Dude and Dude: Mmm Peachy

“Dude?”

“Yeah?”

“Wonder how long it’ll take ‘fer Trump is impeached like ever’body’s callin’ fer.”

“Ain’t gonna happen, dude.”

“‘N why not?”

“Wrong color.”

“… whut?”

“C’mon, dude, y’wuz watchin’ tha same Youtube I wuz. Ya know what kinda makeup he wuz wearin’ durin’ tha election campaign! Would ya call that peach?

“Yeah-a-ummm, more like apricot. Kinda.”

“So how can he get impeached? If ennythin’, he’s gonna get imapricoted, amirite?”

“Dude …”

“‘Course he ain’t wearin’ it no more, guess he thinks it’s kinda funny-lookin’ on a Presadent a tha Untited States ‘r somethin’. But ya aks me, he should oughta be wearin’ it. When he don’t, he looks kinda washed out.”

“Don’tcha mean ‘washed up’??

“Ya wish, dude.”

“Dam straight. Any color ya like is jus’ peachy wit’ me, so long as it gets Trump’s donkey impeached!

“Hm. So when didya start followin’ tha alt-right crowd, huh dude?”

Whut?!? Where tha hell ya get that idea??”

“From them. An’ you! As if ya didn’t know whut they’ve been doin’ ever since 2008.”

“What wuz that? Provin’ that zombies ‘re real?”

“Yellin’ Impeach Obama! So now that tha shoe’s on tha otha foot … how’re we diff’rent from them, yeah?”

“B’cause they’re nuts an’ we ain’t?”

“Sez who?”

“Sez … Dammit, dude, d’ya havta be a jerk alla tha time? Ya gonna call out yer mom for hollerin’ Impeach Bush?

“‘R yers for screamin’ Impeach Clinton?”

“They DID impeach Clinton, dude!! An’ he earned it, too!”

“He balanced tha budget, dude.”

“On Lewinsky’s dress? Didn’t cut no more ice wit’ peeps than Nixon gettin’ China ta back off an’ start talkin’ wit’ us. He still messed ’round wit’ them water gates. Whatever they are.”

“Dammit, dude, don’tcha get what this means?!?

“A whole mess a peach cobbler?

Close, dude. Ya fruitcake! It means half a us has been, like, yellin’ at tha otha half a us ta impeach somebody all day ever’ day fer like tha last twenty-five years! An’ fer all I know, if’n I’d been ’round ta hear it, fer tha last forty-five!! Ain’t peeps, like, tired a all this by now?”

“Like, no.”

What ‘no’?”

“B’cause, this time it’s fer real, yeah?”

“Yeah right. Jus’ like tha last time, an’ tha time b’fore that, an’ tha time b’fore that, an’ yadayadayada. So tell me ya don’ r’member Ms Grubber.”

“‘I don’ r’member …’ no wait, yeah I do. Kindergarten, yeah? What she got ta do wit’ nothin’?”

“Only tha story she read ta us, over an’ over an’ over an’ …”

“Which one wuz that?

“‘Tha Boy What Cried Wolf!’ Dude.”

“Dude?”

“Yeah?”

D’ya havta be a jerk alla tha time?!?

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Amoeba’s Lorica: UntRaveling

Recently, Your Friendly Neighborhood Amoeba posted an update to the Zuckerberg Magic Digital Profit Generator:

Has the Amoeba mentioned here lately how distressing it is to move to an “island paradise” thousands of klicks from the nearest “civilization”, and still have to drive like he’s on Boston’s Southeast Expressway during rush hour?!?

He was asked how come he didn’t use a bicycle instead. To which, he responded that, for an Amoeba in his seventh decade, living (perforce) at one end of a great hot lava desert, and working at the other end, the distances to be traveled are now too great, and the conditions too chancy, for him to consider trying to get from A to B by either walking or cycling.

“So”, came the rejoinder, “you won’t ride a bike. You hate cars. How do you expect to get around?”

Wings. Whether bird wings or bat is yet to be determined. But the chiropteran version is the way to bet, given YFNA’s long and distressing docket of sins. Some might consider butterfly wings to be an acceptable alternative to feathers and a harp, but they’re not all they’re cracked up to be either.

Meanwhile, a couple of islands up and to the left of where YFNA now lives, where a dude can get out of his car while driving on the [ahem] Interstate highway, leisurely walk up to the 55 MPH speed limit sign, paint a decimal point between the two fives (or maybe in front of the first one), and stroll back to his vehicle – at midnight on a Monday – a vicious argument has been going on for a decade about the installation of an urban rail system, how much it costs, and how useful or useless it will be if and when it ever gets finished. With the obstruction mostly coming from a known paid proponent of the highway vehicles with which people, um, can’t get anywhere.

Yo. Honolulu peeps. There’s a crazy dude hanging out in a palace somewhere south of the Yalu River who can solve all your transportation problems for you real quick. You didn’t know that? Well, now maybe you’ve got something to worry about that’s worth the sweat.

A mere century ago, the automobile was just beginning to make an impact on the world. Two centuries ago, the first railroads were just getting started. Three centuries ago? You had horseshoes, if you were a 1%er. Or shoe leather. Took you awhile to get anywhere. But if you wished it badly enough, you could get there. With a minimal risk of getting into a high-speed collision, dying from blunt-object trauma or incineration or both, and learning what set of wings you’ve earned for your trouble.

And whole bunches of people didn’t wish it badly enough. Spent their whole lives in the village, they did. Happy they were, with cabbages and potatoes and the daily pint at the pub. And they weren’t demonstrably any dumber or more ignorant that today’s standard-issue Facebook trolls with the University of Google at their fingertips and a daily, hours-long, planet-burning ride in a slow- or not-moving car in their present and (for now) future.

People got by, not really all that long ago, with far less mobility than today’s “Don’t Tread On Me” citizen takes for granted. And, YFNA argues, we are well on our way to putting ourselves in the position of learning just how they did it. Or else.

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Amoeba’s Lorica: Learning To Scroll

CAIRO, EGYPT (API*): Librarians, historians, data archivists, and paper manufacturers from around the world are descending en masse on this Eastern Mediterranean nation at this hour, urgently seeking clues to the lost art of paper making from the paper reed, Cyperus papyrus. Representatives of agribusiness interests are also here, and are visiting gardeners, horticulturalists, and invasive weed specialists throughout the tropical world, in search of the information and expertise needed to cultivate C. papyrus on a massive scale.

These actions, and other urgent moves to secure and grow the world’s supply of paper, follow from last week’s global decision to disable all computer networks, in the face of multiplying, and increasingly insurmountable, cyberattacks on these networks. A United Nations official close to the shutdown decision makers, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said, “Between the increasingly intolerable pressure on the networks by the cyber attackers, and the pressure on governments to restore jobs to people that were being lost to computers and the robots they supported, we decided that we could not afford, in any sense of the word, to keep supporting the technology.”

A world leader, recently quoted as preferring steam technology to digital on his nation’s warships, championed the decision, and used it as an example of his administration’s successes in the area of job creation in 19th century industries.

Other people were not so happy. “I wanna cry!”, lamented one programmer who had been working at a major provider of antivirus software, now closed, bankrupt, and under investigation for creating many of the viruses against which it sold protection. Bill Gates was quoted, by several sources, to have said, “Oh well, it was fun – and profitable – while it lasted.” Paul Allen could not be reached for comment, and was rumored to be barricaded in his compound on Lopez Island in Washington state. Representatives of Apple released a statement: “We invest major time and effort on systems that are designed to resist attack, and this is the thanks we get. But you morons all voted for the cheap stuff with your wallets. So, meh.”

In anticipation of the need for a major influx of minimum-wage clerks and scriveners to replace digital tools, Cratchit Guilds have begun forming, according to several reliable sources, to organize against exploitation. The same sources report formation, in response, of Stone of Help Societies by employers, which have adopted the motto, “What Part of ‘Eat’ Don’t You Get?”

Of course, the scriveners, and the debate over their use and working conditions, will be irrelevant if there is no paper upon which to write. As even the most efficient recapture of papyrus methodology will take years to implement, pressure on other paper sources will, unavoidably, increase, and will have equally unavoidable consequences, to the environment and elsewhere. Parchment manufacturers are pushing increased rates of animal slaughter for access to hides, resulting in a drop in the price of meat. The Sierra Club organized a campaign, “Paper Over Our Dead Bodies”, in an effort to protect forests from clearcutting for paper pulp. Owing to difficulties in communications, turnout for the associated tree-hugging demonstrations was sparse, and was met with armed military police who declared “We will do for you as we did for the Indians in Dakota.” Meanwhile, citizen posses, containing a disproportionately-high percentage of left-handed persons, held their families hostage. The would-be Sierra Club dead bodies quietly dispersed.

The situation remains extremely fluid. Follow this newspaper for updates as we invent them as they happen! Assuming we can get the paper.

* = Amoeba Press International #FakeNewsPathToRiches

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