fading more and more each year. One day my Martian memories will be so faint, selective and sporadic that I'll convince myself that I never even had a previous life on Mars, that my first time around was right here on planet Earth, along with the rest of you.

But since I'm still believing that I once lived on Mars when it was a wonderful big green, red and blue marble in the blackness of interstellar space, I still benefit from the Martian sixth sense that allows me to feel and smell a lie whenever I encounter it.

Want proof? When I was seven years old I thought it was really odd that a skinny pyramid with an eyeball on top of it is on the back of a one-dollar bill. Not even grown ups thought about that back then. By 1970 most of them still weren't even aware of that ridiculous pyramid and that even more ridiculous eyeball. By 1980 some people knew but no one cared. By 1990, a few more people knew about it but even fewer people cared about why and how it got there. By 2000, nobody gave a hoot.

And all that time, while I was wondering and puzzling and thinking about that idiotic pyramid, we Americans were too preoccupied with the daily business of eating, sleeping, buying, selling and procreating to notice the little owl on the front of the one-dollar bill. That's right, a teeny-weeny little owl perched between a leaf and the number "1" at the top, right-hand corner of the front of the American one-dollar bill. Wow, just being able to describe where it's located is a successful exercising of my limited Earthling free will.

As a former Martian (yes, I still believe in me), my biggest concern is not primarily where these disturbing images came from or why they're on the one-dollar bill or who even put them there. My biggest concern is that they've been there since 1935 and millions and millions of people never even noticed or cared if they did notice them. And that's the scariest thing about my having to be an Earthling the second time around. Being so easily deceived and controlled, over and over again. And being surrounded by people who just don't give a hoot.

It's no way to treat your fellow citizens and certainly no way to run a planet.

"Pennsylvania Power Walk"

Science fiction author Michael Casher was a Martian in his previous life. But now the real "Little Green Man from Mars" is alive and well and living in Appalachia. And, after all these years on Earth, he still has trouble controlling those human legs. Maybe it's the Pennsylvania climate or maybe it's his age. Or maybe it's just those damn dollar-store sneakers.

Author's Note 09-17-13: I just re-uploaded this video for the third or fourth time since I posted it here because it wouldn't play on any browser this evening. Google periodically removes my uploaded videos for their perverse pleasure (why else would they do it?) and I have to re-upload them, whenever I happen to notice that they're not playing. Then they work again. Then Google (who owns and misuses Blogger and everything and everyone at Blogger) does it again on another blog. Just for fun. Then I chase my tail again. Then they get their rocks off again. Then we play a waiting game again. It's no way to run a planet.

TC