The Other Rapture Story

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The Good-Bye Goose

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Your Summer Reading

I know it's only early May but, for me, school's already out for the summer. That means I need a big break from blogging. A permanent break. So, here's your summer reading. Sorry, I couldn't make it a vertical list but the new Blogger interface makes it impossible to add a picture (like me) to a post and have justified paragraphs and centered lists at the same time.

Last year I could do that but now I can't. Well, I'm finally done blogging here at Blogger.com — and everywhere else on the Internet — and all these posts will soon be incorporated into an updated Kindle eBook, replacing the old Four Bloggers of the Apocalypse. Then this blog will be a maintained for as long as I can maintain it. My sidebar and footer content may change but I don't intend to write new posts. Now you see why I desperately need a long summer vacation. I feel like a half-dead horse that's still being beaten. OK, here's your summer reading list:

A Man for No Seasons, Animals Do Fall Down, Making Holes in Fish, Noisemakers, Secret Scribes, Summer Food

Another reason I'll be giving up blogging is because Google has screwed up the Blogger interface so bad that it now takes me almost two hours to write and post a single entry. Blogger was the best blogging platform on the Web and now it's the worst, thanks to Google, who couldn't care less what I think. Well, I've got other things to do. In fact, just about anything else. Google screwed up Blogger, YouTube and Picasa, by buying them and then bitching them up. Even the Chrome browser is bitched up. It can't process Shockwave data AT ALL. But, if you don't use Google's Chrome browser, you won't be able to use Blogger, YouTube or Picasa without a shitload of log-in and other problems. What horseshit. Let me parrot a great Nineties line: I'm outta here.

And, yep, it's almost impossible to control the fonts on your blog posts. Notice how the first paragraph of this post is one line too low. That happens a lot, on a lot of my blog, regardless of the template I use. I can't fix it, either. It seems to me that Google puts in whatever saves them space on their servers. Pooh on that crap. And, yep, you got it, Jack. This is my last post. Too bad. It could have been a lot of fun.

Pooh On Nibiru

If you ever wondered why I never made a podcast before, just listen to my voice. If you think that's awful, you're lucky you're just seeing a publicity photo of me and not the real thing fidgeting and squirming around on camera. I don't know how to do subtitles or I would have. And I didn't want to do this podcast through YouTube — where I could add cool annotations that people can read while they're trying to figure out what the hell I'm yapping about — because then YouTube would own my ass. Being trapped in Appalachia is bad enough.

So, let me walk you through the toughest parts. Toward the end of this video I'm saying things like, "Don't make any more room in the garage for tents and stuff. And don't dig out any more of the basement. Take yourself out to lunch. Take the kids to the movies. Buy your dog another dish." OK? If that doesn't help, just use your headphones. Or just skip this post altogether. That's what your scroll bar is for. See what I mean? I'm not trying to sell you a thing. I'm just giving you my opinion since I doubt very much that an opinionated former Martian is something you can just whistle up, like a dog, whenever you're in the mood. 

"And like that," as Kojak used to say.

Meteor!

That's right, I'm not showing my face today because I'm hiding in the basement. I'm hiding down here in the basement today because I saw It Came From Outer Space on TV yesterday. I taped it off a classic TV station two years ago and watched it again today because I like those 1950's sci-fi B movies better than the computer-generated junk you get today. So then I got scared and then I hid in the basement. I suppose you want to know why.

OK, I know that wasn't a meteor in the movie It Came From Outer Space. It was an extraterrestrial spaceship. Man, those aliens must've been dumb if they had to get to Earth by blasting their way clear across space like they were shot out of a stupid cannon. Anyway, I'm hiding because I'm a former Martian. I'm a former Martian and I'll never forget that no matter how many Hershey bars I consume or how many cups of mountain-grown roasted coffee I drink or how many slices of pizza I eat. Especially while I'm watching my favorite old sci-fi B movies. Like Earth vs. the Flying Saucers, It Came From Outer Space, Invaders From Mars and Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman, one of my favorites. Anyway, Martians like me were afraid of meteors. So now you know.

Of course those movies weren't as good as Forbidden Planet or The War of the Worlds or even This Island Earth but during the routine cheesy parts you can make a quick trip to the fridge for a snack and not feel that you missed anything you haven't seen before. That's the real beauty of B movies, you know. You get stupid shit that would probably never happen in real life but it scares you just the same.

But, hey, I've been rerouted again by TV. What I'm here blogging about on my old Acer PC in my basement is meteors. The hell with spaceships. The hell with comets. Comets never hit planets (OK, except Jupiter) but meteors hit them all the time. Like big-ass burning bullets from the sky. Twice in my life I saw the night sky turn bright as day from meteors as big as Buicks hitting Earth's atmosphere and then burning up and scaring the bejeezus out of me before they hit the ground somewhere and when they find them, they're only as big as a softball or maybe a football. What a sneaky trick from outer space.

So, yeah, I'm here in the basement hiding out because I think there'll be a meteor shower tonight even though there's absolutely nothing on the news about one. But, hey, I'm no fool. Meteors are just like outta control people and mad dogs. They attack when you least expect it. So, if you want my advice, take cover. Hide in your basement. Take a sandwich with you.

Meteor Update!

I'm Not Food

One of the things I'll never get used to about living on Earth is being food for other animals. Every year I remember less and less about my former life on Mars but one thing I can tell you for sure is that we Martians were never served up as dinner for the lesser species on our planet. I suppose it's because we were all vegetarians but that's beside the point. Eating animals is bad enough without being eaten by them in return.

I know, I'm lucky that I've never been chomped on by a lion or a tiger or a bear but that still doesn't make planet Earth the Land of Oz. Every summer I'm on the breakfast, lunch and dinner menu of every insect within a mile of me. Sure, I can use insect repellant but who has the time to swab or spray on that stuff every time you head outdoors? And forget about taking a nap on the porch on this bug-infested sphere. The last time I dozed off on the glider I woke up about three pounds lighter and all of it blood. If I want to donate blood, I'll visit the Bloodmobile, thank you.

And who wants to swim in the ocean? Besides being salt water that you don't want in your mouth or stomach or eyes, it's full of really creepy, wiggly things and great big toothy things that think you were put on this Earth to be their supper. Screw that. Hell, I'll gladly give up eating them if they'll stop nibbling on me. But you can't make a deal with them because they have no clue what you're saying to them when you haul ass for the beach with jelly fish stings all over you. They think you're just going to McDonald's to fatten yourself up a little more for them.

Lakes are OK, now that the lampreys are under control but there are still eels. And water dogs (mud puppies) in Pennsylvania streams and catfish as big as rowboats in the Mississippi. Still, I can't imagine what it's like to jump into a lake or stream in Florida just to be tackled and spun dry and then drowned by an alligator because you just look so damn tasty. And they're only a fraction of the size of crocodiles in Africa and Australia who would down your ass in one gulp for an appetizer and then have Water Buffalo for the entree. And I cringe every time I think about being swallowed whole by a python, wondering if I'd suffocate to death before I dissolved to death.

Here in Pennsylvania I only have to watch out for bears and coyotes and that's why I rarely go out in the woods or go hunting anymore. Oh, yeah, I always had a rifle or a shotgun when I went hunting but as I got older I worried about falling down or falling asleep or having a heart attack or a stroke and being alive and helpless as a pack of coyotes divvied me up for lunch

So, now I don't hunt anymore and I don't mountain bike or even walk wooded trails by myself, with or without the protection of a firearm. And I don't doze off on the chaise lounge on the patio anymore, either. I watch TV instead and drift right off after a nice meal or a little snack and I don't worry about being food for anyone or any thing. Besides, nothing could be a better sleep aid than a meal followed by a boring show on TV you use as company after you turn off the VCR or DVD player. That movie can wait.

The trick then is to not dream about being food or waking up with a crick in your neck or numb legs or chocolate drool on your shirt. Still, it's better than having to dress for the weather and a lot better than being on some carnivore's menu.

Little Green Man from Mars: The Blog

This is a promotional video for the Little Green Man from Mars blog.

Little Green Man from Mars: The Book

This is a promotional video for Michael Casher's sixth science fiction novel.

The Best of Tapper

Redneck raconteur "Tapper" doing what he does best.

For more Little Green Man videos click here

Deeds of Destiny

This is a promotional video for Michael Casher's fifth science fiction novel.

Beer Dogs

Almost every American kid likes to eat a hotdog, especially in the summertime and especially at a picnic. I never got to eat a hotdog at a baseball game because there weren't any ballparks in my area when I was growing up in the last century. But this post isn't about kids eating hotdogs. It's about grownups eating hotdogs. A different kind of hotdog. The kind you eat in October.

I called them "sour dogs' because they were served with sauerkraut on top of them and lots of yellow mustard on top of that. And they were washed down with beer. Lots of beer. Sour dogs were definitely not summer picnic hotdogs or ballpark hotdogs or any kind of hotdog that a kid would want to eat, even though some kids would eat them. Without the beer, of course.

By the time I was a middle-aged man totally addicted to pizza and Mexican food, my favorite holiday was Oktoberfest, the way Americans celebrated it. The main attractions in a Pennsylvania Oktoberfest were the "beer dogs", the beer that made them taste even better and the polkas that were an integral part of most European-American traditions. In Pennsylvania, where German-Americans were more prevalent and comfortable than just about any other place in America, Oktoberfest was an autumn rite of passage.

I never liked "beer dogs" when I was a kid because I never liked sauerkraut when I was a kid. When I was a kid, sauerkraut looked, smelled and tasted like old cabbage that should have been thrown out weeks ago. But, as a grown man, I found all that nauseating stuff suddenly very appealing. That's what being a grownup is all about. Liking things that kids hate and hating things that kids like. There's nothing wrong with that. This is Earth, after all, where up has been down and wrong has been right — and vice versa — since the dawn of man. No use fighting it.

Of course, all the grownups at a Pennsylvania Oktoberfest always forget that the real reason they're celebrating is because all the crops are now in the barn or sold to the farmer's market and especially that all the hay has been baled. I was going to call this post "Hay Dogs" but I didn't want to steal the thunder from the remake of "Straw Dogs" that just hit the theaters. Thank you, but I'll stick to the original version with Dustin Hoffman and David Warner. Great acting can never be replaced by nastiness and special effects. Not now and not ever. But there I go getting off the track again.

And, oh yeah, hotdog lovers all over America had to put a couple more sad but true facts out of their minds or there would have never been any American Oktoberfests at all. This was the reality that sauerkraut was, indeed, nothing more than rotten old cabbage and hotdogs were mostly cow lips and udders and beer wasn't even fit to drink. That's why it smelled like urine and tasted like stump water. Another kid dislike that grownups, and especially Appalachian men, found terribly addictive.

No, I don't drink beer anymore but I can't resist a whole pot full of "sour dogs" every October. And when they're all gone I set my sights on New Year's, when I can do it all over again, and this time with lots of pork thrown in. Let's face it, we're all stuck here on this big, blue, green and brown marble. Might as well taste as much of it as we can before they send us someplace else.

Tapper 4

It's hard to believe, but redneck raconteur Tapper actually agreed to a fourth interview by his bartender friend, Bert. Some people will do anything for their fifteen minutes of fame.

Dirty bastard bartender Bert promised not to get Tapper's face in the video this time. That's why the picture is so dark. Bert's not really being nice. It just seems that way. Tapper told Bert that if he gets his face in another video he'd "knock him through himself".

Wow, we don't even want to think about what that would look like.

"Tapper 4"
a Little Green Man video

Lunatoid

Remembering my former life on Mars is always a bummer because being a Martian was so much nicer than being an Earthling. When I was from Mars I wasn't really little and green, you know. I was salmon-colored and stood 7 feet, 4 inches tall at age 75 (Earth Years), which is thirty-something by Earth standards. Martians didn't measure age in Martian years or any other years because we Martians lived in the present. For us, every day was today and every time was now.

However, I had expected to live to be 200 or more but when I was only 75 (Earth Years) Planet X (Nibiru) passed between Earth and Mars, destroying the planet Xerxes with its powerful gravitational pull and turning it into an asteroid belt. Nibiru's gravitational wake also caused such massive eruptions in the crust of our beautiful red, green and blue planet that the hot, molten core spewed out and evaporated our seas and rivers and lakes. When the steam finally cleared, there was only a trace of salt water flowing down the massive gorges that Earthlings call "canals". But they aren't "canals". They're breaches in our planet's crust caused by the transient proximity of the 10th planet Nibiru. Holes that tapped our molten core and turned Mars into a dusty red rock.

But I'm getting off the track, as usual. Whenever I can manage to remember myself as a seven-foot-four Martian who was still twenty years away from Martian mid-life, I usually get so mad that I'm currently this little "pink" man from Earth who's barely five-foot-eight, that I temporarily blow a fuse and forget what I'm doing. Hmmm. Now I remember.

It's bad enough that I'm an Earthling shrimp now instead of a towering Martian without having to be referred to as a "little green man from Mars". That's not my idea, as you are well aware. That's a stupid misconception of mid-20th Century Earthling thinking that Hollywood and the comic books made a bundle from by perpetuating that myth for payola. Crap, I'm getting off the track again.

OK. I'm getting back on track now. Yeah, it's bad enough that the Earthling vessel in which my immortal life essence currently dwells (a human being) is trying to parlay that "little green man" myth into mucho moola so he can buy recliners and ice cream and cigars and things like that for himself. But now the little opportunist has my "mythical" image inside a freaking moon. Yeah, instead of on Mars. Yeah. Now I'm some new kind of celestial body that only a disturbed mind could create. A "lunatoid" created by an independent lunatic. What's next?

Hell, I don't know which is worse. Being misrepresented by an ambitious lunatic for the comical amusement of blog readers or having your life activity reduced to being a moron from the moon who looks like he just loves to have his picture taken. Either way, I'm certainly no magnificent seven-foot-four Martian from the past anymore. Hell, I'd just rather be the little five-foot-eight indie author S. O. B. that I really am this time around. But, hell, no one seems to be happy with that scenario. So, I guess I'll just keep playing along for now.

Playing games for money sure beats the pants off wallowing in the past for nothing.

Green TV

July at Little Green Man from Mars is dedicated to the videos made by Little Green Man. Click on the picture below for our "Green TV" special. We'd call it a "Marathon" but there are only five videos. So, there you go.

Author's Note 8-8-12: Since this post was written four videos has been added to the Little Green Man page at Junk TV. That makes nine videos in all. Still, that's no marathon, compared to Andy Griffith or I Love Lucy, if you get our drift.

Support Your Local Blogger

Help keep Little Green Man from Mars up and running. If you appreciate all the anecdotes, stories, videos and commentary you can read here and on his other eight blogs, then support the author by purchasing one of his books. Little Green Man, Baby Boomer Boy, Fred Fortune, Jonco Bugos, Mike the Obscure and Michael Casher thank you for your patronage.

Author's Note 12-27-12: The book covers in this flash image were replaced by new covers in 2012. Additionally, I kept this post as a piece of online history, even though its contents are no longer relevant, because this blog is now part of a book. Go here for an explanation about why this post is no longer relevant and why Michael Casher no longer blogs on a regular basis and why he no longer writes this blog. That's right, supporting your local blogger is a moot point now. Too bad. It could have been a lot of fun.