“Galactic Council Quotes” (Prose/Skit)

Different alien species sitting around a table with a holographic Earth in the center

by Anton Martin Smith antnmartinsmith@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com (emails are welcome!)

“The passage of time has shown that we were indeed naive to think these naked apes would stop flinging poop at each other sometime around the year 2000 AD – may I suggest seeding the air with imodium daily?”.

“Yes that’s a great suggestion QwankyQwank76 – although what will happen when they finally explode? How will we explain that one away?”

“Oh great question o Wakookoodonk, chair of the Gallactic Council. Let’s pretend when they explode it’s a normal physiological ailment – we will simply create a textbook full of fake illneses and the name for an exploding shit-supernova will be called “Sudden-Fauchi-Syndrome” they won’t suspect a thing – they’re easily brainwashed boobs remember!”

“Wonderful, I agree it’s fool-prrof..er I mean boob proof! But QwankyQwank – what do we call this Textbook of lies you propose?

“Well Wakookoodonk – My great Council leader I propose something dry like “The diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders, or the DSM for short”.

“Well thankyou QwankyQwank76 – you’ve clearly though of everything – let the Imodium cloud seeding and the exploding boobs begin! But wait – what about those humans that call themselves ‘Doctors’ – will we get resistence from them?”

“Fine question O Chair Wakookoodonk, don’t worry I’ve been watching them and so long as they live on the hills and drive nice cars and send their chldren to private schools they are totally willing to sell their fellow human beings totally down the river! It’s quite remarkable how easily bought off they are my dear Chairman”.

“Well spank my proboscis and call me Mount Olympus! Put it in motion immediately QwankyQwank76 – and I’m goign to promot you for this fine evil delicious slice of bastardry plan!”

“Oh thank you my great Chairman – how will you do that?”

“Well you are now 75th in line to the role of Chairman of the Galactic Federation – I’ve swapped you with Wartoffaface75, it’s only fair his idea of a fake virus antidote to reduce the population of Earth was rediculious -I mean they are boobs but even they wouldn’t believe that!”

“Ah I am honored my Chairman – now I only need to wait another four hundred years instead of four hundred and seven! I am gracious as my proboscis is long!”

[mutters the words ‘you cheap bastard’ under his breath]


“Is there anything we can spray on these hairy neo-baboons to stop them stinking so much – I’m thinking of an anti-bacterium plasmoid blast from above via our invisibility cloaked mothership”.


“Those humans with the pyramids and the cats we entrusted to carry out our plans back in 5000AD were good, but their distant cousins around now have turned out to be f*cking useless. In fact I don’t know why we didn’t just put the cats in charge in the first place – after all half the galactic territory is certainly still a meow-niverse”.


“Sure the Galactic Treaty says that we can’t push this red button and incinerate them all in one go, but what if I accidently ‘slipped while I was casually finger-drinking this vessel of ka-laka-taki-blurg. If I do that and if we simply decide not to fill out the holographic logbook, no one will suspect a thing! Especially as the average age of a Galactic Council member is seventeen thousand years old!”


“Ok I’m just thinking out loud here…but we really should stop using those annoying hairy apes as Galactic Council branded butt-plugs – but then again we only use the retired ‘Earthling politician classes’ after all. And the funny thing is while they’re inserted we can still hear them complain! I set a motion that the Earth-O-Politico-Galactico-Buttplugs-TM remain! All those in favour please remove said devices and pass wind – all those against stay peacefully stoppered!”


“Well we gave Earth many chances, but they still are refusing to take the emotional intelligence leadership mentorship from the Cats – why those hairy brutish things keep screaming at each other over nothing is quite incomprehensible. And isn’t it strange about the big problems they have – like wasting their entire lives – they barely batt an eyelid. That one good one of theirs named Bukowski was good at noticing those things”


“Ok Galactic Councilors our fifty thousand year longitudinal study of the differences between the male humans if Earth and the female hymabs of Earth is in – I will summarize it:

The men while ‘getting things done’ are – shall we say – ‘always thinking and playing with their reproductive appendages’ and often also refusing to grow up entirely; While the women are still crying at work while avoiding hard labor, and fantasizing far too much about pirates, billionaires, surgeons, sportsmen, the artists, and the criminally deranged. Yes it’s sad but what can we do now? – to squash them like ants, blow them up, release a disease or put them in our soup would be far too cliché.”


“Greetings my fellow Galactico’s. Given that these violent bipedal weirdo’s down there have ruined the Earth-planet system – we here at the Galactic council really should have double checked our earlier calibrations from long ago. Sure as your eternal ‘Galactic Poobah’ – I agree that ‘the buck stops with me’, to use a quaint human utterance. I must admit when I was in charge back then of our Milky-Way-Life-Seeding-Project some four billion years ago, that I rushed through the design paperwork. For that I blame my three headed butler Kaboobaboob at the time who was asking me – pleading really – about if I wanted fricassee’d or deep fried three-tongued-bonkybonk. Anyway back to my mistake back then – later on found I had a remainder when designing the earth-life-system and to my shame, I kept it a secret, hoping it wouldn’t matter. I can only apologize as I correct my mistake by pushing this ‘big red button’. Then Earth will go back to’ square one’, and the correct plan of having ‘The Dolphins being in charge at the top of the food chain’ with occur – with of course the cats being their very capable second lieutenants.”


“Look Beaky-boy, isn’t it strange – whenever I go back into the time-parallax-chronoscope device and into history’s past down there on Earth, nothing ever changes! No matter who I assassinate, no matter what wars or plagues I start!. The same assholes always end up in power beyond the year 2014 – go figure!”


“Ok Ok Ok I agree – we can’t let those buffoons continue. I have an idea – maybe we should start beaming them out by the million, replacing them with equal weight ‘green algal slime’ – after all it worked back in Two-Billion-BC, why won’t it work again? Lets re-run the ‘Great Snot Replacement Theory’! Can I get a show of proboscises – hey hey now stop that Catooboosplaz I said proboscises! Now roll it back up!”


Ok look – while I agree that those apes down their are batshit crazy, ignorant, annoying, smell bad and are generally un-cooperative they are definitely very good at….uh…uh…wait it’s coming to me….uh….uh…I mean they must be good at something…..uh…uh…oh yes I have it! they produce huge amounts of methane! With their constant wind-breaking, and thanks to the ‘greenhouse effect’ – they’ve helped stop Antarctica from growing to ridiculous proportions! I mean we have to keep them just for that reason don’t we? What’s that – why don’t we just keep Antarctica under control ourselves via our advanced tech? Sure we could do that, but then what would we talk about? I mean if we got rid of the hairy farting bi-pedals we’d have nothing to laugh at on our work breaks at the Helium-3 cooler. We would be a lot sadder for that my galactic friends! After all those next smarter on the list of ‘dunderhead level sentient beings’ – those heavy set bald fuzzballs on Alpha Centuri – are not nearly as stupid as the hairy bi-pedals, it just wouldn’t be the same! Let’s keep ’em I say!

“Sexist But Breaking News” ( A Skit)

by Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com

And now we interrupt your streaming service to bring you the latest breaking Sexist But Breaking News, with Earth’s weirdest-faux-alpha-male-yet-still-highly-likable-host…Phil E. Stein….

“Wifewars” (the undeclared WW3) has got so bad that the number of ‘Gnarlies held in purses’ instead of ‘Gnarlies held safe in scrotums’ has skyrocketed to heights not seen since ancient times – namely since 5000BC during ancient Mesopotamia’s pagan human sacrifice rituals.

While it is true that only the weakest of soldiers have been the worst affected (“married & Defacto beta men”) the crisis is now so militaristically acute, that as we speak one in every two men only now has only on average point one of their two allotted testicles still residing safely in their scrotums.

Our military expert Ms Val. E. Hollows could not join us live as she had to do her hair – but we did ask her “how bad this ‘case of the dissapearing gnarlies’ get”? She said & I quote:

If we extrapolate the graph of ‘Gnarlies left safely untouched in mens scotums to ‘Gnarlies held under duress in their or someone elses Wives/Defacto’s purses’, we eventually come to the omega point – where all the men in the world bar one mega alpha male have become eunuchs’

We then pressed our expert on the matter by asking ‘what will happen then’? To which Ms Hollows replied:

“I’m not sure – but I hope to hell that last ever, literally very ballsy, manly manly man asks me out on a hot date, I’ve gone all giddy just thinking about it!”

And with that I’ll sign off till next time, & wish all you married weak-o’s a testicularly safe nights sleep.

This has been Phil E. Stein for Sexist But Breaking News.

Tune into Sexist But Breaking News for the next ball breaking crisis.

“T-rugby or more simply – Trugby” (A Humorous Idea/Blog Post)

“T-rugby or more simply – Trugby” by Martin Anton Smith

I have a new idea “Tea Rugby”. It’s like normal Rugby, but at any moment a player can say “Tea!”. After the cry of “Tea” then play immediately stops & a very big Tea urn is brought out on wheels to where the last play was. The players then have cups of tea handed out to them (in order of total caps played). After the last man finishes the last bit of tea, play resumes with the players returning to their same individual spots as when the cry of “Tea” first went up. It’s kind of a twist on the Basketball “time out” – this is a “Tea out”. The English will love this new idea!

P.S. The amount of “Tea Outs” is only limited to the total tea that is on hand at the particular venue of that particular game.

P.P.S There will be a prize for the player with the “least dirt on his jersey”, & another for the player that “touches the ball the least”

P.P.S If the Tea runs out mid-pour for any of the players, this means it is a “free for all” & whichever team/player gets to the ball first (which is placed at the last point of play) can use it to score a try – with no regard given for the former player positioning when “Tea” was called.

“Jerry & Sam Successfully Negotiate Their Way Home ” (A Skit or Short Story)

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Two drunkard old timers are wobbling back towards home from the pub together & see something that makes one of them become startled.

“What’s that?” Said Jerry to his mate Sam & pointed at a black scorch mark on the ground.

“Oh Jerry my man!, That was our old mate George – it’s such a pity – ‘e couldn’t contain his excitement & ‘e just self-combusted”

“Oh yeah Sammy!, I remember ’em, ‘e walked with a limp used to live for the beers before ‘e got married – what was ‘e so excited about Sam??”

“Well Jerry, ‘is wife had finally relented – after a decade of locking ’em inside, she finally relented & said ‘e could go down to the pub for a few beers with ‘is old mates – so by the time ‘e was ten meters from the pub, ‘e was so revved up ‘e self-combusted! All that’s left of ’em is that black scorch mark in front of us!”

“Aw..that’s a terrible…terrible way to go Sammy – ‘e didn’t even get to the pub, didn’t get to say hi to us, ‘e didn’t even get ta wet ‘is whistle at all!”

“Well Jeer – that’s how many of the blokes are going these days matey, things have changed! They’ve even got a new name for it – I saw it on ol’ Georgie’s death certificate – it read “death caused by overexcitement brought on by toxic marital henpeckery”.

“What are we gonna do about it all Sam?”

“Well Jeer, you get the Janola & I’ll get the scrubbing brush.”

“You idiot Sam! That’s all that’s left of ‘em, we gotta show our respects to ‘em, not scrub him away.”

“Right you are Jeer – what was I thinkin’!? Let’s just stand ‘ere next to ‘im & ‘ave a can of beer & ‘ave a minutes silence.”

“You mean a minutes silence AND a gulping of the beers, Sammy.”

“It’d be disrespectful to Georgie if we didn’t! In fact Jeer – we ought to empty a can of beer on ‘is black scorch too as a sign o’ respect!”

“’ey let’s not go overboard Sammy – have you seen the price of a pint lately! Let’s just spill a few mouthfuls for ‘em from each of our beer cans, & after all it’s ‘is own fault for marrying that jailer henpecky Mrs of ‘is”

“Your right Jeer! To ‘eck with ’em – let’s just nod at ’em whenever we walk over the scorch while comon’ & goin’ from the pub!”

“Not even that Sammy, fetch the Janola lad – looking at that scorch is now is just making me think of that yellow belied boob – let’s erase our so called chum Georgie or should I say “Georgie the scorchie!”.

“Yeah great idea! ‘e always kinda annoyed me anyway…..but Jeer… there is another way to look at it all”

“What’s that Sammy?…& this better be good”

“Well Jeer – that scorch mark will be bloody ‘ard to get off, even with Janola & a stiff bristled brush, it’ll take us ‘alf an ‘our at least – maybe an ‘hole ‘our!”

“………………………er…….Great bloke that George was….great bloke….Sammy…Let’s go buy a can o’ beer each from the ol’ off liscense, ya’know…that Supermarket down there…& one for our pal Georgie, we’ll be back ‘ere in no time to honour ’em & ‘is scorchmark!”

“Jeer, you’re a gentleman & a scholar man! – I agree Great guy that Georgie….we owe it to ‘im & ‘is scorch mark to spill him a few glugs – ‘eck maybe even spill a couple of cans on the ol’ scorchmark”.

“Settle on Sam, we didn’t like ’em that much – ‘e’s worth exactly one can of spilt beer, bought from the off liscense…that supermaket…once a week – tops.”

“Right on Jeer, we’ll let’s walk to the Supermarket, it’s only two blocks away”

“…..Two blocks!…Is it that far??? …..er…Boy that George was a total bastard – no wonder ‘is mrs didn’t ever let ‘em out – am I right or am I right Sam?”

“Totally agree Jeer – let’s go back to the pub & forget we ever met that scallywag…‘Georgie the scorchie’ indeed!

“I bloody agree Sammy! We can raise a glass to ‘is Mrs too! Lively lass she was! Full of joy she was! Never ‘urt a fly that one! ‘ow far away are we from the pub now?”.

“About two and a half blocks Jeer”.

“The off-liscense Supermarket’s ‘alf a block closer Sammy…come to think of it….George wasn’t really that bad all in all, & his Mrs was indeed a bloody ‘enpecker!”

“She was a total jailer warden Jeer! Doing that to that Saint of a man! Lockin’ ’em in like that for year after year! Let’s get some beers for ‘em & us, & we’ll be back tipping it in remembrance over ‘Georgie the scorchie’ in no time!”

“Yep Sammy, I reckon ‘alf a can will do ‘em well enough!”

“Right you are Jeer, as I’ve always said your a gentleman & a scholar”

“Shaddap & get your wallet ready Sammy!”

“….ah….yeah…no problem Jeer…ah are we sure ‘e wasn’t a bastard Jeer?, I mean I haven’t paid the overdue rent this week yet! I’m bloody skint!”

“My shout then Sammy – after all a mate’s a mate!”

“Boy that George was a great man! Jeer Let’s honour Georgie & his scorchie! I mustn’t have been feelin’ so well just then, you know I never doubted old George the Scorch for a second!”

“You’re a strange bloke Sammy, always changing ya mind like that – buy the way when can ya pay me back for the cans of beer I’m about to shout us all?”

“Might be a couple weeks Jeer – I mean I ‘aven’t paid the electric yet either!”

“That George was a bastard! Screw him, screw ‘is blimey scorch too! I’m off home Sammy!”

“I’ll follow your lead Jeer, I know you’re always right! Always ‘ave been! I’ve forgotten about George already & his stinkin’ scorchmark!…PS Jeer matey, when we get to your place you’ll have some beers for me won’t ya?, I mean that fridge of yours is always full – you can spare a ‘alf a dozen or two for your ol’ mate Sammy can’t ya?”

“….Look Sammy, I won’t have you talkin’ badly of ol’ Georgie, not now, not ever! Now I know you’re not feelin’ so well, so you prob ‘ave been imagining things, ‘earing things all funny like – now let’s get those cheap beers from the off liscense Supermarket for me you & our blessed Georgie the Scorchie – God bless ’em! & nuts to that damn ‘enpecker mrs of his too!”

“Never doubted you for a minute Jeer! I’m feeling much better all of a sudden! As I always say – gentleman & a scholar you – ‘e was a great bloke that Georgie, bloody pity ’bout ‘is henpeckery wife. God, I feel like a beer though….I mean we outa get a few extra in in Georgie’s honour, I mean three beers between me you & George the Scorch is bloody nothin’”.

“Look Sammy, I keep tellin’ ya – George was just an OK guy, not good not bad – just ok – three beers is what me, you & ‘e needs…..look at a stretch maybe ‘e’s good enough for me to have three, you to have two & him to have one…ok!?”

“That’s a deal Jeer!…I mean, yeah….you’re right ‘e was just kinda ok wasn’t he, not good, not bad – just ok– same for ‘is Mrs too. Ah that cheap off liscense supermarket beer is just what an ok man like Georgie needs right now! It would really ‘it the…er..I mean…. it would ‘it ‘is spot, ‘is scorchmark, if ya know what I mean Jeer!”

“Thanks Sammy mate…I got ya fella….lets go. By the way, ’bout time I properly introduced you to ‘ol Georgie’s widow soon – I mean after all -she’s an ok kinda lady, I mean – what’s the worst thing ‘at could ‘appen t’ya???”

End

“Two Slaves Predict The Future” (Poem or Play/Skit)

By Martin Anton Smith

Two slaves of equal rank were on their work ‘tea break’.

Their names were Ramthess & Putenalmen.

The year was three thousand BC.

The place was ancient Egypt.

Their conversation went like this:

“Can you pass the leather strap, dear Ramthess”.

“Sure my friend Putenalmen – why not? – I’ve had a good gnaw of it”.

“Ah if I close my eyes & think of a camel it almost tastes good”.

“You know what? – that’s just what I was thinking before I handed it to you”.

” Ah Putenalman, you know what they say don’t you?”

“What’s that?”

“Great slaves think alike”

“Do they? Well makes sense – I mean how else could we all build these Piramids?”

“That’s True Putenalman And do you also know what?”

“What my dear Ramthess?”

“One day in the distant future, slaves like us will be their own Slave-masters & trade themselves to each other.”

“No No No! …But why would a Slave agree to enslave themselves”?

“Well my dear Putenalmen, in the future they will have a system called ‘The First Fifteen Years’.”

“Yes I am listening my good man Ramthess- go on”

“This thing called ‘The First Fifteen Years’ will be a giant encampment for all children pre-ordained to be slaves.”

“Sounds terrible Ramthess! Now let’s stop being so formal lets go by our knicknames: You ‘Ram’, me ‘Put’.”

“Yes agreed – don’t worry Put – it the story gets worse! Now at this camp their are Pharoah agents who are a special kind of Slave who act as an agent of the Pharoah – they will be called ‘teachers’ – it will be their jobs to over a fifteen year period brainwash these children to be both their own slaves & slavemasters.”

“Oh but that’s diabolicle Ram! The deception of it! Just think – that would mean the Slaves would never mount a mutiny! We Slaves keep our sanity only by dreaming of mutuny so we can escape, but if we are our own Slavemasters, how will we ever agree to let ourselves be mutineers?”

“Exactly dear Put – now you see why the Pharoah’s will do this – after all there have been 94 succesful Slave mutiny’s in Egypt just this last five years! They cannot let this behaviour stand, or soon the Pharoah’s magnificent empire will one day crumble into the sands of the great desert!”

“Well, yes Ram, it does make sense – but I don’t think they’ll ever be able to pull that off”

“Why do you say that, Put?”

“Well surely us Slaves will never be stupid enough to agree to put our children into those ‘First Fifteen Years Camps” – I mean we’d have to be insane to agree to that! Yes we Slaves are tired, yes we are downtrodden, Yes we are poor….but we are not stupid!”

“Well my dear Put do you remember that time you were afraid every second of the day because the the Slave-beater said he’d beat you some time over the next month, but wouldn’t tell you exactly when.”

“Yes ram – that was horrible – my mind was scrambled becasue of the constant fear I was in.”

“And do you remember that during that month you agreed to run around naked pretending to be a camel, just for your fellow slaves enjoyment?”

“Yes, I am ashamed to say that I did that silly thing that whole month long – as I said Ram, I did it because the Slave-beater had gotten into my mind!”

“So now you see that what I said is true. From a deep sense of fear, you agreed to do something you’d never do normally. If you were in fear every day for fifteen years straight, from when you were a tiny child right up to the start of adulthood – just imagine how more rediculous you would behave! This is what will happen in the future, Put.”

“I agree Ram, you are very wise, I think this will indeed happen in the future. I am glad we live now & not the future – at least we today can rightly dream of our own small slave mutiny, that might one day soon happen & set us free.”

“Yes Put, I wouldn’t want to live in a future like that either – now what kind of mutuny do you think we should have?”

“Well Ram, bloody, succesful & soon is always nice”.

“Touche, Put – touche”

End