I have always liked the idea of being 'special.' Not as in rode the 'short bus to grade school special,' more like the really 'should have been picked up in a limo bus special.' But you can't always get what you want and as for trying, my wife assures me that I can very trying very often and she would know.
Anyway, I'm still trying to process this news item from last week which has very much harshed my 'special' world tour and victory lap ambitions. Not so much the chance of maybe another 'other earth' someplace but more likely a certainty that there could be close to countless 'other earths.' That hurts. A lot.
Talk about not calling the next day like promised, we've never heard from any of these places that could be just like us in the first place. Snotty and stuck-up, just the kind of planets we should be running with, indeed. Mean Girls on steroids and with asteroids I guess.
Small solace department: they will soon, or have already, make the discovery that we're out here as well. So much for their special, too. Here, have a moon rock, fellow space vagabonds. They're delicious.
-bill kenny
Ramblings of a badly aged Baby Boomer who went from Rebel Without a Cause to Bozo Without a Clue in, seemingly, the same afternoon.
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