On the




Mars Man

Back on the beach for Memorial Day, a guy with a turban and another with a kippah strolled through the sand in our direction. Miraculously, they were walking friendly together, both in swim trunks and a towel in their hands.

“We’re in the hotel there,” said the fellow with the turban when I asked him where they were from.

“Yeah, great place,” the man with the kippah confirmed.

“You go swimming with those hats on?” Sue asked, laughing.

They ignored Sue’s question, probably thinking she was stupid.

“Heard about the flotilla?” Pete inquired.

“Oh yeah, the usual,” the turban guy said. “Everybody’s playtime.”

“You don’t think it’s serious?” Sue asked.

“Rubbish,” the turban guy snorted. “TV fodder.”

“Don’t you think the Israeli’s were too harsh climbing on these boats? Ten people got killed. It was all humanitarian stuff,” Pete said.

“You mind if we sit down?” the turban guy asked, turning to me.

“Sure not,” I said, invitingly. “My name’s Mars Man, just call me Mars. This is Kathryn, my wife, he’s son Pete and she’s daughter Sue.”

“I’m Taher,” the turban fellow said.

“I’m Aaron,” followed the kippah man.

We shook hands.

“It’s show boat stuff, you know,” Taher continued, nestling down in the sand. “They knew what they were getting into. The humanitarian freight was not the purpose. They wanted to embarrass and make a point and, of course, they knew the whole world would be blaming Israel if they didn’t get through. The real killers are the flotilla organizers; they should’ve known better, but took the risk anyway.”

“You must be a pretty liberal Muslim for saying that,” Kathryn scoffed. “Normally your side always screams loudest when someone does it  to you.”

“Taher’s right,” Aaron said. “Either we board and stop the flotilla, as we told them we would, and we’d be castigated by the UN, or if we didn’t, we’d be called wimps and next time they’d bring in humanitarian tanks and weapons, and nobody in the UN would raise a finger in protest.”

“Everybody in the Mid-East and West, especially this Husain White House, is showing off his PC best again,” Sue ranted. “I’ve yet to see anybody on TV daring to play the same trick on an Arab country.”

“We’ve quite a few Arabs in Israel, you know, who don’t like those Gaza creeps,” Aaron said. “Taher is one of them.”

“Ah, I see,” Kathryn said, understandingly, “so you’re both from Israel.”

“Yes, we are,” Taher affirmed. “We have our internal differences but like any democratic country we solve them peacefully in the Knesset. Those Hamas guys are hotheads. If you don’t join them they shoot you, torture you or cut your head off. They can’t even govern. I don’t understand what that flotilla of peaceniks wanted to achieve.”

“Europe and the USA show increased anti-Semitism,” Aaron said. “Most Jews in the USA voted for the democrats in 2008 but they’re now finding out they got a cat in the bag. Now they’ve to turn the tide in November.”

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“If those overpaid striped suited UN nincompoops drag us before the Council,” Aaron growled, wagging his finger, “we’ll point at all the scuds and stuff that Iran and Syria send to Hezbollah for so-called peaceful use and the UN doesn’t even want to know about, even though everybody else does. This is not the time to be fuzzy with Gaza either.”

“Nothing will happen,” Taher said. “After all the TV and media stuff is done, people get bored and it’ll blow over again.”

“Till someone silly in Tehran blows the fuse,” Kathryn said.

“We won’t let that happen, Ma’am,” Aaron grumbled. “When they do, they won’t have a light to find a match. They know. We won’t wait for the USA. This Administration is rudderless. And forget about the UN. I think it’s time for a swim, Taher. Nice talking to you.”

Taher and Aaron got up and walked to the sea, shaking their heads.

“What do you think, Mars?” Kathryn asked. “Yes dad,” Pete and Sue joined in chorus, “what do you think?”

“Jews and Arabs are from the same breed but they quarrel like Cain and Abel. The family strife will never stop. Cain killed Abel out of jealousy. Israel is a sunshine state. Look at Palestine, let alone Gaza, what dumps despite all the aid they get. If Israel hadn’t been there, they would’ve been even worse-off. Earth has to rein in Cain, but if the USA doesn’t intervene, Abel may be killed again. And the West would never be the same.”

“War?” Pete asked.

“Eventually, I’m afraid so, son. If you want to preserve Kathryn’s Judeo-Christian roots, you’d better stand up for them.”

“More death, more Memorial Days,” Pete sighed.

“That’s the way of life on Mother Earth. Strife is the trump card.”




My mother earth kidzz, son Pete and daughter Sue, mocked me the other day when we were having a barbecue on the beach. Their earthly Mom, Kathryn, just sat by and smiled beautifully.

“You’re lucky you can change into a human skin,” Pete said. “You’d be picked up right away in your Mars costume.”

“You are lucky you’re born with a human skin and look like your earthly mother,” I retorted, “otherwise you’d be picked up right away yourself.”

“We didn’t choose to live here, you made us do that,” Pete said, a bit touchy.

“Anything wrong with that? You got a US passport,” I said in my defense.

“Just that our eyes look different. A bit like those Asians here,” Pete said, sounding wary.

“So what? You did MIT and Sue did Columbia Law and both of you live well. What are you picking at?”

“We always get looked at more carefully,” Sue entered the conversation, “either at the border or when boarding a plane. Yesterday when coming home, they put me through the scanner and all the alarm bells went off.”

“Did they find anything?” I asked, laughing.

“The woman at the scan fainted.”

“What for?” I couldn’t stop laughing.

“She said she didn’t see a body.”

“Well, maybe the machine’s fuse was busted.”

“No dad, there’s nothing on the screen when they scan us.”

“So, what did they do?” I asked, curious, still snickering.

“They sent another woman do a special on me, crotch included.”

“You liked it?” Pete asked, grinning mischievously.

“You shut up,” Sue hissed back. “It’s not funny. You do any profiling on Mars?”

“We all look alike,” I said, “and talk the same, electronic voices. Men have a funny pecker, women have a tight slit. That’s all there is.”

“Yeah, that’s the earthy problem here,” Pete said profoundly. “Different skins, eyes, noses. And some of those are bad news.”

“Would you profile on Mars if you had that problem?” Sue asked.

“Sure we would. Nobody enters Mars without an identity card and a sanity check, especially people from earth.”

“What would you do in Arizona?” Sue looked me straight in the eye.

“It’s a nice place. Dry and clean with remote places to land. Done it several times. I look like an Arizonan when I change and I have a US visa stamp in my passport. No problem. I’d do the same thing as they, profile like hell. What else can you do to stop those gate crashers?”

“They say on earth profiling is wrong, it’s racist.” Pete commented.

“So what?” I said. “A gate crasher is a gate crasher. We’d throw the bums out and let them float back into space. And if I know how most of them look, I’ll be looking for them hard and round them up if they can’t show their papers. What would you do at home? Invite them for dinner?”

“Everything is racist in America, or wherever in the world” Kathryn said.

“And those who cry racist are the worst,” Sue said.

“Here it started with the Indians,” Kathryn continued, “and it has only gotten worse. But look at Africa or Arabia, they are much worse than the USA.”

“Ever heard of the word PC?” Sue asked. “Politically correct; the synonym of hypocrisy and cowardice. Hate those people.”

“What would you do on Mars with all these different cultures?” Pete looked at me curiously.

“Multiculturalism’s what he means,” Kathryn explained.

“Oh, I don’t mind different cultures, colors, faces or languages,” I said. “We don’t have that on Mars and that makes our place a bit dull. Different music, art, dance and songs, I like to hear that when I’m here. It would be better if everyone stayed where they belong, but that has not happened for millions of years on this planet. But if you want to enter my territory, you need a valid identity card, or you get the hell out. That’s why I stand for Arizona, not the soft-pedaling US Government. What do they want, Babylon and a ruined bank account?”

“Do you agree, mom?” Sue asked.

“Who wouldn’t agree with the Mars Man?” Kathryn laughed.

“I do,” Sue said, “but I still need my hispanic Anita  to clean my apartment. No one else does, and surely not me.”


Views from the Alien Mars Man

You won’t believe it, but I am on Facebook now. My profile picture shows me sitting on a horse on a high rock in Petra, Jordan. It was the only place where we could land on the way down from Mars via Moon. I found an Arabian horse wandering around and hopped on it to go down to the city, quite a steep descent and much harder to manage on a horse than going with my latest universe scooter from Mars to Earth. A shepherd caught me and took a picture. He had never seen a Mars man changing from his ET-costume into a human being. After some bargaining, he promised to e-mail the picture and to my surprise he did. Jordanians are nice people.

But down here in the USA, it goes from bad to worse. You guys are in deep doo-doo with this government. It’s the least transparent club I have ever seen. Behind the scenes, they work overtime to destroy your once vital systems. And then, suddenly, badoom-badoom! and they have concocted another multi-thousand page bill. You must give it to them: they are prolific law-writers. If I could just write novels like that.

 Again, I keep wondering where these people come from. They tell you that you are “un-American” if you don’t believe in them, but I have not seen such an un-American bunch like them before. They want to bring down your values and make it all look grey. Better to have everybody whine in misery than have some having fun and earning it and the others, too lazy to earn anything, whine because they can’t.

As a man from Mars, I do not understand their logic and your continued tolerance to put up with them. We are not as heavily populated as you are, but our differences are only a matter of degree and we would have thrown out bums like them a long time ago, if they had ever gotten in. That’s the point, we wouldn’t have let them in.

Their slogans are weird and have been full of contradiction and hypocrisy throughout history. The French Revolution started it with “Egalité, Fraternité et Liberté” (Equality, Brotherhood and Freedom). Sounds good, but the slogan is just one big contradiction. A misnomer. Was then, still is. Equality is a natural oxymoron. It can only be enforced by, yes, force. Brotherhood is full of strife, even in the best of families. That’s how you humans are. And freedom is wishful thinking, if that type of equality is the objective.

The USA became great because you let everybody be equal in their quest for freedom, happiness and economic good, not by forcing equality which stifles all initiative, inventivity and risk taking. Your current guys in the government are of a different kind. Their mantra is that nobody should be better off than the next poor unemployed smurfbrain who sits in front of the TV drinking  beer or has a government job. Keep everybody poor  and dumb so that they vote for this government because they are dependent on them. Heard that before? Well we did. Remember the USSR? Nazi Germany? None of that on Mars!

What am I going to do with my mixed kidzz that I am sharing with Mother Earth? Can’t send them to Europe either, as over there they are already down the drain. Take them to Mars? You imagine the culture shock? No French fries, cheeseburgers, pizzas or  Idol TV! Only ice-cold water (yes we have that in abundance, but you don’t know that – yet).

My ET friends and I are wondering how we could help you get rid of that bunch of miscreants. We have a nice resort on Mars, sort of a Reserve in a deep hole (yes, sorry, no French fries etc., but there are compensations: unobstructed view of Mother Earth). Impossible to get out of. Just offer them a tempting pack of (false) dollar bills and lure them into a few shuttles for a party and ship them off to Mars. NASA would know how to do that, and they would have a good reason, too. I’ll lead the way, just to save my kidzz. What a relief would that be.

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