My Personal Space Ship


I’m sitting here in my big, comfortable, black leather poppa chair in my living room…and it feels like Capt. Kirk’s command seat. I told you about that nasty knee replacement operation I just had. It still hurts, but there’s no use beating a dead horse over spilt milk, so I’m just going to suck it up, grab a grin, and take command of my space ship again.

 When you think about it, our bodies are space ships…walking around on this strange blue planet, where all the life forms survive by killing and eating other life forms. We breathe the strange gas that surrounds the planet, and drink a chemical that’s stored in big holes on the planet’s surface, because a long time ago, our great, great, great, great grandparents came crawling out of those big holes, smeared some sun block on themselves, and lay out on the sand to sop up radiation from the nearest star. At least that’s what our scientists tell us.


Of course they’re the same scientists who tell us men have sex because these very small, totally insincere little guys wearing Speedos called sperm, fulfill our primitive drive to swim our genes down to the next generation. Which makes the guys who sell condoms and birth control pills just smile, and high five their buddies at the Viagra plant…which isn’t really  a plant. No. It’s a building…you can’t fool me. And speaking of condoms, they used to be in the back of the drug store, guarded by a suspicious pharmacist who you suspect will tell your mother on you…it doesn’t matter that you’re now 45 years old. Now, there right up next to the chewing gum at the cash register.


That could be really dangerous. I mean, suppose you’re in a hurry, and you grab the wrong package by mistake. It could be really embarrassing at a moment of looming lust. Well…maybe you could take a chance if it’s bubble gum. That whole process is chancy. If your viagral parts are asleep when they should be paying attention just once, and you never trust them again.


All us space ships are wandering around on this strange blue planet, doing and saying things that simply don’t make sense. We made up a language so we could communicate with each other…then we don’t pay any attention to the rules that WE MADE UP.


Look…WHY isn’t a micro chip the crumb in the bottom of a potato chip bag ? Why wouldn’t it work if you went out in a boat to fish for naval oranges ? There must be transvestite bears who live in the arctic. Why aren’t they called bi-polar bears ? And WHY doesn’t non-fat milk simply come from skinny cows?


Why can’t we ever admit we’re asleep ?  It’s 3AM and the phone rings, and you sincerely hope it’s a wrong number…but a familiar voice on the other end of the says, “Gee, I hope I didn’t wake you.” And you hear your own voice answer with something like, “No, no…I was awake. I was just up…reading the bible.”


We have certainly colonized this planet, and taught all of its creatures our ways. The camels in Hollywood Christmas pagents have silicone in their humps. I wouldn’t be surprised if some scientist is trying to cross a race horse with an elephant, so the horse-a-thant would always win by a nose. And how come if you want to get your blood pressure down you’ve got to exercise, which gets your blood pressure up ?


Dick’s Details Quiz…all answers are in the current podcast.


1-    What’s the matter with The Washington Monument ?

2-    Why can’t fish see when they’re out of water  ?

3-    What could you call a very sexy guy ?


Dick’s Details. They take your mind off your mind.


One of the things the smart guys in the white lab coats are always telling us is that water is necessary for life. That’s one of the things they always look for to decide if there’s life on other planets. I think that’s a mistake. We need water for our kind of life…because we were originally water creatures…according to more of those smart guys. But I figure, if creatures on other planets originally crawled out of sand, why would they need water ? Our smart guys always seem to forget that God has an unlimited supply of custard pies up His sleeve.


I’m a Pisces. I love water. It soothes me. I sometimes still really  like walking in the rain…or listening to it on the roof…with my Lady Wonder Wench. There’s a story called The Rain in the lovin touch personal audio cd. It’s in the current podcast.


It is a beautiful thing…loving a lady in the rain. And having her love keep you warm…and alive. If you like that story about the rain, just download it from the loving touch icon on the home page.


It’s good…sitting here in my Star Ship command chair…running my personal space ship. And I like being around the other personal space ships that are under Louie-Louie Generation commanders. We have our own language. You can hear it in advertising. In Louie-Louie Generation advertising you hear words like regularity…dentures…indegestion…insomnia…bladder relief. You never hear words like designer jeans, beer, beach vacations, skiing. But you know what ? That’s because most advertising is run by the pimple people. They don’t know that behind their backs…Louie-Louie Generation guys are the bed mates of choice for super models, porn stars, and all kinds of ladies in lingere…because we really like ladies…and treat them with a flair. And Louie-Louie Generation ladies know when it’s time to act like a lady, and when it’s time to drop the act…along with certain restrictive garments. And most of them have experience laughing, crying, cooking, and caring.


A Louie-Louie lady may give you her heart, her body, and her mind. But if you look closely, you’ll see quick smiles…flashes of memories are only hers. Hidden fantasies, unshared longings, past lovers secrets. The Pimple People would call that baggage from the past. How sad. That’s not baggage. That’s one of the things that makes us human.


That’s what Star Trek was really all about. The contrast between humanity and alien logic.


They scattered the ashes of the actor who played Scotty on the Star Ship Enterprise into outer space. For real. They did that. And I’m glad.


Hey Scotty…thanks for beaming me down here…to this beautiful blue planet…in my personal space ship…with the still painful but newly repaired knee. I love it here with my Louie-Louie Generation lady. She sleeps in my old t shirt when I sometimes have to be away over night. But when I’m home…she sleeps right here in my old Louie- Louie Generation arms.

2 Responses to “My Personal Space Ship”

  1. aliasJean Fox says:

    Your story, “The Rain”, has to be one of your best. Thank you for including it in this podcast.

    And Louie Louie generation guys are the best ……. although unfortunately some guys in that age range missed it altogether.
    Booooooo —————–

  2. Betsy says:


    re words, I just read this paragraph — “shall we choose just one word as an instance of the amazing vitality of language? The simple three-letter word run, up to this moment of writing, has more than ninety dictionary definitions. There are the run in your stocking, the run on the bank, and the run in baseball. The clock my run down, but you run up a bill. Colors run. You may run a race or run a business. You may have the run of the mill, or, quite different, the run of the house when you get the run of things. And this dynamic little word, we can assure you, has just begun its varied career with these examples.”