When we last left Captain Noonan one year ago, the ALS monster was advancing slowly but minding its manners. Noonan’s nationwide cadre of Zooming researchers was busily at work turning over rocks and looking under beds for a magic amulet to slow down the beast, but the creature is a determined sort not easily displaced. Fortunately, neither is the research team.
In the past year, the Captain has fallen on hard times, lost weight, become discouraged and was hospitalized once for five days. He’s been beset by atrial fibrillation, sleeplessness, breathing difficulties, stomach woes and moderate muscle atrophy. Now and then, he has a panic attack. Who wouldn’t?
Nonetheless, the empire fights back. The heart problems have been thwarted by ablation, the breathing issues by a CPAP machine and the loss of mobility and balance by a walker. Sad to report, the Captain has sold his helicopter and his jets, though stubbornly holding on to his Rodin sculpture, a snazzy golden aerobatics plane which now has plenty of room in the hangar.
He has good days and bad days. “The other day I was so sick and miserable I wondered if it was worth it. You get tired, defeated, you can’t see a way out. Other days Tom Brady and the Bucs win the Super Bowl. I do better in football season.”
Just when you think the coyote will finally catch the roadrunner, however, the bird pulls another trick from his pocket. On June 4th, Captain Noonan hung an IV containing a strange liquid next to his chair and let it seep into his body. It was a beautiful shade of raspberry, a neon delight to the eyes, an unproven but promising answer to the heartbreak of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis which for the moment must remain nameless. When we visited two days later, Captain Noonan could barely contain himself. “I feel better than I have in months. How long do you think this will last?” he wondered.
Ah, that’s the question, isn’t it? Is it merely the governor’s office calling with a 48-hour reprieve or is it the end of a long and steady retreat? Time will tell. For now, we sit and wait. The yellow biplane takes note and hums a little song in its hangar.
Not Dead Yet
In 1985, while you were still in your second marriage, a trio of scientists was busily at work discovering a molecule called C60. It must have been a big deal because Oslo gave them the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for the work.
As you might suspect, Carbon 60 is a molecule formed from 60 carbon atoms. It can occur naturally under such conditions as lightning strikes but may also be produced artificially, which is less scary. Ever since its discovery C60 has been recognized for its potential to lessen or at least stall the effects of aging. Recent studies have also shown that it has incredible antioxidant and healing properties. About time, right?
C60 works by restoring four key ingredients that are important for energy production in cells and that are known to decrease through the aging process. Its soccer-ball shape can also absorb free radicals and other negative elements, thus helping to protect cells. Optimum cell function thus leads to proper bodily function, greater immunity, healthier inflammation response, enhanced energy and clearer mental capacity. Wow! Sign us up for a double-dollop.
Past clinical studies have demonstrated that this unique molecule can reduce wrinkles, protect the skin from UV damage, promote hair growth in baldies and support weight management by preventing law-abiding cells from taking a wrong turn and falling to the dark side, becoming fat cells.
“So I wondered where have they been hiding this stuff,” said a clever fellow named Kenneth Swartz back in 2016. He found out and now he’s fabricating C60 Purple Powder, which contains C60 in its purest form and offers a broad array of benefits including the strengthening of joints, improved cognitive skills, wrinkle reduction and the rescue of libido.
“C60 also helps balance hormones and may increase testosterone in men and estrogen in women by stimulating the production of pregnenolone, the precursor molecule to all hormones,” reports Swartz. On the negative side, Ken says the molecule has not yet been trained to call Triple-A if you have problems with your car.
As you might suspect, phony versions of Swartz’s product are flooding the market. They don’t work, says Ken. The faux molecules in plastic bottles deteriorate quickly. The ones dunked in sunflower oil give you yaws. Others are loaded with solvents which will turn you into a werewolf. Stick with the original. Often imitated, never duplicated. Play it safe.
Unidentified Flying Outliers
“Aliens, shmaliens, it’s old news. We play volleyball with them at our house.”---Gary Borse
UFOs are about to make their way to the U.S. Senate after almost 75 years of buzzing automobiles, zipping by military jets, beaming up confused cows and creating ornate crop circles just to drive everybody crazy.
Long, long ago, of course, the government said we were all confused. These things racing through the sky and stopping on a dime were weather balloons, the northern lights, funny looking clouds or the planet Venus. Please. Granted, sometimes Venus gets a little rowdy but it always stays in its own neighborhood. And when is the last time anybody saw the northern lights in Memphis?
Television programs like The Twilight Zone and The X Files pooh-pooed U.S. Air Force denials. Movies like Close Encounters of the Third Kind made us sympathetic. Fears of a public panic over the things are laughable. If aliens capable of making it to Earth had been in a bad mood, Manhattan would look like Craters of the Moon National Rockpile right now. Besides, who says the UFOs are full of aliens? Okay, except for Gary.
UFOs could be anything. Interdimensional vehicles. Phenomena from beneath the sea. New products from Elon Musk. Experimental crafts from the country of Argentina. That’s where all the old Nazi rocket scientists are hiding, right? Anyway, inquiring senators want to know. Pretty soon, they will. A report will be delivered to Congress sometime this month describing what we really know about unidentified flying objects. If it says they’re weather balloons, we’re sending a ruffled Gary Borse to Washington. He’ll be aviating to the Capitol steps with a few friends in a flying disc with a tie-dyed nameplate on the front. It will say “Further.”
The Late Arrival Of 1984
In George Orwell’s memorable book 1984, the government was omniscient. It could hear everything that you said and see everything you did. Although that year slid by without a second look, Orwell’s 1984 gets closer with every passing week thanks to the rude incursion of Artificial Intelligence. According to Microsoft president Brad Smith it will be here any minute if laws are not soon passed to protect the public.
AI is an ill-defined term but it generally refers to machines that can learn and solve problems automatically without direction from a human operator. Many AI programs today rely on machine learning, a suite of computational methods used to recognize patterns in large amounts of data and then apply those lessons to the next round of data, theoretically becoming more and more accurate with each pass. You like it when the TV cops are tracking down varlets in a war room with wall-to-wall screens, but not so much when somebody is tracking down you.
Microsoft is leading a growing pack of companies calling for AI regulations at a time when the public is growing increasingly wary of the power that the technology industry wields. Facial recognition software is at the center of the debate, as one of the first widespread applications of Artificial Intelligence. Several cities, including San Francisco, have already banned government agencies from using facial recognition software. The European Union is considering a five-year ban on the technology’s use in public spaces. What good is the Witness Protection Program if Big Julio can sit in his Bronx apartment and spot government witnesses eating barbecue in Tuscaloosa?
So the next time you’re sitting in your living room watching TV and the cops spot a lawbreaker on the Throgs Neck Bridge camera, please don’t smile and give a thumbs up. Leap off your sofa in outrage and scream, “Hey, Kojak---mind your own damn business!” The next time it could be your mother.
Party Favors
Guess what, boys and girls. We’re making a movie, just like Cecil B. DeMille and Billy Bob Thornton. Yessir, when the Subterranean Circus Grand Reunion cranks up next May, videographer deluxe Bob Simmons will tootle in from Austin with his fancy gear and record the proceedings for posterity. Then we’ll put the film in a time capsule and bury it. In 100 years, when the robots finally open it up, they’ll be apoplectic. “This is some scary shit, Artoo Detoo, what do you suppose these people were smoking?”
Naturally, we’ll be interviewing partygoers. But not like they do on the evening news when rookie reporter Melinda Moonbeam corners a yokel waiting for the bus and asks about some urgent issue of the day. “Way-ull now, Ah don’t rightly know what to thank about that, Miss Newslady, could you ask me again after I’ve had my coffee?”
We’re being selective with our interviews since they’ll be out there for the universe to see. If any of our readers would like to participate and be eligible for world fame, please send us your answers to the following questions: 1. What was your experience with the Subterranean Circus, and 2. What was life like for you in the late 1960s and 70s?
Try to remember something unique, humorous or poignant that happened to you in the Golden Era. Life-changing revelations go to the top of the list. Submissions will be triaged and people tagged for interviews will be asked to report to the Reunion site on the mornings of the celebration. Some interviews will be conducted during the event. All entries should be typed and printed, then mailed to Bill Killeen, P.O. Box 970, Fairfield, Florida 32634.
Who knows---maybe you’ll be discovered by talent scouts and asked to report to Hollywood on the double. Maybe your long-lost high-school sweetheart will find you again after all these years. Could be you’ll get a shampoo commercial or be pursued by your very own stalker. Fame may be fleeting, but it’s fun while it lasts.
Rise Of The Cicadas
Last week, a plane carrying dozens of journalists abroad to follow President Biden’s trip to Europe was delayed for several hours in Washington by a swarm of cicadas which filled the plane’s engine. International airline prices being what they are, there’s barely a cicada alive which could afford a ticket. Ricky Ticky Kolwicki, a 19-year-old cicada from Chevy Chase, Maryland said, “You know, you’re halfway through college, you want to see Paris before you get married or have too many responsibilities, but how many cicadas have that kind of money? Stowing away on the press plane seemed like a good idea at the time.”
The horde of Brood X cicadas caused serious mechanical issues and delayed takeoff. Eventually, White House aides found another plane for the reporters and they made it overseas.
The pesky creatures arise from the ground every 17 years at the peak of their mating season from the East Coast to the Midwest and cause endless problems. Their cacophonous noise aside, the big-eyed bugs also cause digestive issues in pets and this week prompted a single-car crash in Cincinnati. In that instance, a lone cicada flew in through an open window, smacked the driver in the head and caused him to crash into a utility pole, causing minor injuries but totaling the car. “I thought it was a one-eyed, one-horned flying purple people-eater,” said the driver, scared out of his wits.
Don’t worry, though. Sgt. Eric Franz of the CPD told NPR the adult cicadas will be gone by the end of July and we’ll have another 17 years of bliss. “You just have to stay out of their way for six more weeks,” said Franz. “Or you could always move to Colorado.”
That’s all, folks….
