“The Proud Cats At The P*U*C*C Finally Put Their Paws Down”. (A Short Story).

Welcome to The Baby Wants It’s Bottle Poetry Inc. Podcast, a creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. In this episode I read a short story of mine. It is somewhat inspired by my very wise cat. I wrote this after much thought about the inter-related world of civilians, societal leaders, geopolitics, pandemics and international trade. But at it’s core, all these things are instances of social interaction. Social interaction is largely is about the contested world of forming narratives, and he who tells the best stories wins. He who wins long term, creates cultural norms which are by nature tough to budge. What is ‘Culture’ other than embedded stories we all tell ourselves each other, over and over, without much or indeed any thought. I now fully recognize the art of “telling stories” determines what gets done and by who, who leads and who follows. In other words the ancient tradition of storytelling lives on in its beauty and pre-eminence more than it ever did, and also if we are not careful bad culture comes as a growing weed along the fence, avenue, town, city, nation and finally the World.

Proof of this constant need for narrative and storytelling has been seen during the heavy lockdown period in 2020-21 coupled with a period of not-seen-since-the-1930-s media and tech giant censorship. A totally new environment of “the pandemic” required demand for a new both local and world narrative. So I wasn’t so surprised when opening a web browser and seeing Orwell’s 1984 and Huxley’s Brave New World were at the top of Amazons fiction list of best sellers. In this state of flux, people are scrambling for good storytellers to tell them what’s happening and how to act. In many an eye of the public today, the dystopian future outlined in these books 1984 and BNW is now happening. We feel a distinct flavor of Authoritarianism, and these famous ‘storytelling’ books 1984 and BNW of course are also a message to the future, the future we are now in 72 and 83 years after they were written. It is not so surprising a fact these books ring true, given Orwell and Huxley were gaining much knowledge of the Authoritarian times they lived in, coupled with the History Rhymes thesis.

So the best story wins, and in the Western World at least, Huxley and Orwell have the best story about the nature and future of Authoritarian and totalitarian regimes, that why they were and are still again bestsellers. In 2021 we live in a world which seems to approximate these two books. In the future, if history is not fully erased, we will be known as the people who fought off Totalitarian disaster and World War, only to decades later throw away all for a few inflation reducing bucks and a few obselete-ing foreign made widgets. I haven’t mentioned ‘Animal farm’ which is probably very silly as my short story and the themes are more obviously similar to that Orwell novella. I will thank these three books and these two men, for the unknown guiding hand that helps move the pen when I talk of dystopian and authoritarian subjects.

I will speak no more, as you more than get my drift. I don’t claim to be anywhere as good as these two writers, I am a beginner or at best a sophomore writer who is probably emerged in too much silliness. However Orwell and Huxley are a great inspiration for me personally to attempt meaningful fiction, which I hope to achieve on some level in the future.

I’m sure when all is said and done, the animals will have a better plan for us all.

P.s. I cant help but think of the BNW theme where society programs people to die exactly at age 60, the logical point where the societal dependency and reducing economic value began to become ‘a problem’ (& by the way, is coffee the new soma)?

Please enjoy the story!

“The Proud Cats At The P*U*C*C Finally Put Their Paws Down”” – A Short Story by Martin Anton Smith 2021.

My Cat, being Conservative by nature, always wears an old world formal dining coat.

It’s Coal black with highlights of the finest Aegean sea tortoiseshell.

It fits perfectly as one piece, with the only gaps being the most physically necessary ones.

He does not, of course have a dull cat name like Tom, Mittens or Timmy.

He has a wide range of titles bestowed upon him by the finest chaps and chap-ess’s.

They are: Squeaky, Sir Squeaky, King Squeaky, His Nibs, Squeak Chop, Sir Squeeksalot.

These Titles, he advises me, are from his esteemed fellows from the strictly exclusive ‘ Pragmatic Utilitarianism Cats Club’.

Often out of Nowhere, he will say “I’m off the P.U.C.C., don’t wait up”

“Me and the ‘Cool Cat’s’ will Talk Geopolitics all night”.

To which I mentally squash the obvious childish retort of “But I thought Cat’s were lone wolves”?.

A cat of Sir Squeeky’s class, would always despise such time wasteful comedy, especially while on the way out the door.

As King Squeaky always looks resplendent, and is as organized and on-time as a German train, he is not one to mess around getting ready.

I hear the door slam shut, followed by a muffled goodbye of “toodoloo!”, followed by the slowly reducing sound of paw steps on the crunchy driveway gravel.

After somewhat feeling jealous of Sir Squeek’s upper crust social life, I retreat to my bedside reading: The books title is “China Now Owns The World, SO NOW GET USED TO IT”.

The hours pass, and I wonder how His Nibs the cat-about-town, is getting on. Then exhausted from the days running around, my eyes droop and I fall into a deep sleep.

The next afternoon Sir Squeeky opens the door and meanders in to the living room almost as slow as a turtle dawdling along on a beach.

He’s before me in the living room, eyes half closed as he has been up all night yakking at the exclusive Pragmatic Utilitarianism Cats Club – or “The P.U.C.C. or more simply spoken as “The Puk”.

“taking my opportunity for a sneaky quip I cheerily utter ” Look what the Cat dragged in; how was the Club”?

Squeaky ignores the ill mannered quip and replies perfunctorily.

“Well, we talked and decided the China problem is ok for us Cats, but extinction-ally bad for Humans, so I’m concordantly content”

“But what about shipping delays” I say, “their will be undoubted delays in your finest branded Cat Biscuits – RegalCataBix”

To which “His Nibbs” replies – “It’s sorted we’ve organized an alternate secondary shipping backup via the ex Cape Horn Spice trail and the boats are all manned and manufactured by craftsman felines”.

Again I squash the obvious quip “I thought cats hate water” and I ask “what about delays regarding sardine smelt production from Canada”, I rebut.

To which Squeak Chop dismissively replies:

“I and the P.U.C.C can get it fresh fish from the mountain stream at the next village, you dunderhead! canned sardines pffft as if, OUTRAGEOUS!”

Sir Squeaksalot starts grooming his paws nonchalantly, exuding his usual unflappability under fire.

Continuing my line of questioning I say “And so you talked about the Pandemic? So what if you Cat’s all get sick?

Squeeky looks at me with the same disdain the Queen might if a politician had upon greeting had hugged her instead of bowing politely.

“That ridiculous, we can’t get sick from something we developed ourselves in our virology labs along with the antidote”

Quite stupefied, I ask him “Are you saying you elite cats down at the P.U.C.C developed this virus in the lab, in order to do away with all Earths people”

“Sir Squeaky pawed his whiskers, that’s exactly what I’m saying, and I’m dreadfully sorry on a personal level, as you’ve been a good foot soldier for me around this joint, but we at P.U.C.C are a pragmatic and utilitarian bunch – we couldn’t take any more silliness, you were all feeding us a far too limited diet, and making the air far too dirty to breath, so much so half of us now have asthma. On top of that our coats were becoming grimey and that simply wont do. We had to put our paws down.”

To which I protested: “But you get the best quality biscuits, I feed you beef bits from the butchery, full cream milk and even some shaved deli ham on occasion”

“Yes, of course – you have been good my dear boy – it’s the rest of humanity we made this call for – you will unfortunately be what’s called ‘collateral damage”

“Collateral damage” how could you be so cold Sir Squeeksalot? After all these years”

“3 to be Exact”, he firmly retorts. “Well as I said, dear boy, it was a tough decision, not taken lightly and we spent all night on it, and it could have gone either way at any moment.”

I was about to further protest when a firm “Knock Knock Knock” cut out our conversation.

“Special delivery for Sir Squueksalot – paw print required”

I opened the door, and Squeeky jumps up on top the box the delivery man is holding. He proudly thrusts his somewhat oversize paw to the mans digital scanner, he scans it with a “boop-bip” sound, says a robotic “thankyou”, and leaves in a flash.

Then in a blur Squeeky cuts through the carton with a deft flick of an un-retracted claw, the top box flaps open to expose a small ray gun which seems to have a handle which has been molded especially for a cats paw.

Before I know it, I see Sir Squeeky point the ray gun at my head and he says “This is harder on me than it is for you sonny”.

I am swiftly encapsulated in an otherworldly green glow of visible plasma particles. It’s like I’m looking out into distant space from the surface of Alpha Centuri.

Time seems to slow to a halt for what seems like an eternity, then in the blink of am eye, all’s normal again.

For some reason I have a monstrous craving desire for ‘RegalCatabix’, some fresh Canadian smelt all washed down with a saucer full to the brim of full cream milk ‘.

I squash the acute hunger as I see Sir Squeaksalot peering at me with that common cat look of squinted half closed eyes – though this time our eyes are equal level with each other.

As the reality begins to set in, my rising anger erupts ….I open my mouth to aggressively chastise Sir Squeeksalot and ask him to reverse whatever in hells name he’s done to me with that green plasma ray gun.

I open my mouth to let out the words, but to my surprise instead of my human voice all I hear is elongated unhappy screechy sounds:

Meoooooow ……Meeeooooowwww……..Meeeeeooooooowwwwwwww.

I am about to look around and find where the feral cat is hiding – perhaps behind the couch? Then it dawns on me.

Sir Squeaky has turned me into a cat, so as to save me from the Cat-in-the-Lab designed ‘Killer Human Virus’. The Virus that would abruptly solve all of the Earth’s man made problems.

I look sheepishly at Squeeky, he looks back in a grandfatherly-wise way and says hypnotically and with gravitas:

“It’ll take you a while to get used to your voice box and speak Cat English again, but me and the Cat’s at of the P.U.C.C will teach you everything we know”. As a tear appears in my eye he swipes my face with claws fully retracted, as says ye-olden-days speak: NOW KEEP A STIFF UPPER WHISKER AND FOR SPHINX’S SAKE CARRY ON – YOU’RE A CAT NOW”

I pawed the tears streaming from my now wide yellow cat’s eye’s. Soon my spirits began to lift as I realized how lucky I was to have Sir Squeaky save me from a certain viral death.

I no longer had to worry about the deadly ‘Man Virus’ and I could live in a paradise in a world ran by Cats running of the philosophe of “Pragmatic Utilitarianism”.

I was now an ‘insider’ cat, controlled by the strongest paws and the best minds of the P.U.CC. Soon no doubt I’d be inaugurated as a fully fledged member of P.U.C.C., and no doubt would be asked by His Nibs to jointly head the committee which will manage world affairs in lieu of those dumb humans. I mean what could possibly go wrong?

Sir Squeaky then wheeled out a platform with at least 30 large red books.

“Now we have to get you schooled up of the ideology principles and methods of the P.U.C.C. system- start with Vol 1.”

Sir Squeeks pawed off one of the books from the platform, and it landed with a thud in front of my nose. I looked at the front cover. It read as the following

“P.U.C.C. MANEFESTO Vol 1 – A NEW WORLD DIGITAL CURRENCY – THE PURRCOIN”.

Then uncontrollably, my furry stomach started revolving, like the rolling waves on the open seas. Then I started rocking to and fro, violently like a sailboat in a storm in the roaring 40’s. Then I broke out into a drenching sweat, I could see my fur clumping together through my now salty sweat addled eyes. As ill as I felt, I could hear King Squeaky mumble over and over: “Oh no, not again, this theoretically shouldn’t even be possible…dear oh dear…somethings wrong with the plasma re-orienter settings, those bloody P.U.C.C. techs are useless…useless…USELESS!”

I thought it was over when a paw toe suddenly turned into my old human pinky finger, then it popped back to a paw toe, then a finger, then back again. Then horribly the same thing happened to my head. The whole upsetting experience lasted no longer than five minutes, then I was once again fine and fully formed. I was a healthy normal cat.

His Nibs sat me down and gave me a warm saucer of full cream milk, to settle my nerves after this harrowing trial. I said nothing and listened to his soothing words.

“Don’t worry, these teething issues occur initially, the ray gun plasma blast is 100% healthy. Your mild symptoms are merely a small technical hurdle the nerd cats at P.U.C.C. haven’t ironed out yet. This wont effect anything. For the moment just follow this process that has been rubber stamped by the highest P.U.C.C. committee, which you will be happy to know I also reside on as Chairman.

“One – avoid large gatherings or anywhere where you cannot reach a bathroom stall within 3-5 minutes. In other words no sports games or concerts, automobile trips etc.

Two – the signal to hide yourself away in a bathroom stall will occur when your tummy starts revolving, you of course must get to the bathroom stall before your head starts to flip between your normal cat’s head and your old human head. You must understand If anyone who is not a part of P.U.C.C sees a cat with a human head, the P.U.C.C. will be shut down. We cannot under any circumstances let that happen.

Three – when safely hidden from prying eyes inside the stall, you will wait the remaining minute or two till its all over, perhaps 5 to be safe, then you can rejoin the prior activity with no one the wiser”.

I was finally feeling a bit less worried when he kindly added “If you follow this process there wont be any problems, and of course you can still potentially be a member of the P.U.C.C. and I’ll make sure I’ll keep a guiding eye on you until our best P.U.C.C. Ape-to-Cat Reconfiguration Technicians resolve the problem”.

With Sir Squeaky’s increasingly calming words, I knew I was in good hands. I didn’t protest, I smiled obediently and wiggled my whiskers joyfully. Now was the time to begin psychologically preparing myself for a whole new post-human existence. After all, What else was I to do? Go back to being a human being who would be wiped out by cat instigated virus? Never! I wouldn’t dare squander the gift of life Sir Squeaky had manifestly bestowed upon me.

I reached my paw out for the well bound, red leather cover of the P.U.C.C. Manifesto. After all I had so much study to do. Sir Squeaky casually ambled over to sit on his favourite grey furry blanket, that overhung the base of the couch. He turned around twice the settled and went to sleep almost instantly. His purrs rung out loudly as I turned over the first gilded page.

THE END

listen to the audio above!

https://www.podchaser.com/podcasts/the-baby-wants-its-bottle-poet-1788993/episodes/the-proud-cats-at-the-pucc-fin-93940292

Thankyou for listening to the Baby wants It’s Bottle Podcast, A creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. This podcast is available on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts from.

Published by Martin Anton Smith creations ltd (NZ) © All Rights reserved. No Commercial Use or Commercial Public Broadcast Allowed Without Written Permission. Non Commercial/Educational Broadcast is Freely Encouraged.

“Breaking News: “Sir Squeeky” The Cat buys Crazy Crunchy Catfood Co. for $30M” (Podcast Transcript incl. Poem)

Welcome To The Baby Wants Its Bottle Poetry Inc, a creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. In This episode a ” funny I hope” Prose Poem, inspired by my 3 year old Tortoiseshell cat , Squeeky – who is quite the naughty character, and quite the bon vivant. The poem takes the form of a ‘breaking news’ broadcast. Without Further ado, lets begin!

“Breaking News: “Sir Squeeky” The Cat buys Crazy Crunchy Catfood co. for $30M

“Sir Squeeky Wallows” the Eccentric and Highly Intelligent BusinessCat,

Has Announced That After A Hostile Takeover,

He Is Now The Majority Shareholder And CEO

Of the ‘Crazy Crunchy Catfood Inc.’

In His First Comments To The Market, He Announced

“My First Action Will Be Purrrr- fect Quality Control.

I Am Injecting Myself Into The Frontlines of the Business,

As the Top Brass and Singular Taste – Tester.

I Will Taste Test Every Single Biscuit Catfood Item,

That Rolls Off The End Of Factory Conveybelt.

This will Last Until Quality Standards Are Significantly Raised.”

Initially This Commitment to Quality Testing Was Positively Received

By Wall St, With Cat stocks Immediately Rising 59% on The Meow Jones Index,

Leading Market Commentators To Predict A “Bull Run” in Catfood Stocks.

However, This Boom Was Shortlived,

As It Soon Became Apparent That All Factory Supplies of Crazy Crunchy Catfood Inc,

Had Been Taste Tested For A Continuous Two Week Period,

Leaving No Factory Supplies Available to Its Retailers and Customers.

Now The Workers at Crunchy Catfood Are Revolting, Very Revolting.

And The Share Price has Plummeted some 90%.

We Tried To reach CEO Sir Squeeky Wallows for Comment,

However His Also-A -Cat Spokesman, Ms Tabitha Scratch,

Said Sir Squeeky Wallows, “Was Still Busy Quality Taste Testing”.

She Added, “This Was Simply For The Benefit Of The Long Term Major Shareholders”

She Also Stated Sir Squeeky Could Not Take A Direct Phone Call From Us,

As He Was Now So Fat, He Could Not Get His Bloated Paw

Into His Tightly Stretched Suit Pocket, Where His Cell Phone Was Now Permanently Stuck”.

And Besides This, Ms. Tabitha Scratch Continued, “He Could No Longer Fit Through The Factory Doors,

And Would Now Require A Forklift And The Removal Of a Wall,

Just To Leave The Factory”.

When We Asked Ms. Tabitha Scratch If The Company Would Soon Be In Liquidation

She Became Aggressive with Expletive Laden Words about Needing “Tasty Tasty Milky Liquidly Goodness Immediately”,

And When We Further Suggested The Crunchy Cat Company Had “Gone To The Dogs”,

We Heard Sir Squeeky’s Voice Caterwaul From The Backround:

“I’ve Given 8 of My 9 Lives To Be In This Position, and I wont Stand Idly By,

And Listen To False Media Dog Whistling”.

That’s When The Line Became Far Too Scratchy, and We Hung Up.

We Here at The Scratch Post News, will Kept You Updated On This Developing Story,

When More Updates come to Paw, er I mean Hand.

End Of Poem

Thankyou for listening to the Baby wants It’s Bottle Podcast, A creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. This podcast is available on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts from.

Published by Martin Anton Smith creations ltd (NZ) © All Rights reserved. No Commercial Use or Commercial Public Broadcast Allowed Without Written Permission. Non Commercial/Educational Broadcast is Freely Encouraged.

Special Edition Episode: The Unwritten History of the West Or Bad Dictums to Live By. (Podcast Transcript incl. Poem)

Original Feature Image by Martin Anton Smith 2016 Zeppelin over London’s Big Ben

Welcome to The Baby Wants Its Bottle Poetry Podcast – A creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a New Zealand Based creative. In This Special Edition Podcast, I bring a poem with deep analysis. The Poem from late2019/Early 2020, before “Covi.d Times” had truly hit. The analysis is current from me, right now. At the time of writing the poem, I had been musing about how unique the Western cornerstones of our beliefs are. I was particularly annoyed ay some of the worst ones, and although there are good ones as well (such as a legal system with a right to defense, good sanitation, compulsory schooling to age 16 and mostly free/decent health care, to name but a few).

The basis for this Poem was from a draft file I found, and had put aside (it was hiding in cyberspace), and I found again on April 18th 2021. I polished it, a little bit, but it is essentially “written on the spot”, from the original form. You might call it a “Rough Diamond”, and it is half poem half philosophy, which is a format I find excellent for discussion potential. So in this podcast the discussion is the feature, rather than the poem itself. As this seriousness, will not be to everyone’s taste, I have marked it as a “special Edition Podcast” When I wrote this, I admit, I must have been in a black mood, as I chose to concentrate on the worst features of the West in the 21st century, without mentioning the good parts..

This is why I like to add discussion to my poems, it allows me to reappraise the poem, discuss, and add new and balanced material, that is not strictly part of the Poem itself. Poets and philosophers are a strange lot, I am sure we kind revel in the “miserable”. This is why when someone accuses me of being “downbeat”, I kind of feel somewhat aggrieved and surprised. As a poet/philosopher I feel its good to raise uncomfortable points, even if they are in theory “negative”. But to that I say this: is it negative to shout to a person crossing the road in the direct path an oncoming bus, so they can jump out if the way and so save themselves from death or injury? In saying that, its always wise to also offer positivity in terms of resolving bad problems – you could call this the “Floor Managers Dictum”.

I think we need to be honest with the negative in society, but then we also need to also recognize the “Devil You Know” dictum (This is the conservative dictum of what you have will usually be better than some untried new thing). Failing to recognize the “Devil You Know Dictum” means you can fall into the progressive trap – whereby after an appraisal of an aspect of the “failing status quo system” a new replacement system is thought up, and if tried out to its full extent, usually fails terribly to live up to theoretical expectations, and a disaster is experienced. After the dust settles (and this can often take many decades via the slow process of creating written accounts in History books, of what actually occurred ) of the Progressive/radical change, it is plainly seen for what it is it is then realized the “Prior bad system”, or “status quo” in place, wasn’t nearly as bad as the progressives had thought. There’s reasons for everything. The abrupt change from Post ww2 social and economic policy to neoliberal policy could is an example of fail to heed to “devil you know” dictum. We live in that myopic reality from the pasts leadership, half of us were born into it, not recognizing how truly bad much of its results are, but its fair to say the under 40’s are now waking up, as they age. Unfortunately the under 30’s seem to favour heavy socialism and communism, we see this in the “woke movement” – it doesn’t end well.

Of course my Poem/Thought Trail from last year, no doubt will suffer from the problem of “its easier to find problems that find solutions” dictum – I expect much of the seemingly “bad things of the west” I point out, are better than some progressive alternative replacement. However, analyzing whether something is “status Quo” or “Progressive Change” is complex – as it depends on the time scales evaluated. what is it place now is “status quo” on a 40 year time line, yet was a radical departure from the 40 years before that, the Post ww2 era which seemed to be an equal part mix of socialism/capitalism. What is “status quo” now is actually a now deeply embedded, radical doctrine compared to 1945-80 economic/politico/social policy. Is it really a “conservative policy” to stay with a radical era of policy – that of the current neoliberal era? Or is it more accurate to say that favoring the current Neoliberal era is a position to “continue to be radical” vs the earlier more balanced post ww2 era?

Original Art by Martin Anton Smith (detail) – our economy and society often needs a time machine to remind us of the past.

I think a policy man of 1940’s, 50’s and 60’s would baulk at someone describing the current state of the politico/economic system as “conservative”, and thus something “not to be fiddled with”. The post ww2 era Politician or Business Leader, would say its a radical doctrine that shouldn’t have ever started, and if it had been started, indeed continued for decades, it should then always be cancelled and rolled back. I argue, and have for some time, that much of Wests Post 1980 economic/politico changes* have been problematic, as the ills of those “progressive”/radical changes from the 80s forward, seems to have been willingly camouflaged by our World, National and Community Leaders.

*In a Nutshell the Neoliberal era 1980 to present is the era of ideological cry of “market forces/free trade”, which of course was pro structural unemployment, pro inequality and pro anti-competitiveness, given the rise and rise of the powerful corporations during this era, and the “Financializing” of the economy. It is that which continues to this day, the creator of such dysfunction of mass homelessness and the widening housing crisis, the working poor, a intractable ruling technocracy. Perhaps the most obvious shocking feature of the modern era is to choose not to punish the unthinking speculator, but to aid and abet in his embodiment – this is most obviously seen in the practice of speculators flipping existing housing stock back and forth to each other, gaining capital, while the renters – common workers and families face poor conditions much as rampart mold, sudden evictions, large rises in rent. These rises in rent are now making it questionable whether their is an incentive to work, as the percentage of wages spent on rent has ballooned so high. So such a situation is a threat to production in the real economy – the engine-house of our society, our social fabric. Under the current system, rather than trying to cure this by building more housing stock, the reverse is done, the red tape is utilized, and their is only gated access to new land – for those in familial positions of privilege. They say to find out who controls something, look to see who benefits – this in the west has been the much older speculators and rent barons, with a pandering, in on it, red tape creating political class. Yes this sounds a bit Trotsky like – but its true – we have workers and families sleeping in cars, tents, living in dilapidated unhealthy housing, with no discretionary funds to build the real economy of value creation.

in 2021 we look to the hotspots of USA – California, Portland , New York to see that this camouflaged elitist system is finally failing to uphold its smoke and mirror tactics – its not working, and everyone knows it. We should return to the good policy of the post ww2 era, and not use the bad policy (i.e rigid gender roles, heavy unionization, too casual work safety rules).

Thus the questions my poem raises is a great way to discuss failures and victories of current western culture vs older western culture vs entirely other cultures. The West we are told (by those in ivory towers at least) is largely a product of the Enlightenment, a period starting around the early middle ages, where we moved from superstitious thought and religious law, to one of scientific and technical rationality, with Church as State separated. Its also worth mentioning that the west in the last 60 years, has not only had Church and State separated (and I believe that’s a good idea), but religious affiliation and practice has dwindled. The dwindling of the Church as a mode of social cohesion, I strongly believe, has created a cavernous void – a void that has been attempted to be filled by careerism and material goods and dinner party-ism, but this has failed as a suitable replacement.

I personally believe the social ills of the West can be largely solved by a system whereby people outside a religious belief system, at least believe in an Einsteinian God. Belief in a cosmic creator of some sort seems to allow people to follow the Christian “Golden Rule” (Do Unto Others As They Would Have Do Unto You). Without the “Golden Rule”, Society fails, and results in a society which becomes to parasitic, and ultimately if there are too many parasites, the host dies. I believe this is what we have been seeing in the west – a growth in parasitic behavior, this is most evidenced in economic behavior. The economy has become warped. What they call “the real economy” (Creating value and so Jobs and so wider prosperity) has been shrinking, and the world of Big Finance has skyrocketed (Making Money of existing assets, but adding no real value to the economy). thus wealth has been transferred upwards and inequality has become unsustainable for a stable society, as I eluded to and described earlier discussing Neoliberalism.

You only need to look at the USA and its problems to see the effects of 40+ years bad Western policy. On a positive note – I do believe we see in many people a desire for a return to a society which practices the “Golden Rule, and perhaps a bit of destruction will allow the people displaying parasitic behavior to amend there ways. After all History is full of cycles of all kinds, both periods of greed and generosity. So in reading this poem, I hope the audience sees the wider context, and engages in talk about how to return to a more “Real Economy”, and less Parasitic one. At least Western Society seems to be past the denial phase it was in until roughly 2010 (when the world economy shuddered with the GFC, which was caused by the sub prime mortgage crisis which was, of course rooted in the toxic “Parasitic economy” mentality).

This Poem is really about those negative behaviors that seem to have accelerated from the 60s 70s and 80s but flourished particularly so, in the post GFC western world. A World of “property ladders”, where building a new house, or buying an existing one has become a gated community, and is increasingly aristocratic and familial. So take this intentionally one sided essay, as a discussion point on how we can improve society, but also recognize the “Devil You Know” factor – for we should always avoid throwing out the baby with the bathwater, as our leaders did in the 1980s and continue to do today. The “Real Economy” and real people continue to get the raw deal. For those of you with large reserves of mental energy and patience who are still with me, that’s more than enough of an introduction, so without further ado, let me begin the poem, and remember the one sidedness is to illustrate a point, I remind you we can change to a better world, much quicker than you might realize, given the fighting abilities of the human spirit.

“The Most important Unwritten History of the West Or Dictums to Live By”. Poem by Martin Anton Smith 2020.

The West is Masses of people interacting superficially, and this results in the giving very of little, (especially when you have something) and also so receiving very little (when you have nothing and need a lot). 

Masses of people feeling really really annoyed about not being received properly (they wanted a lot for the little they gave). 

Masses of People who lionise the ‘down and out’ as of weak character – but only have self pity for themselves when they become an ‘unfortunate’. 

Masses and Masses of people not realizing they are totally un-empathetic mean, Calvinistic, walking contradictions (because they have no basic understanding of karma).

A tiny few people who give a lot when they have little (and in return they get a lot when they have little). 

Western people have no collective loyalty to their wider society.

Western people are frightened of living life as to that which their passions dictate.

Western people prefer to live vicariously through other untouchable, plastic, unworldly richer total strangers, will even feel they know them, may even ‘love’ them…but hate to see their friends and neighbours  succeed. 

Western people are so repressed they must get drunk to meet a (sexual) partner. 

Western People can’t make enough babies to sustain their economy (and must so import more collective and sexual cultures). 

Western People go to a funeral for their best friend or family member, it lasts an hour, is usually managed by a weird stranger (a priest) and then they go back to work as if nothing happened. 

Western People get married to someone they don’t love, and is unsuitable, and then have kids with them  (because they are deeply worried what strangers will think if they stay single beyond 35-40). 

Western People act like children when the marriage dissolves dramatically (though this time instead of throwing toys from a cot, they throw lawyers their (or their ex partners money) hard earned money and bits of paper with threats on them).

Western People pretend that the world is not dangerous, that people’s skin is not as soft as a watermelon, and then act really  surprised when someone is injured, or dies early or is in a bad accident. (Sometimes groups of people design a system of shitty easily crushed tin cans with soft people inside them, set them going up to 100- 200km/hr., put them on a collision course, paint a little line a foot between them, and then set them in a giant game of chicken, whereby they pretend this is not a game of chicken, and then chide them or punish them or fine them when inevitably something goes wrong in this game of chicken). 

Western People love it when one or two people  own all the newspapers and media or all the electricity or all diamonds steel or food, (but yet they hate dictators and denounce them as evil).

Western People keep voting for the same dickheads who encourage all the above, and then act surprised that their lives never improve within the system (even though they voted for the same dickheads who help create and sustain said shitty system). 

Western People sell their land to the highest bidder, which means a foreigner, and then talk of how bad, and feign surprise when they see all these foreigners around the place. 

Western People have University’s where people are labelled as ‘the smartest guys we have’ in areas of business, the arts, medicine and science…(yet 80% of their income comes from poor and naïve 18 -25 year old’s mortgaging their futures all for these ‘smart people’ their comfortable seat in the ivory tower. These “smartest people” can’t somehow earn their own money via legitimate trade – they must live of loan-sharked overgrown teens). 

Western People put the poor in jail and/ or convict them so also ruining their employment chance, for acts that are often tiny misdemeanors based on desperation (But are happy to give taxpayer funding through grants to business owners who create fake jobs schemes in order to steal millions). 

Western People are now in decline so much it is  at a total all encompassing DNA level (Western people are unaware that they are in Decline, and also how much they are in decline).

Western People who marry into other cultures, and have kids with these, are actually being the smartest western people (But they are often maligned as ‘Sleazy’ for doing so, for ‘how dare they marry those people from those irrational undeveloped countries?’) 

Western People start to feel so terrible and depressed, after about age 15 because of the accumulated psychological stress from years of the delusion of denying they are living in a madhouse (then a Doctor who is a legal pathological drug dealer, gives them a pill to make them more manic so to cover the depression, and tells them to go back to the madhouse and come see them for more (a higher dosage) later when this doesn’t work very well. 

For Western People, The proof of your true sanity is to realize you live in the long derived Western Madhouse (But if you tell people you realize this fact, you will be thrown in an asylum ,or a halfway house these days as asylums are no longer PC. In an insane world, you are only deemed practically sane if you prove your actual insanity sufficiently well).

All the above has lead me to design a new Western motto to live (or not live by) by it is this: 

Cognito Nix Ergo Sum, insaniam convertunt

( The new western motto is ‘I don’t think, therefore I am insane).

End of Poem.

As a final part of post poem discussion, I would like to add a point of hope, to further combat the poems artistic one sidedness – the terrible pandemic crisis we are now more than a year into, may be the catalyst for a better operating western world, socially and economically. After the destruction of ww2, the world had a 30-40 year period of cohesiveness, and perhaps we will see a version of history repeat with the pandemic. Often a crash in life, ultimately brings out the best in all of us as all prior delusions are vanquished and we can see clearly once more. While I often suffer from cynicism, even I know that we can choose a better path, if we simply read history well and remember our historically well served meaningful dictums.

Thankyou for listening to the Baby wants It’s Bottle Podcast, A creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a NZ based creative. This podcast is available on Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts from.

Published by Martin Anton Smith creations ltd (NZ) © All Rights reserved. No Commercial Use or Commercial Public Broadcast Allowed Without Written Permission. Non Commercial/Educational Broadcast is Freely Encouraged.

Zombie Times Limited ( A Poem)

Poem by Martin Anton Smith, 2021.

Don’t Walk Near Me,

Coz I’ll Eat You Alive.

I’ll Say What’s What,

And I’ll Spike Your Mind.

I’m Looking For Fools,

A Zombies’ Got Needs.

Ripe Brains Everywhere,

And Oh So Much To Eat.

Don’t Say I’m Walkin’ Dead,

For I Manifest Strength.

And I’ll Run Ya Ragged,

In The Midnight Streets.

I Rule The Airwaves,

It Only Makes Sense.

To Throw Hand Grenades,

Then Sit On The Fence.

So They’re Stealing Brains,

And How Did We Get Here?

We all Can Blame Ourselves,

We Fell Asleep At The Wheel.

Now We’re Chained Slaves,

Of The Living Dead.

For They Had You Believe,

It Was All In Your Head.

Published by Martin Anton Smith creations ltd (NZ) © All Rights reserved. No Commercial Use or Commercial Public Broadcast Allowed Without Written Permission. Non Commercial/Educational Broadcast is Freely Encouraged.

Pete the Green Grocer Exacts his Revenge (Podcast Transcript/Skit)

Welcome to the Baby wants its bottle inc. podcast a creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a New Zealand Based Creative.

In this episode, I present a short skit. how did I come up with this Idea?, I listened to that old old song song “yes we have no bananas”, a big band song that was a hit in the very old days. I remember as a kid in the 80’s, it was reference on occasion on TV. So I kinda liked the song, and it kicked off my creativity. I thought of updating the songs lyrics, in the form of a skit or a mini short story, you could even call it an “alternate ending”. So make sure you also eat a Banana today, but make sure its not rotten, but then again, you can always make a banana cake out of those! But then we all know you will throw it out, who has the wherewithal to bake cakes these days? Note: the original song, I hope, is embedded at the bottom of the shows transcript, see the shows description for the link .

And without further ado, lets begin…I give you my fun creation, which I have titled, “Pete the Green Grocer Exacts his Revenge” by Martin Anton Smith 2021

Ok Pete, that’s awesome, I’m so happy your niece turned 10 yesterday, and that your grandmother just turned 128, that’s gotta be some kinda record! And yes, I promise, I’ll come and have a drink of your famous home grown whiskey, just as soon as I get the time. Yes, Yes, I know its aged in oak barrels, Yes I know you made the barrels outa the old oak tree in your great grandmas back yard! What’s that? Do I like Jazz being played today? Yeah, It’s ok I guess, but Pete – You know I prefer Public Image ltd! John Lydon was…I mean IS a genius!…as was Keith Levene!….Ok Pete, I”ll tell you about the history of Punk later…what’s that Pete? Yes the trumpets are great, they really are! Now Pete, I really must Go now…no the beans and the apples will be fine….Yes a Paper bag …thanks…I you double bagged it, cheers…huh? sorry Pete, that’s all I want, no Pistachios, No walnuts, not even a Old White bean, my old Bean! I gotta run, I’ve had a bad day, I need rest, my mother has been driving me crazy lately, she’s old and losing her marbles, thinks I stole the phone, you know what’s its like, its kinda like your great grandma always asking you to find her some “doctors Orders Cigarettes'”, over and over again – Parents are so frustrating, I don’t know how you guys do it Pete – 7 Generations all in the same house!…the queue for the bathroom must be terrible! Now I really really must finally Go Pete! Hey one more thing Pete, just before I go….Pete, can you stop saying “Yes, we have no bananas” ? Its kinda stupid, no one gets that old joke anymore, I mean it’s not 1930 anymore, and no one knows that old song…I mean the joke is lost on everyone under 90…..no One knows who the hell Louis Prima is anymore, no one has liked that “Big Band” sound since Chuck Berry’s electric guitar swiftly killed it!…Pete, don’t cry, Please , Oh Jeez Pete, there’s a whole Niagara Falls coming outa your eyes, oh Pete come on, don’t be upset, here’s my handkerchief…oh thats not working, here, cry into this cup….here’s another….wait, here take this bedsheet, that happens to be blowing by…ah good yes…Pete, dry those sore red eyes…take these eye drops too…here let me help…..oh sorry, that went up your nose, I was only trying to help.

Pete, calm down, stop shouting! What? you don’t want my custom anymore? Come on Pete , ok I’ll compromise , just add a small change to that banana line, nothing big. I just want you to say something funny, for when you actually do have something in stock as the “Yes we have no bananas” line, only works for outa stock items …what’s that Pete? Oh you will go along, so long as I buy some extra Imported, extra Salty, extra Long, Extra Red Salami? ok ok, I’ll have some of that Salami then! But, now to my idea, you should say, “No!, we have some Salami?” , that’s the converse of “Yes! We have no Bananas, isn’t it? Be logically consistent Pete! Come on Pete, live up to your Harvard Education! Pete, Your Going Red….Now Blue…..Now Purple, steam is coming out both ears! Now its steaming the Brocoli! And You dont have a license to cook on Premises! Pete, with that display of anger, You really must see my therapist, don’t worry, he’s as Cheap as your disappearing bananas, and as nice as your great grandma! What’s that you say Pete? “No!, you have some rotten tomatoes for my nice Italian suit?”. Aright Alright, My God Pete, I cant believe you did that, Pete, the dry cleaning bill will be horrendous! Ok, well I guess I asked for that Pete, I was rude, very rude, I acted like an arrogant upper crust clueless colonial Englishman from 1895. I promise Pete, I’ll never tell you how to run your lovely, old fashioned, Jazz playin, half stocked, Conversational, quaint and undeniably lovable greengrocer shop. Ok then Pete, I’ll have some beans, Ok I’ll have some mushrooms, cucumber, yep my hamster loves those, lettuce yep, Grapes? ok I’ll have some grapes, though Pete, I hope they are not “sour grapes” Pete …ah aha haha haha ha ah ha! Pete, your not laughing…Pete…don’t grab me…Pete that’s sore…..Pete, I’m choking you’re choking me! …Pete…PEEEETE……. I…….THOUGHT……YOU….SAID …YOU ……..HAD………….NO……………BANANAS!!!!!!!!!!!

end of scene

Thankyou for listening to the baby wants his bottle poetry inc. podcast, a creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a New Zealand based creative. Available on Spotify and many other platforms

P.s. the original song I hope is embedded at the bottoms of the shows transcript, see the shows description for the link.

Those Streaky Starving Satellites – a short Poem

Welcome To The Baby Wants its Bottle Poetry Inc. Podcast, a creative project by Martin Anton Smith, a New Zealand Based creative. In this episode, I read a Poem That I have literally just written over the past hour. This was inspired due to the weather – namely some wild winds blowing in Central Otago New Zealand, at the moment. The wind is the most fierce I have seen for at least a couple of years, the sky is blue, and there is much too and froing of leaves and various small detritus. Luckily it is not yet so bad, and my cat “Squeaky” isn’t yet flying through the wind yet. In this poem, for some reason, I thought of thin people being buffered about, while larger people existing in more relaxing circumstances. A bit like a small boat vs a large boat on choppy water. I wrote a light hearted piece about this wind buffering matter. I think this poem would go over well at a poetry reading, whereby people are sufficiently lubricated – I think I will try to make this happen, most likely in Dunedin, which is only 2 hours away by horseless carriage. Although in theory the Poem is best made for reading in windy cities like Wellington or Freemantle, Australia. I definitely do not recommend this poem if you are a sailor, waiting impatiently in the doldrums, for more wind to catch your sail, as it will make you even more cranky than you already are. And without further ado, let me begin the poem!.

“Those Streaky Starving Satellites” by Martin Anton Smith 2021

While the wild storm is a brewin,

The thin become nervous and fidgety,

while the large are conversely, quite relaxed.

For the large are naturally blessed with ballast,

While the thin have burnt theirs off long, long ago.

At its logical worst, the garilous gale brings forth,

a scattered world of thin people, flying through the sky.

The direction of which, is determined by what meteorologists call “the Jet stream”.

They circumnavigate the earth, like high flying tumbleweeds,

or as low flying streakily shaped satellites would.

Of course the Large people, safely endowed with gods ballast,

have a whale of a time while watching skywards, from below.

They festively raise a glass to their gallery of large friends gathered,

and speak freely with witty rejoinder, and they dare to quip:

“Well,,,.. that’s what you get, for starving yourself”.

End of Poem.

Postscript: Thankyou for your patience, I hope you enjoyed “Those Streaky Starving Satellites”. To add a closing remarks, I’d just like to now add, that in a windier world, perhaps brought on by rampart climate change, middle age spread or general extra girth, isn’t such a bad thing after all, it allows you to have ballast and sturdiness to combat the slings and arrows of existence in the high winds of life. Of course, when the wind dies down and heat piles on, the thinner people will be laughing at the large, while they sweat uncomfortably, and the thin radiate the heat away like a good engine cowling would. Please do not take this poem too seriously, it is simply a commentary on the physics of larger and smaller bodies facing environmental stresses -and those bodies happen to be living breathing humans, of all shapes and sizes, and that is a thing of beauty, don’t you agree?

Thankyou for listening to the baby wants its bottle poetry Inc. podcast, a creative project brought to you by Martin Anton Smith a New Zealand based creative. The baby wants its bottle podcast is available via Spotify, apple podcasts and many other platforms.

“Mrs Whippy, I’m Breaking Up With you” – a short prose poem.

Welcome To the Baby Wants its Bottle podcast, a creative Project by Martin Anton Smith a New Zealand Based Creative. In this episode, a short poem is read. The Poem is called, “Mrs. Whippy, I’m Breaking Up With You” . I wrote this poem in a very strange way, let me explain. I was installing a new computer, and I came across an old USB Drive, it was from 2012. on it, I had found a ridiculous sounding love letter. I read it over to myself. The letter was a equal mix of bad saccharine sweet movie lines, and self pity all mixed together. The unsent letter, was to a woman I hard cared for at the time and had been dating, and she had rightly dumped me, for being a the fool that I was! After re-reading it, I realized I was at the time 35 years old and going on 18 in emotional IQ terms (Like many males, I guess).The Letter was full of self pity, and ridiculous B Grade movie lines. However, as I sat in front of the screen, some 10 years after the words were first written, I thought to myself the following logic. Rather than deleting it entirely, I thought to myself “lets give it a fresh lease on life”. I then compiled the best few handfuls of lines out of it, carefully chosen in sequence, so they would roughly fit together. I then added just a few extra Lines, to change the context entirely. That new context would be Ice Cream. I found when I made Ice Cream the subject, rather than a ex love interest, the words took on a whole new uplifting quality. If I do say so myself, I think the resulting poem is somewhat witty, and of course, best enjoyed with an ice cream. So for those of you listening that have some, Pause this and come back again with some ice cream and press play (I’m serious – you should definitely do this, as it will really add to your experience). This Poem is an ode to the theory, that it is wise to make something fresh from the most challenging experiences in life – “When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemonade” (Maybe You should also now get some Lemonade, as well as Ice Cream!). Without further ado, lets read the Poem ! Its called “Mrs. Whippy, I’m Breaking Up with you”.

“Mrs. Whippy, I’m Breaking Up with you”,
Our dynamic doesn’t work,
and clearly brings the worst out in both of us.
it’s a vicious cycle, because I wanted you more,
Much more than you wanted me,
you then pull away, we have a break and I sit there for a month,
Desperately “Sugar Low”.
I know I wasn’t going to hurt you,
But if you were scared, I accept that you had no choice.
I just hope the reason you went wasn’t for revenge,
Maybe you can just switch off from all these things,
But I need Ice Cream.


Your right, your not good for me
BUT You CAN make me do the sweetest things.
Maybe you can just switch off from all these things.
I did feel such warmth inside when embracing you.
Your drip fed type of warmth made me addicted,
and I lose control and break my promises.
it’s not easy to turn around 20 years bad snacking.
I’ve been battling all those crap things all my life.
I think you can always make amends for bad behavior.
And After all, if you’ve had an early mid life crisis,

Then Life begins at age 35.
things I feel wronged for are many, but so small.
Just like “hundreds of thousands”.
Without health we have nothing and I must attend to my health.
there can be no other way to life the next 27 million minutes of my life
I must begin to live life on my own terms.

I’m Sorry For What I am about to say.

you always play the same old music.

I cant handle your icy cold exterior anymore.

I’m tired of waiting for you to arrive on time,

you add too far much weight to my poor soul,

and this has become more than I can swallow.

So it is with a heavy heart that I say,

I can no longer eat your ice cream anymore.

,,,End of Poem.

Thankyou for listening to the “Baby Wants Its Bottle Poetry Inc ” Podcast, a creative project by martin Anton Smith, a New Zealand Based Creative. Available on Spotify and many other platforms.

Image

Dirty Dancing (A Poem)

“ Dirty Dancing” Original Poem by Martin Anton Smith

Dastardly Dopey “Dr Dirt” – Dave Drudge
Definitely Dreads Digging Dirt Daily.
Days Dragged, Drudgery Didn’t Disappear.
Dave Dumbly Didn’t Drain Deadly Dunes
Dunes Did Deluge “Dr Dirt” Dave Drudge.
Dirty Dave Defly Dodged Death, Dramatically
Doctors Due Diagnosis: Deadly Diarrhea, Diptheria.
Don’t Do Dr Dirt Dave’s Drain Despatch Designs
Dreadfully Dumb Distinguished Dirty Deeds.
“Done Dirt, Dance Daily”, Dave Decided.
Decades Did Dwindle Distantly
Dave Drudge, “Doctor Dance” Died Desperately Delighted.
DISCO Dancing Definitely Drubs Digging Dirt

“The Physicist and the Student” (A Skit/Play)

“The Physicist and the Student” a skit comedy, created in 2020 by Martin Anton Smith, a New Zealand based Creative

Background, a student is rushing through a university town, as he running late for an appointment for a job interview, he stops asks the time of citizen on the street, who unbeknown to the young man, just happens to be a Physicist, who is on the way to his lab.

Student: What time is it?
Physicist: That depends
Student: On what?
Physicist: Well, your relative motion for one
Student,: You fool, were standing next to each other
Physicist: yes but you were running toward me before, while I was walking – I must know your average speed up until now, relative to the ground, I will do the same for myself, and then I can the two times
Student: What? Two times? What do you mean man? Oh I’m gonna be so late….
Physicist: As Einstein said – times relative, so there’s a time for you and a time for me – so what’s your average speed, relative to the ground?
Student: Look man! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I left my home in St Kilda 3 minutes ago, and that’s about 1 Mile away, now please tell me the time!
Physicist: ok ok don’t spin the telescope! Will you please use the metric system, us scientist all use the metric system …we need meters per second, not miles per minute – just as well I’m great at maths, I will do the necessary conversions
Student: Thank god! Now please hurry – I’m still late you know!
Physicist: God? Oh my dear boy there is no God- it’s all a cosmic quantum generated random event…anyway…ok ok I know your average speed now
Student: Finally! So what time is it?
Physicist: Oh wait, I forgot there’s something else…
Student: What is it now? Oh man I’m not gonna get this job I can feel it…
Physicist: Well Einstein also said Time is also relative to a gravitational field…..you don’t live in a high-rise apartment or in an underground bunker, do you? Because I live in a detached house, my gravity is pretty much middle-class gravity.
Student: I live on the 5th Floor of my building ok, now hurry please!
Physicist: (he takes out his notepad and mumbles to himself, as he makes his calculations) ok ok , so in terms of velocity, I calculate that your time is 3 Pico Pico Pico seconds slower than mine, and my time is 5 past two – so your time is 3 Pico Pico pi seconds less than that
Student: (speaking sarcastic tones,) Oh that’s a relief, I was worried about that, I really was if you were only two Pico seconds different, I’d be really really worried!
Physicist: Hey don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t given you the gravitational component yet!
Student: (speaking in resignation, )oh man ! please just give it to me!
Physicist: Ok Ok ok , Einstein said that clocks in a higher gravitational field move slower that those in lower fields – so you live A high rise so you gravitational field is lower than mine, so you clock moves faster than mine by 3pico Pico, Pico seconds….so amazingly that cancels out to mean between gravity and speed, our clocks completely agree
Student: It’s a miracle! I feel blessed!
Physicist: No Miricle silly, just good science my boy.
Student: ok ok ok, that’s good, so what time is it?
Physicist: oh it’s two thirty.
Student: Oh great! I’ve still got time!
Physicist: Don’t be so sure
Student: What? But you’ve just confirmed the exact time to me scientifically!
Physicist: well yes, but I always set my watch forward 15 minutes backwards, so it’s really actually two forty-five, in my frame of reference, of course. I do this because I prefer to be late for appointments you see, don’t ask why – it’s just a ‘physicist thing’.
Student: oh that means I’m late, I knew it!
Physicist: Oh your late, that’s great! It will show your not over eager, and if it’s a physicist your meeting you’ll be right on time! Who are you meeting?
Student: (scratches his chin in thoughtfulness) Oh that’s True…, it’s an interview for a lab assistant at Blackbody University, the guys name is ….(he looks down at his notes he is holding in His hand), Dr Cyril P Lightyear
Physicist: Why that’s me! I had forgotten about that job applicant, thank god you stopped me!
Student: wait a minute….I thought you said God didn’t exist?
Physicist: Just a figure of speech my boy! I can tell your up for the job, I’ll hire you on the spot, by Jupiter! now when can you start?
Student: That depends on Einstein’s special and general theory of relativity, sir – shouldn’t you of all people know that!

Physicist,: Yes my boy, you’ll do well in this job, your as quick witted as Richard Feynman, who by the way brazenly stole my secretary in 86! 

Student: I hope he didn’t steal your theories too? 

Physicist: Well yes he did, my silly secretary told him my theory of Quantum Electrodynamics, I asked her why she did that and she said something about big eyes and smooth pillow talk!

Student: Don’t worry doc , Fame, Money, Science Groupies, and respect of your peers are probably greatly overrated anyway – and you will always know what you created.

Physicist: True, I’d rather be a small virtuous, scruffy little known physicist on the  outer rim of the Milky Way, than some grandstanding pompadour with his head some stolen clouds any day!

Student: I believe in you sir !

Physicist: now all this science talk is making me hungry, would you care to join me for a meal at the faculty cafeteria? We can talk about your first day on the job as my forever faithful assistant.

Student: Sure, what’s the name of this joint?

Physicist: it’s called, “I’m starving in a donut shaped universe, so let’s all eat” 

Student: You Physicists have a great sense of humour, sir.

Physicist: Quite true, we are generally funny, messy and smart. Just ask my friend Alan Guth!

Student: oh yeah, that’s right, Alan Guth was the Physicist who won the “messiest ever office” award didn’t he?

Physicist: Yes, though it was very close between him and Einstein, it all came down to a single mouse dropping, would you believe?

Student: I don’t doubt it, but I hope that you are not that messy sir!

Physicist: Don’t worry the mice are mostly eaten by the 7 stray cats – I call them “Schrodinger’s, Mouse, Service”, they do a stand-up job, even though they are all, quantum mechanically speaking, half dead, half alive and living in a box. 

Student: and on that beautiful life moment sir Cyril P Lightyear, let’s eat. 

Physicist: Sure, let’s do it, but wait I never got your name…?

Student: oh my parents were also Physicists, so I was named after the “second law of thermodynamics”, and my given names are “Maximilian Disorder” 

Physicist: Well, I feel your pain, being called “Cyril P Lightyear” wasn’t much fun in school either! But at least no one found out my middle name! 

Student: what is it sir? Is it Photon? Is it Pauli? Is it Plasma?

Physicist: Plank, it was Plank – how terrible that would be , Cyril Plank Lightyear! What a name! 

Student: Speaking of weird physicist names, don’t you think it was weird you had your secretary stolen and seduced, by Richard Feynman, – as in Dick, Fine, Man? I mean the irony! 

Physicist: Yes, I am well aware of the irony, I think this is proof we are living in a simulation, you know we Physicists take that conjecture very seriously these days, in fact most of us believe it’s true. For If there is life out there, they are more likely to be intelligent, and so would create virtual universes in simulations and these would far outweigh the organic real home-grown Big Bang type universes. 

Student: (he says speaking worriedly) WOW my heads spinning! We can’t be a simulation! What about Plato? What about cognitions ergo sum, you know, “I think therefore I am”. 

Physicist: Oh no dear boy, your living in the past we modern Physicists have updated that dictum of Plato’s – well-meaning though it was. 

Student: Go on, continue, do tell, enlighten me, 

Physicist: we now say this 

student: Yes! yes! yes!

Physicist: “I think I think, but those odds are wildly improbable , Therefore, I am, a simulation 

Student: Plato’s motto was way more catchy 

Physicist,: Touché Touché – now  let’s go get a “ Plate , O , Donuts”  at the faculty cafe – my simulated brain is sugar low…and soon I will be called “Cyril Plank  Pass out” 

Student: (says somewhat sarcastically) Ok Ok ok ok ok sir, I agree with you – we must eat a big plate of donuts I.e. we must selfishly and maximally increase the entire universes entropy, send it hurtling towards a state Maximum Disorder, and so quicken the heat death of the universe, all so to to stop the rumbling tummies of a couple of space cadets like us, that aren’t even real in the first place! – GOTCHA sir, makes perfect sense!   

Physicist: My God, You’re brilliant! These Simulated Universe Destroying Falsely Delicious Donuts are on me! 

Student: , GULP!!

 

End scene.