It has come to my attention that there has been a bit of a lull in posts from the Orange. I apologize to my faithful readers.

No, I don’t. I almost died! Kicked the bucket. Jumped the shark into eternity. Fell into the black depths of oblivion.

Let’s see you have open heart surgery and write something. But now I am all patched up. Of course, I am now a post-modern human with a mechanical heart valve and a prosthetic aorta.

Not a man. Not a machine. Just something in between. Whooooaaaaaoooooo.

Putting on the ritz!

I’ll be back.

I can’t recall Robocop saying anything memorable, but it has been a while since I have seen that movie. I just remember it was in Detroit. And Detroit was a giant dumpster fire in the future. Apparently, the future is now.

Speaking of science and dumpster fires, I see the Republicans are continuing their assault on education, particularly education that comes in these antiquated little squares known as books. Like the leaders of Gilead, they appear to want to make sure that nobody knows nothing. Just a nation of Sergeant Schultz’s from sea to shining sea. With bad German accents.

If you’ll recall, Bob Crane is the actor who played Hogan in Hogan’s Heroes. He was a fellow with eclectic interests. One of these interests was videotaping and photographing his many sexual escapades. Believe it or not, that interest turned out badly for Bob. His partner in these escapades allegedly ended up bludgeoning Bob to death with a camera tripod. It was never proved. In fairness, when you videotape sex acts, you tend to make a lot of potential enemies. Something about kissing and telling. Who knows? Luckily, we now have access to any kind of pornography that one can imagine. If only Bob would have been born later. Then he would still be alive. So would the guy who played Sergeant Schultz. And Beethoven. Beethoven was another German. Though he died in Austria, where Hitler was born.

Hitler was a guy who enjoyed burning books. Except for Mein Kampf. That one was okey dokey. He wrote Mein Kampf while in prison for trying to overthrow the government. It makes me wonder if the QAnon Shaman has any literary aspirations. Rage of the Buffalo by QA Shaman. What a dummy. It’s a bison, not a damned buffalo.

Speaking of Buffalo, why are they called the Bills? But have a bison on their helmet. Shouldn’t the mascot be a letter from the electric company? Or a fat guy from the suburbs? (A guy named Bill.A plumber, perhaps. Then the helmet could have a fat guy bending over and showing the crack in his ass).

As a sidebar, I see I have already outlived Bob Crane. And I am closing fast on Beethoven. It appears Beethoven died from liver damage caused by heavy alcohol consumption. Only a few more years and I’ll defeat him. Do you hear me, Ludwig?!!

Sadly, Beethoven could not hear me.

Anyway, I continue on in my present form, this leg of my atomic cosmic journey elongated by the powers of science. (There is an elongated leg and Bob Crane joke in there somewhere, but I prefer to refrain from any vulgarities). Of course, this incarnation of the Orange must eventually end. On the other hand, if they can keep my heart going with spare parts, perhaps this ending can be extended a bit. I am not opposed to being more cyborg than man. Better yet, scientists are now growing biological parts in the lab. Maybe I will be able to swap out failing parts for new and improved models, grown from my own DNA.

Some of you might also take advantage of this nascent technology. Just imagine living to 184, telling Bob Crane jokes to people who have never even heard of Beethoven. How you will smirk at their ignorance.

Weakling biological fools. Bow to your cyborg masters.

“Drop it! You’re coming with me, dead or alive.”

“I know you! We killed you!”

Heh heh heh. And then you say “you don’t even know who Bob Crane is, do ya punk?” And shoot down the bad guy with your laser hands.

Unless the Republicans find a way to keep everyone from going to school. Then we will all just be Amish and smell of body odor and cow shit. Though, if you are a man, women will have to bow before you. You will be the cyborg of Amish-land. Elijah Cyborgia can be your Amish name. Or Bob Crane. Up to you.