I, Mayor-by-Birthright-for-Life, Alexandra Jones, claim Kepler 62-e for Goof City. CALLED IT! It has a special atmosphere in which people who are taking themselves too seriously automatically evaporate, to return when they can again laugh at themselves and the world and admit there is nothing more important than peace and harmony among the citizens of our planet.
62-e will be Keplerious and Keplerlicious! It is a land of happy children: Michael and Ricardo, Eduardo, Johnkin, Dexter and Axel and the whole goofy Kepler gang.
Source: MrRbyj and the gang
We’re going to get this one right, people. We won’t take anything for granted. Our No. 1 priority will be to honor and sustain the earth’s live-giving resources, not exploit and destroy them. There will be no highways, overpasses, garages, parking lots, oil wars, cloverleafs, gas stations, because there will be no cars. We will share space with all inhabitants, Keplerian, human and animal, and not trespass upon them or usurp their innate right to live as free women, men, and animals. Respect and gratitude will be the order of the day. There will be no war, and no word for war, because as soon as that shit starts, you evaporate! It’s impossible for conflict to manifest. I can’t really say where you go when you cease to be goofy–you might call it Worryland, the Anxiety Annex, hell, the “real world,” or the Other Side.
By the way, why did the chicken kill itself?
To get to the other side.
But we goofs know that Goof City is the real real world. The rest is a bunch of posturing bullshit, red tape, power plays, smog checks, factory explosions, shootings and bombings. People on this planet we call Earth, for the most part, do not know how to cohabit productively for the advancement of humankind. The so-called leaders lead you down the garden path, and it is not the Garden of Eden. It is the intersection of what’s in it for me and screw you.
But Kepler 62-e will be overrun by sustainable gardens with lush and abundant offerings for all who pass–peaches the size of melons, cucumbers like baguettes, waterfalls of honey. The economy will be based on happiness and good will–the desire of all to provide for all. People will follow their natural bent as to how to best contribute to the Keplerian community. Bakers, gardeners, seamstresses, artists will awaken to a day of pursuing their bliss. Essential services will be provided by those whose joy resides in the smooth operation of systems–engineers and clean freaks and jacks-of-all-trades.
Utopia? Rather, just enough goofiness to hold things together. And people are going to want to stay goofy, because it’s a long trip back to Earth–a light year is nearly 6 trillion miles, and 62-e is 1,200 light years away. That’s 7.2e15 miles–a number so big I don’t even know if it’s a number.
Would it get boring? Doesn’t one eventually get tired of just goofing around? Easy peasy. Evaporate! Or stay behind, your choice. Today is 4/20, and earthlings are gathering at Hippie Hill in a cloud of mellow camaraderie. If I could address them all, I would cede the floor to Michael Rennie.
But he’s not here so I clear my throat and ask the crowd:
People of Earth…where are my reading glasses?
What are we doing here? Everyone asks that some point. Not just here, the entire extant human race somehow shoehorned into Golden Gate Park . But on this planet, and in this universe. And who am I? Well, I’m nobody. And anybody. And everybody. I am you and you are I. I am a citizen of the planet earth. We all have that in common, whatever race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, provenance, heritage. That is undeniable. At the root of our existence, we are born equal, as human beings.
As we grow, we and those around us differentiate ourselves from others. That’s when the trouble starts. When we start messing with each other because of all the other things we are. When people stop talking and seeing each other as human beings but as representatives of some group we’ve been taught to hate, or been segregated from. People instinctively gather together–for companionship, to make work easier, to combine resources, to be with others of their kind. Uh, can you pass that pipe up here?
People usually do gather in groups of their own kind, often just because they’re nearby. People who are born in one region of the world with its own climate, topography and resources find each other, develop languages, customs and belief systems. When we encounter differences, within our group or in others, we may experience fear and over-react in how we regard or treat those we don’t understand. And this is all happening on one rotating, orbiting chunk of rock we all share. The more of us there are, the less there is to go around. Remember, your garbage disposal eats better than 2/3rds of your fellow earthlings. Challenging, to say the least. And we are on the verge…yes, we are, of losing it all. To greed. But it’s not too late, I say it’s not too late…for you and me and Michael and Ricardo and Eduardo and Johnkin and Dexter and Axel to join hands and build a new world of cooperation and well-being.
So, come on, people, now, smile on each other, everybody get together, try to love one another right now. Right now! Right now! And don’t forget to recycle.
See you in 7.2e15 miles!
KEPLER IS SO GOOD! Keplerlicious!Continue Reading »
and in the meantime is in a fugue state. I can’t be held accountable for any damages or injuries to, or loss of, your mind while visiting Goof City.
I will soon regain control of my URL.
HAPPY NEW YEAR AND NEW AGE!Continue Reading »
This Day in Goofery
1863: Birth of Annie Jump Cannon
As if the name Annie Jump Cannon is not cool enough, the woman was an astronomer. Annie Jump Cannon, Astonomer. Boo-yah! Star-gazer and trail blazer, she was nicknamed “Census Taker of the Sky” for classifying 230,000 stellar bodies. Working as one of “Pickering’s Harem,” under Edward Charles Pickering, Director of the Harvard College Observatory, she created the Harvard Classification Scheme, organizing stars based on their temperatures and dividing them into the spectral classes, O B A F G K M, leading to the delightful mnemonic, “Oh Be A Fine Girl, Kiss Me.”
Pickering hired women so he could get twice the staff for half the price. They earned between 25 and 50 cents an hour.
Here is a ready-made Wiki-list of her achievements.
- In 1925 she received the first honorary doctorate Oxford University ever awarded to a woman.
- In 1929 the National League of Women Voters listed her as one of the 12 “greatest living American women.”
- In 1931 she was awarded the Henry Draper Medal from the National Academy of Sciences.
- In 1932 she was awarded the Ellen Richards Prize.
- First woman to be elected an officer of the American Astronomical Society.
- In 1938 was named the William Cranch Bond Astronomer at Harvard.
- She classified more stellar bodies than any other person, male or female.
- The Annie Jump Cannon Award in Astronomy has been awarded annually by the American Astronomical Society to a woman astronomer in North America since 1934.
- The lunar crater Cannon is named after her.
- Cannon Hall, a residence dormitory at the University of Delaware is named in her honor.
This Day in Goofery
1896: Death of Alfred Nobel
Alfred Nobel, inventor of dynamite–and apparently conscience-stricken about it–established the Nobel Prize in his will, to be awarded “to those persons who shall have contributed most materially to the benefit of mankind during the year immediately preceding.” When his brother Ludwig died in 1888, a French newspaper mistakenly ran an obituary for Alfred instead, which called him the “merchant of death.”
That didn’t sit well with him and to atone for this reputation he established the Nobel Prize as a reward for the inventors, creators and peacemakers of humanity. Dynamite made Nobel one of the world’s richest men–but a fat lot of good it did his relatives. “Inherited wealth,” said he, “is a misfortune which merely serves to dull man’s faculties.” So I guess if he had been your rich uncle, you’d have to win one of his prizes to see any of his money.
Nobel was a trained chemist who had opened a factory in Sweden to manufacture nitroglycerin, which factory blew up in 1864, killing a number of people including his younger brother Emil. Soon after he developed the relatively safer dynamite, and though it was an inherently destructive product, he saw it as a tool for peace as well. “The day when two army corps can annihilate each other in one second, all civilized nations, it is to be hoped, will recoil from war and discharge their troops.”
Yes, it was to be hoped. Boy was he wrong! More than a century later, troops are still discharging weapons. And his invention led to a side effect he could never have anticipated:
Just in case you were wondering what’s so goofy about dynamite…Continue Reading »
This Day in Goofery
1944: Birth of Neil Innes
Neil Innes is a British singer/songwriter, philosopher/poet, actor/writer and goof, separated at birth from Canadian goof Scott Thompson.
A man who not only imagined what his tinned cat food might say if it could talk, but filmed a song and dance about it.
Cut meat, cut meat,
In your tin
Did you once walk around like me?
If you could only speak
What would you say anyway?
“I was a sheep’s head”
“And I was its lung”
“And I was the liver in a horse”
Let’s do the Cat Meat Conga!
Innes has been a professional goof since the early sixties, writing and performing songs with the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, the GRIMMS, and The Beatles parody band The Rutles.
The Rutles are a legend. A living legend. A legend that will live long after other living legends have died….A legend that will last a lunchtime.”
- All You Need is Cash, The Rutles Documentary
Terry Gilliam called him “The Seventh Python.” Innes wrote the soundtrack to Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and appeared in the film as a head-bashing monk, the serf crushed by the wooden rabbit, the leader of Sir Robin’s minstrels, and page #4. He tells audiences, “I’ve suffered for my music; now it’s your turn.” He’s currently touring with the Idiot Bastard Band.
Like many a goof, Innes is by turns poignant and profound, poetic and political.
Oh I don’t know why
True love turns out to be the stuff
Between hello and goodbye
‘Tis the season, so I’ll leave you with this holiday food for thought:
Dear Father Christmas
with your white, fluffy whiskers
instead of just a letter I am writing you a song this year
Its not for the money
I’m not being funny
It’s for something else to do with what we call the season of good cheer
Dear Father Christmas
Can I ask for this much?
How about some love and understanding in this world?
Peace between each nation
An end to all starvation
If only for the sake of every boy and every girl
Dear Father Christmas
I know it’s good for business
But haven’t we enough atomic bombs to kill us all?
A thousand time over
The world could be in clover
If only greedy people didn’t think so goddamn small
ps: Father Christmas
For my brothers and my sisters
Give them all a happy time, and teach them how to get along
Though it’s just a Christmas single
With lots of bells that jingle
I hope someday the world will never have to hear this kind of song
Dear Father Christmas
With your white, fluffy whiskers
here’s lots of love and kisses.
Here’s lots of love and kisses from the goofs at Goof City, Neil Innes; we’re glad you were born–you goof for all seasons and reasons.Continue Reading »