Since some of you have expressed powerful feelings of rage, loss, injustice and emptiness after A Tribute to Dan Quayle was taken down, and because I am constantly trying to work the most favorable ratio of content to effort, I will be reposting some of its brighter moments, complete with new epigraphs and maybe even some meta-commentary. Here's a post about (the now deceased) Spaceship Earth, circa May 2009.
"It's so cold and lonely out here in outer space
At least I've got my keyboard and my low bot has its bass"
-Pepper, Stormtrooper
My car is a spaceship. It has disguised itself as a sedan from the early nineties to hide from bounty hunters. The windows are tinted to the point where they are probably not safe, and probably not entirely legal either. I bought it from a guy on Monument whom I found through Craig's List. He was moving back to India. I have named it Spaceship Earth because it is green, and after the quote by Dr. Emmanuel Bronner, which states "...for on God's Spaceship Earth, with bomb and gun, we're All One or none. All One! Exceptions eternally? Absolutely none!" It's a wonder that anyone still talks to me.
There is a shipboard AI, which is the after-market stereo system that was installed in the car. There is a life support system (AC), data readouts (the little button that I press to get the outside temperature), and a cargo hold (the trunk). The driver's seat is the bridge. The passenger seat is the navigator's seat, who sometimes has to assume the role of the gunner. The driver side back seat is the barracks, and the passenger side back seat is the brig, becasue the passenger side back door only opens from the outside. The middle seat in the back is just the bitch seat, because some things are the same in both spaceships and cars.
When the sun roof is open, it becomes the gunnery. When at least one window is rolled down all the way, Spaceship Earth is in atmospheric mode. When the windows are up, it is in interstellar mode. When in atmospheric mode, I can do research by sticking my hand out the window. When in neutral, I am cruising in stealth mode, as my engine is idling, and therefore, I emit fewer heat signatures.
Aboard Spaceship Earth, there are two protocols that are constantly in effect, and several others that are initiated as needed. The conditional protocols are the internal de-moisturizing protocols (primary, secondary, and tertiary), external demoisturizing protocols (primary and secondary, the first of which involves deploying the moisture shields), energy conservation protocol (when decelerating with the intent of stopping, I pop it into stealth mode), and the life support moderation protocol, which means that I cannot use the life support system if the outside temperature is within ten degrees of the desired temperature and atmospheric mode is a feasable option.
The two protocols that are constantly in effect are the primary introduction protocol and the stack protocol. The primary introduction protocol states that whenever it is a passenger's first time in Spaceship Earth, they must be given a complete briefing on the features of Spaceship Earth, regardless of circumstances. The stack protocol states that whichever CD is currently in the shipboard AI, if it has a case, must have its case at the top of the stack of CDs in the storage space directly below the shipboard AI. There are no exceptions to either of these protocols.
But Spaceship Earth is not just a collection of absurdities to represent the world that goes on in my head and takes over when my conciousness can't take anymore of real reality. Spaceship Earth is my room, my bubble, my place in space. It is where I can think about things, it is where I can talk about things, it is where I can reason, where I can work out the big and small issues, some of which matter and some of which don't. Spaceship Earth has a mind, it can think and respond and understand. And together we have this kind of synergy, the perfect marriage of artificial and organic intelligence. Whatever it is, the ship knows me, and I know the ship. But we fly though space with nothing to defend, we are drifting and never quite in orbit, not to mention taht there are no satelites around us. Ship doesn't mind, but it makes me a little melancholy. But only a little.
Sometimes in the deep voids of interstellar space, I'll walk the dark corridors and think "something is missing." Especially in the service ducts for the computor systems in the bridge. Maybe I'm too crazy to fix them, or not crazy enough; it may be that it'll take someone crazier than I to repair all the systems. Or maybe just someone competent.
Either way, we make a damn good team as it is, and thanks to the well established system of protocols, especially the stack protocol, everything runs smoothly.
The sad thing is that now, as I am really getting an understanding of this thinking space I have discovered, it will probably not be joining me next year, as I will probably not need a car where I am going. But I am not going to sell it, because I will need a car again eventually, and I probably wouldn't get enough to justify the trouble of selling it. That's ok. I'm going to drive this thing until it falls apart on the interstate. (Strangely enough, this is exactly what ended up happening.) Because dammit, for once, it's a space that I have made my own, and I can finally do some good thinking in there.
So be warned, if you ask me for a ride, you may be in for a long speech about all the features and the importance of having three different de-moisturizing protocols. But don't let that deter you, because it is a place where everything in your brain will allign itself properly, all the cells have the optimum osmotic pressure, all the molecules are vibrating at the same frequency, and everything makes sense. Trust me.
