A Planarian Original Article
From the “False but True” Department
by G. Lee Young, PhD
When aliens make first contact with us, they’re likely to be the most adorable, endearing race yet known to Earthlings, because, if they find us before we find them, then they’re certain to be of greater intelligence … and the highest sign of intelligence is found in the art of relaxation, which finds its greatest expression in Lounging. Sure, other alien races out there – and here the insectoid, avian and cyborg races come to mind – are rigid busy bodies bent on subjecting our fledgling, ailing planet to their schoolmarm ways; but, luckily, since the Lounging Races are the wiser and more advanced civilizations, such preferred alien contacts will certainly restrain the Micromanaging Races before they dominate us – the insectoids, et al., will be sent to a Cosmic Time Out by our merciful saviors.
So, have no fear. Relax. As a sign of their non-aggressiveness, our first alien visitors will likely refer to our world leaders with their linguistic equivalent of “dude,” as in, “Dude, it took us SO FREAKING LONG to get here – has your civilization legalized marijuana yet?” In fact, our first contacts are probably waiting to introduce themselves until after our world powers get that wonder drug legalized and widely distributed. The hunch at NASA is that THC can enable us to break the light barrier and, in this way, to live a Heisenbergian double existence – as the self-described Responsible People in this dimension, while simultaneously projecting across the vast reaches of space to become the Lovable Pets and Wildlife of the alien dimension. But the aliens are going to find us first, and in just the same way.
That’s right, the alien visitors will arrive via projection through the proper pet- and wildlife-vehicles here on Earth. Read that sentence again if you have to. You may not have seen that coming. And it is only when we publicly endorse cannabis that aliens will start talking to you through your cat, dog, or BEAR, because only then are you ready. Don’t blow first contact! It’s important not to be surprised (because it’s not “cool” to freak out) if your cat walks over and says: “Dude, quit bogarting the ape-nip. I’m from another dimension and I like to get HIGH.” Despite popular depictions of first contact, the last thing the adorable aliens will request is to be taken to your leader – intelligence abhors a bureaucrat. Quite the opposite. The aliens are here to get high and spread the love – the true meaning of the “contact high.” The proper and only response to first contact, then, is to pass the peace pipe. In cosmic communion, remember to JUST RELAX – there’s plenty of time to ask burning questions like, “So, what’s been going on, man?”
These speculations lead us to some important questions about the specific nature of our future contact with an alien species – we must be prepared! We must ask: Which Earthling life form is this highly intelligent Lounging Race most likely to use for their spooky, mind-blowing possession/projection-style contact? For reasons to be explored in what follows, the known Earth species most skilled in Lounging – from most to least relaxed – are as follows: Cats, Bears, Apes, Dogs, Lizards, and Bureaucrats. So, will we be contacted through our cats? Nope, it’s gonna be BEARS. And here’s why.
CATS: The Buddha’s Buddhas
Whether sauntering through a jungle, sun-worshipping on the Serengeti, or just chilling out at your house right now, cats are the clear Lords of Lounging. There’s no lounging position they haven’t tried, individually or in groups, except for the new lounging positions, which they’re about to try as soon as they’re done napping. To be clear, lounging is not just resting, it is relaxing in style. All animals rest, but compare the stationary pose of a fly to the flopped out tummy love of a puppy litter in a fluffy pretzel puzzle. How is it that Lounging is the ultimate expression of intelligence? Here’s how, and cats embody it paradigmatically.
Lounging requires prior cognizance of NEGATION, in particular the negation of DOING SOMETHING. Ask any philosopher, east or west: perception can become knowledge only within the consciousness of nothingness. In a nutshell, it’s only when you know that you don’t know that you can know anything at all. And cats “get it.” Just as French Existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre declared: “Nothingness lies coiled at the heart of being – like a worm.” Similarly, cats lie coiled at the hearth of your house – like a genius. They’re not even paying rent. Even a Buddha has to spout doctrine to explain why it’s okay for him to do nothing but sit there all day. Meanwhile, the cat just DOES IT. Does what? NOTHING. And inaction is key. Any ol’ enlightened being can realize the futility of belief and knowledge. It takes balls – tiny, furry balls – to realize the futility of obligation and action. The supreme intelligence of cats shines through in the myriad, unbelievably cute expressions of futility that constitute the art of Lounging.
But will our feline fakirs be the astral avatars of the aliens? Actually, it’s not likely. Why not? Well, obviously, they’ve so perfected the ultimate craft of existence that they won’t accept the challenge. They’re way too smart to be the aliens’ errand-animals. That would be doing something. The aliens and their avatars will have to have some sense of obligation, while being otherwise relaxed, if they’re to understand Contact as being meaningful at all. That’s where the BEARS enter the picture, if slowly, ploddingly, and only after they’re done with winter hibernation.
BEARS: The Cats of the Caves
Like cats, bears love nothing more than doing nothing. But while cats expertly spread their laziness throughout the day, every day, bears unwisely reserve one part of the year for their lengthy absolute indulgence of inactivity, called hibernation, which means they must spend the rest of the year lumbering around grumpily trying to get shit done. Psychologically, this generates within the bear a feeling of obligation that is foreign to felines. Unlike cats, bears are haunted by the thought, “I gotta get off my fat ass and do something.” This sense of obligation, combined with their near mastery of Lounging, makes bears prime candidates for one day channeling our ultra-chill alien visitors. For bears, channeling aliens will end up as just another item on the Spring to-do list. So, in reality, you won’t be comparing “nip” notes with a cannabized cat, you’ll be keeping quiet about the fish-lipped joint a bear just passed back to you; and through that bear’s bloodshot eyes, an alien from another dimension will be zoning out on you.
Proof that all things balance out in the grand scheme of things, what began as an unbearable annual stop-and-go sleeping/working cycle, will become the bear’s saving grace, that is, once the aliens get here and start demanding that their earthly mediums get immaculately stoned. As the species chosen to inhale the cosmic chemical, bears will transform from grumpy growlers to happy, hedonic honey guzzlers. This coming transfiguration of the bear is presaged by the collective unconscious in our popular modern bear myths, from the placidly Taoist Winnie the Pooh to George Lucas’ blissfully baked alien-bear hybrids known as Wookies and Ewoks – make no mistake, these sentiently possessed interplanetary bears are so BLAZED out of their minds that they can’t even speak. Han Solo kept Chewbacca well-supplied.
The Teddy Bear explosion of the 20th century is just an intuitive anticipatory preparation for the eventual inebriation and domestication of the Wild Bear so that the Alien Contact High can be experienced universally in all households. If you don’t have a teddy bear hanging out in your home yet, it’s time to get one. It’s predicted that the impact of alien civilization will be so intense and thorough-going that the Bear Spirit will animate all bear representations in addition to the organisms themselves, from plush teddy bears to Paleolithic cave paintings. Some believe that this Bearable Lightness of Being is already underway. Why else do they call him Smokey the Bear? There’s no other explanation than that he’s possessed by a transdimensional extraterrestrial and that he’s super-paranoid about where he flicked his last roach. Only you can prevent forest fires, by smoking that thing until it’s gone.
Also, reconsider the lazily slow movements of Teddy Ruxpin, obviously in a pot haze going on and on about nothing until your children pass out. Ruxpin’s first story ever was called (no joke): “All About Bears: When is a Bear Not a Bear?” Answer: When it’s an alien with a chronic habit. And all this puts the Grateful Dead’s happy acid bears in a new light, and it’s a special black light, too, that’ll kick off some pretty heavy rainbow trails. Maybe the aliens have arrived already! So let’s grin and bear it and go lose our shit in the woods.
NOTE: Given the great importance of bears for reasons just described, expect future information on what is destined to be the most important Earth animal ever to exist.
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