WHY MARS IS UNINHABITABLE

One of the people with whom I work went to Las Vegas for a convention recently. This is not uncommon. I myself would never go to Las Vegas for any other reason, and in fact I've only been there once. The credit reporting organization to which the company where I worked at that time belonged was required to attend four out of six meetings a year, one of which was in Vegas. I was the designated victim.

There is something stark raving mad about sending credit department decision makers to a gambling paradise where dissipation and serious stupidity are sanctioned. The Marketing Department also went there -- several times -- and one of their key members was a week late returning to the office because he was arrested for hijacking a golf cart and going on a mad ride with it down the strip. While drunk out of his gourd. I do not know if he was naked at the time, but I suspect that he was. Big, pink, and grateful for nightfall, because otherwise he'd blister into a purulent mass under the hot sun.

The next two years the 'Western Region Credit Meeting' was held at Fisherman's Wharf. As the only San Francisco resident, I damned well insisted that I go. You still owe me for Vegas. The food was lousy in that hotel, TWO whole nights, listening to blather from Midwesterners, and the ONLY reason to play the slots is that if you do, the beverages are gratis when you play the machines built into the bar. Which I did. Two drinks cost me less than the roll of quarters. Very likely the other credit wallahs did exactly the same thing.

Drawing inspired by 1950s magazine covers.

Mars does NOT need women. If it's anything like Las Vegas, there are huge mammary glands all over the place. The Marketing Department boys will love it.
Please exile them to Mars.


I have not been to any of the other casino hot spots in the world. From what I understand, big breasts and bad food are rife there. So, like the Red Planet, they aren't strictly speaking environments in which I would thrive. Diplomatically understated secondary sexual characteristics of either gender and plenty of very nice things to eat are ideal.
And NO golf carts. They attract drunken frat boys and party blondes.

There are no tea parlours with attached libraries where one may smoke on Mars. Which sounds like all of Europe, except for Germany, where they are resisting the anti-tobacco dictats of the health-nazis in Brussels manfully.
Well, as much as possible.

In Brussels, political decisions are made in vegan-filled back rooms.
It's like Sweden, without rampant alcoholism.
Rigid ideology thrives.



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