Extremists produce things with big red buttons. Non-extremists would produce lots and lots of little green, yellow and perhaps orange buttons to push in sequence. Rather than going all panicky and smashing the big red button at the first sign of trouble there would be a whole bunch of incremental steps, order and procedures to follow to help mitigate the risk.
Don't Panic. Really good advice, except then what happens to that red button which haunts my dreams, when do I get to slam it down, take a deep breath, and wait for the halon to start dropping from the ceiling? Probably I don't. Which means things would be a little too managed and safe. Boring. Boring like eating bacon wrapped doritos for years up until your heart just decides that it is done playing the game and takes a breather. The grim reaper likes to have it both ways.
Mother nature, fickle. She likes it both ways as well. How about the life of an Albert's squirrel. Lots of running around getting mildly excited about your ever growing stash of nuts, finding some new nuts. Finding a few more nuts. Sleeping. Finding and stashing nuts. Waking up to a pine martin in your tree.
No matter, bacon, death, waffles and squirrels all end up in the same place in the end. There is a really nice binary star system sitting off some tens of light years ( or so) from here. Earth just so happens to be exactly positioned above it's magnetic pole. What you say? SuparNova. Exactly. A nice bright wakeup call of cosmic particles will be tightly focused for their visit to our region of space. They won't get lost or confused on the way. So even father time and his little mistress the cosmos have a big red button. Sometimes a nova or super-nova won't do. Sometimes you gotta make statement.
What'd be really cool is if there was this whole new life-form heading out for that star. Cutting off the angle like a good hockey goalie so the shot has no way around and then the trick, eating all the radiation, consuming it and turning it into something concrete, manifest, tangible and new. Forget terraforming. We're talking swallowing a star for breakfast and growing some new chitinous outter shell by afternoon. Critters like that could live, feed and die on a scale akin to bacteria on a sequoia. A sequoia with a little squirrel and pine martin in it's boughs and a family of happy campers cooking bacon underneath.
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1 comment:
y0p
seriously, tho, now is the time to be reminded of the "girl friend" (if you call 2 years of infatuation and 2 months of UTTER HELL "girl friend") with the giant young b00bs who, while lifting a big box of fan fold green bar for the chain printer smacked the EPO switch with the back of her head....the room went FUCKING SILENT....we all thought we had suddenly gone deaf! The Halon release was right next to it.
If I recall, they said you had 10 seconds to get out of the room, after which, you'd pass out and possibly ass fix iat.
Breaking through the windows was not an option as it was all bullet proof.
Cheezus K. Reist: those b00bs were magnificent. But I think you had to be 20 to really appreciate 'em.
Bacon, of course, is G0d.
But, we are not "life forms" by the definition given to the term of the (by our terms) giant intergalactic thingys that inhabit the portion of "reality" that we can "view"...see, immediatly we don't even have the vocabulary to discuss this shit...we are so fucking NOTHING (except, they fucked up and let us taste bacon). OH GOD BACON! I mean: remember the two fat ladies who wrapped bad meat inside of bacon, then douse it with lard, then stuff it in some other creature's orifices? The thanksgiving slut they serve these days ain't nothing to their bubble and squeak in a pig's ass! (or was that a pig in an ass?).
Our fucking planet doesn't rise to the point of being a pimple on the butt of something...of course, I know we aren't nothingness like the space between a neutron and proton that aren't touching (shit dude: if they were touching, there wouldn't be any space....I at least understand these words, cuz, I R SMURT!).
kj0b
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