I resolve to watch Real Stories of the Highway Patrol. I resolve to watch Extra, American Journal, and America’s Dumbest Criminals. Have you been to Algeria? You know where that is? It’s in North Africa. A little while ago some REBELS killed over 400 people there in a village while they slept. I resolve to watch Baywatch and Friends. We all need friends. We all need a reason for something. They lock up people who don’t have reasons. They call it being unreasonable. So which are you: frosted or whole wheat?

Lasers. They use lasers in space. Lasers for laser surgery. Lasers for laser discs. They’ve got infra-red lasers. For laser tag, for better night vision, for insurgence reassurances. There’s a room, deep underground, where they know the future. It’s all been decided beforehand. They’ve three-dimensional maps and detailed intelligence, the cure for cancer, real cream and not coffee whitener. No one’s sure who exactly runs this operation. No one’s exactly sure of anything. That’s why you’re not in charge.

What would you do if you did know? What would anyone do with the facts if they knew them to be infallible? It’s the Gilligan’s Island principle. You’d think that if they could find the time to invent a device that can vaporize an entire city they could find a fat guy, a skinny guy, two complainers, a prude, a tease, and the world’s most brilliant scientist. Believe me, if you could make a telephone system out of coconuts they’d come looking for you at the drop of a hat. But instead they were marooned. Probably because it is impossible to find seven people on an island in the Pacific when they’ve been locked up in the basement of a studio in Burbank. Maybe because that was the whole point of the show. The fact remains that without the stupidity of its design it wouldn’t exist. Therefore, no one’s exactly sure of anything. It’s better for you that way. That’s why you’re not in charge. You might go and do something like change the rules. And we can’t have that now, can we.

Looking back at the Earth from the moon I am reminded of inadequacies. Of futility and the mistakes of time. I am reminded that it is a small thing in a place of much larger things. It is, after all, one of billions. I am also reminded of an ant farm that I used to have when I was young. It was this little plastic tank filled with dirt. The ants made tunnels, the ants multiplied, and eventually the ants ate each other. I had forgotten about it. I had left it on a shelf. One day they were all gone. Just a few corpses. The dirt had dried up. There are footprints on the moon. Reminders. Fossils for someone to find. The Earth looks small from most places, I would think. Unless you’re standing on it, looking up. Then you’re the Master of the Universe. Either that or a dummy. Flip a coin.

I have no reason to believe that anything is possible. Impossibility is a greater motivational force than probability. The human condition dictates this. And you thought you were upwardly mobile.