In response to an audio trivia question the other night, I wrote “Nobody Knows” by the Beach Boys.  This was stupid.  The song’s title is “God Only Knows.”  In fairness, Nobody and God are pretty much interchangeable, but I have made a promise to myself to avoid both politics and religion in the future.  Unless I hear a really good joke about Donald Trump, a rabbi, and a Buddhist monk.  Then all bets are off.  Nothing is cast in stone around here.

The reason I missed the question is because from childhood I actually thought the song was titled “Nobody Knows.”  Oh, how I would sing in those naive days of youth.

“Nobody knows what I think about you.”  I could have been Brian Wilson’s illegitimate son.

Regardless, despite learning the real name of the song, my brain went back to what I had learned as a child.  There is probably some sort of scientific name for this psychological phenomenon.  But I am too lazy to Google it right now.  Let’s just call it Phuchupasteria; defined as the inability to  differentiate real song lyrics from those that you have created in your own mind.

“Wrapped up like a douche,” anyone?

“Your money for nothing and your chicks for free.”  It’s “checks.”  I did Google that.  I’m not always lazy.  Only when it is easier to make up psed0-scientific words.

Photogenesis.  Myostochomotomy.  Creationism.

I lasted just under 200 words.  I have no self control.  It is probably something to do with my diet.  Victualmetaphysicalspasmosis.  Spell that, you little Indian children.

I know it’s not a real word.  Yet.  You know what shouldn’t be real?  Semi-colons.  I used one above just to show how ridiculous they are.  That is known as punctuation satire.  Who in the hell invented a damn semi-colon?  Whoever it was, they were truly a pedantic asshole.  Probably someone with a Dickensian name and a rheumatic constitution.  Mr. Withcherpicketts.  Of Worcestershire Lane.  In Dickering Dale.

Well, Mr. Witcherpicketts, your punctuation mark is a fraud.  Either use a period.  Stop.  Or a comma.  Pause.  Not stop/pause.  One sentence or two.  Make up your damn mind.  Mr. Witchpicketts is a clear case of what I like to call Vacillationary Dysfunctional Syndrome.  Or VDS.

Nevertheless, as long as I live I will not forget that the Beach Boys have a song called “God Only Knows.”

It was on the album with “Goat Vibrations.”

I am only kidding.  Hahahahahaha.  Get it?  Kid-ding.

It’s a baby goat, genius.

Goat Vibrations would also make a good band title.  Or name a syndrome often seen in rural areas of Appalachia.

Woooeeeeeewooooo-oooooo!  Woooeeeeeeeeewooooo-000000!

I was watching one of the Resident Evil movies the other day.  It doesn’t matter which.  The plot is pretty static.  Milla Jovovich fights zombies and corrupt corporate zombie-makers.  Anyway, while watching I noticed that the Resident Evil zombies are very fast.  At least as fast as living humans.  Certainly, they are much faster than the “brains, brains” zombies of my youth.  To be fair, everything moved slower in those days.  Take Jason Vorhees, for example.  He only fast-walked his victims down.  His strides were very long, but still he was a creature who knew how to smell the roses while he massacred people.

The thing with zombies (be they fast or slow) is that they really shouldn’t be that much of a problem.  I know, some are more frightening than others (like those teeth clacking zombies in the Tom Cruise movie).  Even so, they are pretty much single-minded automatons.  How difficult would it be to round them up and then obliterate thousands at a time?  The answer is not difficult at all.  In fact, in many zombie worlds they are already milling around in mass quantities.  Just bomb the hell out of them or take a tank and mash them to pieces.  I watched Fury.

“Guten tag, zombie bastards.”

A good zombie eradicator could probably destroy a thousand zombies a day.  And maybe there are hundreds of millions of zombies, but they still have a finite number.  Moreover, one can assume that zombies who cannot find brains will, after a time, fall over from malnutrition.  At the very least, their legs will become so damaged that they will become, for all intents and purposes, inert as carrots.  If carrots had rotting flesh and could make simple, guttural utterances.

“I taste much better with peas,” says the zombie carrot.  I’ll name him Howard.  Howard, the zombie carrot.  Also a good band name.  And, if there is one thing the world needs right now, it is some good band names.  Come on, Millenials.  How hard is it?  Where is the next “Toad the Wet Sprocket?”  I’ll even settle for a “Flock of Seagulls” at this point.

So, you get rid of all the zombies concentrated in the cities and 90 percent of your problem is eliminated.  The stragglers could be phased out over time by squads led by zombie-sniffing dogs.  Dogs can learn to sniff anything.  Really, the zombie is a pretty pedestrian threat.  Low tech, disorganized, single-minded.  Kind of like Evangelicals without the bad hair and make-up.

Conversely, alien invaders are a much more sinister potential threat.  In fact, if a real alien invasion took place we would quickly become slaves or food (depending on the flavor of the alien).  If you think technological superiority isn’t important, ask the American Indian.  Ghost dances and arrows wouldn’t do much against laser beams shot from twenty miles away.  On the other hand, if we were able to make friends with the aliens (we could be the Lenny to the alien George), a death ray would come in mighty handy in dealing with loose zombies.

This should not get your hopes up, however.  If aliens are anything like human beings, their intentions will be purely selfish and unlikely to bode well for our future.  And, as I mentioned, we would be powerless to stop them.  Movies like Independence Day are the psychological equivalent of whistling past the graveyard.  If you look up one day and see the Mothership, it is curtains for all of us.

There will be nothing we can do or say to save ourselves.  My personal last words?

“I taste much better with peas.”

Leave those alien bastards laughing, if nothing else.

The other day, a Wisconsin state senator said that the world is 6000 years old.  “That’s a fact.”  In fairness, this man was raised by a pastor and he has no college education, but even so this seems a fairly ignorant thing to say.  Later, he complained that he was being unfairly picked on for a difference of opinion.

Unfortunately, this senator does not understand the difference between opinions, fiction and facts.  For example, if I say that Ryan Seacrest is a snappy dresser, that is an opinion.  If I say Ryan Seacrest is a hermaphroditic walrus, that is a fiction.  Similarly, if I say a man once lost his strength from a haircut, that is a fiction.  Your hair doesn’t make you strong.  Otherwise, Mr. Clean would be feeble and helpless, like a giant baby.

The root of this issue, of course, lies in one of the great failings of human existence.  Stupid people often don’t understand that they are stupid.  If you doubt this, observe the behaviors of drivers at four way stops.  People clearly do not know the rules of the four way stop.  Yet, that does not prohibit them from flying the bird at people whose turn it is to go.

Anyway, I would like to point out some issues with the world only being 6,000 years old, if only to fly my own metaphorical bird at the ignorance of such a statement.

1- Dinosaurs are off the table.  Those fossils must have been planted there.  Probably by Satan.  Or Loki.  One of those guys, anyway.

2- Everything we have learned about DNA is wrong.  Back to the drawing board on that one.  No wonder OJ got off.

3- Petrified wood is an illusion, most likely planted by Communist heathens.

4- Atomic theory is a sham.  Especially that stuff about half life.  If they only are reduced by half a life, how will they ever die?  Dumb.  My computer is the work of tiny little angels, transmitting my messages to the rest of the world.

5- Fossils of early hominids are a sham.  There were never any Neanderthals or Homo Habilis or those little Hobbit people in Java.  More plants.  Satan is never idle.

6- Plate tectonic theory is a sham.  The continents can’t move.  Earthquakes are also a sham.  I’ve never experienced one here in Wisconsin.

7- Stars don’t exist.  They are merely jewels placed on a velvet background.  Who placed these jewels?  Angels, of course.  There are also no blackholes (sham), no neutron stars (heresy), and the Earth is actually the center of the universe.  I don’t want to hear about red shift and blue shift.

8- There was no big bang.  As there are no other galaxies, it should be obvious that there was no need for a big bang.  Simple as that.

9- Woolly mammoths don’t exist.  I don’t care what they find up there in Siberia.  Those are just hairy elephants.  If they are even real.  Which they probably aren’t.  Like earthquakes.

10- The fossils in the walls of the Grand Canyon are actually pictures drawn by angels.  Or Satan.  Though Satan is technically an angel, so I am right either way.

11- There is no evolution.  Flu shots are a sham.  There aren’t little unseen pathogens.  People who get sick are merely possessed by the devil.  How could a fish turn into a frog?  Fish can’t breathe air.

Lungfish aren’t real.  No.  Mudskippers aren’t real, either.  Fact and fact.

12-Mr. Clean is an insidious character designed to dupe the public into accepting homosexuality.  What real man cleans the house?  That is work for a woman.  It is their punishment for Eve’s wrongdoing.

Of course, that is only my opinion.