Eric Colbourne

OUMUAMUA

 

My snitch, RS from MP, has been back in touch recently after many months of silence. "Government is a dangerous place to work these days," he whispered. "You never know when you'll be vaporized and replaced by a friend of the party. Yesterday, they disappeared Steve Winter, the CEO at the liquor commission. Lynn Sullivan, a failed Liberal candidate was hired in his place. She's..."

"Yes, yes, I heard the story on the news," I said impatiently. "Get on with it. The constabulary is probably tapping our wires right now, just like they did to Donald Trump."

"Rumour has it," he said, "that Big Eddie and Double Dipper Byrne have bought up all the diseased fish from the ocean farms in Placentia Bay. They have entered a price-fixing scheme with the supermarkets to foist it on the good citizens of our wind-swept land as 'gluten-free natural Atlantic salmon'."

Even spouse said she wouldn't put it past them after what they did to bread last year. I think she's coming around to my way of thinking. With that, she cracked open a new bottle of Fifty Shades of Bay and poured herself a (L)iberal drink. She promises to give up Fifty Shades when government weed comes on the market.

Spouse, though, is strangely silent these days whenever I relate my latest conspiracy theory with respect to the Liberals and their collusion with big corporations that provide large donations to the party (hello Kruger, EY, Grieg SeaFarms...). She seems more receptive when I throw a few aliens from outer space into the mix which happens frequently after my medicinal midnight drink.

Just last night, I partook of my usual after-dinner libation, Raspberry Screech laced with bog-rosemary tea, a potion guaranteed to induce nostalgia for better times in our frozen land. Yes, to my surprise and delight, Raspberry Screech has come back on the market at the NLC Liquor Store up on Kelsey Drive, a welcome change indeed after enduring many sleepless nights of silent suffering over the past several months. 

Fifty Shades of Bay is probably fine for that upper-class millennial crowd down at Raymond's, but I have more refined tastes.

I suspected right away that Big Eddie had unloaded his stash of Raspberry Screech onto the Newfoundland Liquor Commission at a killer profit before the government starts pushing marijuana. But that's just a thought.

"I can just see it now," I said to spouse, "Dear Leader will place a Liberal hack, a nasty narco, a sleazy street-pharmacist, a regular in-your-face crooked candyman, on every street corner in our fair land. We'll all be junkies by July."

"Don't get carried away," said spouse. "It's all legal. At least we'll be having pleasant dreams instead of Muskrat Falls nightmares."

We settled into our evening comforts and our usual entertainment from CBC on the old RCA Victor battery-powered radio we purchased for two dollars from the Salvation Army Goodwill store over on Kenmount--since we are regular customers, they gave us 10% off. That's the extent of what we can afford in the way of social media these days.

The evening feature on CBC Radio is a riveting documentary on Oumuamua (Oh-Mooh-ah Mooh-ah), a mysterious cigar-shaped interstellar object which arrived in our solar system unannounced last October. The word oumuamua is Hawaiian for 'messenger from afar, arriving first.' The Hawaiians are very good at cramming a lot of fuzziness into one word, just like our politicians.

This thing is traveling at an incredible speed--300,000 Kilometres per hour (87 Km a second). At that speed, you could jump in your Audi A8 in St. John's and be in Port Aux Basques in 10 seconds flat with lots of time to catch the ferry to the mainland. But who can afford an Audi in this province except Dear Leader.

The CBC host, Andrew Cotton, is interviewing Dr. Jason Wright, A professor of astronomy and astrophysics at Penn State University who explains that the mysterious object started its journey from the star system Lyra some 300,000 years ago.

The Lyra Constellation stands out in the northern sky because it contains a very bright star, Vega, the fifth brightest in the heavens. Lyra gets its name, by the way, from the Greek god, Apollo's gift of a lyre to his son, Orpheus, who played it so well that even the wild beasts, the rocks, and the trees, were charmed by his music.

"I wonder if Orpheus' other name was Danny Williams," I said to spouse.

Dr. Wright believes the strange object must surely be an alien spaceship because it appears to be made of metal, not rock like an asteroid; has no dust around it like a comet; and is sending out a signal like that of a cell phone which could not possible be produced by a natural object.

"My analysis," he said, "indicates that this massive UFO was sent by an alien civilization to investigate what we are up to. I also believe that it may have broken engines and is trying to contact us."

Then the professor drops a bombshell. "A curious thing," he said, "as the spaceship was hovering over Tabby's Star which is 1300 light years away and more brilliant than our sun, the star started to flicker like a living-room light fixture with a loose connection."

"And what do you think caused this phenomenon, Dr. Wright?" asked the host.

"I believe," said Dr. Wright, "that Oumuamua released a swarm of satellites, a Dyson swarm it's called, as it hovered over Tabby. These thousands of satellites are designed to suck energy from the star and beam it back home to their planet. Free power for their grid, no need for expensive boondoggles in that world."

My brain went into overdrive.

"I must get in touch with NALCOR right away," I said enthusiastically.

"You should get in touch with your senses," said spouse.

Oumuamua, the sequel, is coming soon.

 

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