Shpritzing
The Drake Equation is a famous attempt to estimate
the possible number of advanced civilizations in the
Milky Way galaxy. It's an intriguing formula but it
fails to address one essential criteria… language.
Yes, I know. The equation specifies "intelligent
life" but
that could mean alien life-forms that have the ability
to play the accordion but not be able to request "Freebird".
The Earth has been home to untold millions of species
of animals over the past 4.5 billion years and in all
that time humans are the only critters able to communicate
in the peculiarly technical and oftentimes abstract
way that we do. As far as we know. This makes language
a very strange and very rare evolutionary result. Why,
then, should we assume that communication resembling
ours is possible in life "out there" in other
solar systems?
Although many species on this planet, as do humans,
literally blow air through flapping meat to make noises
(This is weird, no matter how you think about it.)
only humans use it to build pyramids or visit nearby
planets or swear to love our fellow man before stabbing
them in the back and stealing their accordions.
By random happenstance our tongues and tracheas evolved
in such a way that humans can enunciate a broad range
of sounds and ideas, though the trade-off is occasionally
choking on our food. While intelligent life (whatever
that actually means) may be rare in our galaxy the
chances of otherworldly creatures developing human-like
language
ability complicates the Drake Equation by a significant
degree. Perhaps I'm just an unimaginative killer-chimp
but I find it hard to understand how an intelligent
race of alien beings can advance very far without developing
something similar to this bizarre method of communication
that simply dropped into our evolutionary laps.
This lack of technical parlance would,
of course, favor the very unpopular notion despised
by sci-fi fans everywhere that Earth will never-ever-ever
be visited by bug-eyed beasts from other worlds with
all the
secrets of the universe to share with us.
So it
goes.
But, who knows? An alien spacecraft may someday land
on the White House lawn and the crew will emerge to
serenade us with a tone poem of their epic journey
to Earth
spewed
directly
from what appears to be their gaping ass-holes, accompanied
by accordion.
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This is Day, ummm, let's say Thirteen of my October-long
vacay from politics. I've yet to receive a full diagnosis
from the doc but I've so far learned three things:
1. I'm almost an inch shorter than I was 30 years ago.
2. My blood-pressure is
too high. (Gee, wonder why.)
3. And my prostate is soft
as a baby's butt.
TMI updates as they happen.
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Today's comic originally appeared
January 27, 2014.
=Lefty=
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