Thursday, November 13, 2014


Someone I know is convinced that a mutual acquaintance is a space alien. Despite the clear evidence that she is from Scotland. Well, perhaps not so clear; she speaks excellent English, and is fully intelligible. That's a lusus naturae for Scots. And a miracle almost like the second coming. But her rational friends know that she's from Scotland.
And a very kind person, too. Gentle.

He's remains convinced that she's a space alien. All space aliens claim they're from Scotland, it gives them automatic cover. People will assume, he says, that so-and-so is NOT a space alien, he or she is from Scotland; that explains the eccentric behaviour, colourful speech and mannerisms, and sometimes visible antennas. It's a "Scottish thing".
Scots don't have antennas, I keep telling him.
But apparently I don't know anything.

I've got to stop encouraging the nutballs. It's like living in a zoo.

San Francisco is the catch-basin of the continental United States.
All the crazy flowed downhill.

We need to demand that the rest of the country take back all their defective specimens. We don't want them, and they'll add to the diversity in dishwater places like Mississippi and Oklahoma.
Where they need people who think different.
We've got plenty of those.

All of you convinced that space aliens live among us, go home.

The mothership is bringing us more Scots.
They've been pooped out by Zirtek.
My haggis just grew antennas.
It's a sign.

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