Angels, Aliens, Marx, and Me

A lot of people, at least in the United States of America, believe that aliens have recently visited planet earth or that angels walk around and protect them each day, especially during those events in their lives when their luck has changed from bad to good. I’ve been lucky because I have been kidnapped by aliens. I meet them and greet them when I encounter them in human form on the street and in the bar. To be more accurate, the aliens I have met at the bar are alien angels. Yes, aliens who have passed into the great beyond and come back as alien angels dressed in human form. I cannot tell you how exciting it is to get the best of three worlds or realms, or whatever you want to call them: other planets, the great beyond, and planet earth. I renew my acquaintance with aliens I’ve met who have since died and returned as angels in human form. I swear, the last one I met looked like she had recently had a really good boob job, but I was too shy to ask.

But that is not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about Karl Marx. I was talking to a guy at the bar the other week, a guy who has the same opinions as mine about the sorry state of America. I mentioned in passing that there could be a turn toward Marx if things keep going the way they are. He agreed, although he had had more to drink than me and might have assented to a lot of my assertions if I had pressed the points.

A lot of people associate Marx with Das Kapital and the Soviet Union and such, but as I recall he had many interesting philosophical insights, insights not entirely to be sold at deep discount.

So, I might reread some Marx and see if any of his metaphors are apt. It might force me to read some Hegel, but I don’t know about that. Reading Hegel seems extreme. Life is short unless you are an alien angel.

Several times in history people have emerged as thinkers who dominate thought for a hundred years or so. I’m wondering if something is happening in my life where I am being pointed in that direction, to be that next guy. Aliens, Angels, Marx, and Heidegger. The coincidence of thought and event seems too uncanny to be merely chance. Plus, I won 9 of 12 bets during the football playoffs.

I could be the guy destiny is calling. I could be the guy tapping into the mother lode of universal energy and thought, and helping redirect history and thinking.

On the other hand, I could just be a guy reading too many dead philosophers, watching too much TV, and drinking too much beer at the bar.

I will stand by my statement about the alien angel with the really good boob job until somebody proves me differently.