I'm Sorry I Asked

The Planet is Ticked Off ... but not for the reasons you might think.

Chris has been looking for that big break. He has his own blog where he posts news stories. But it’s been more of a slog than a blog so far.

There’s lots of other writers trying this same gig, and there’s more selling involved, more self-promotion trying to get that audience.

He’s thinking about taking some marketing courses, although that would probably not come cheap, and his student debt is already monstrous.

Not to mention how his mother tells him every day (at least it feels like every day) he should have majored in a hard science, something medical, which is where all the money is (although some people will still tell you tech, but try that line on all the laid-off programmers, web designers, data scientists, DevOps engineers, and other jobs with titles that befuddle the boomers who have all the money without having to work, and get social security and pensions, and bought their house for $1000 and now it’s worth millions, plus they get interest and dividends on investments, and have nerve to complain about Chris’ generation not going to an office). But he digresses…

Because today, this, is going to be Chris’ viral post. Today, Chris has arranged the interview no one else has ever had.

Today, Chris interviews the planet. Not “The Planet”, that fusion indie rock/rap/poet band/influencer or the pro wrestler of the same name (currently suing the forementioned influencer for trademark infringement), or any of the numerous The Planet restaurants, clubs, gyms, etc. that capitalize the word Planet.

Chris is interviewing the planet. The planet earth.

His first question isn’t one he researched; it just comes out when the planet sits in the chair opposite him. Chris comments: “Gosh, you’re much smaller than I thought.”

“Have you seen the rest of this galaxy? Or any of the other billions of galaxies beyond this one?”

Chris happily says, “I like to look at stars.”

The planet smiles politely.

Chris gets down to business, because if he’s learned anything, his readership (15 subscribers) likes its content short and sweet, especially if it’s written and can’t be watched or listened to. “Let me first say that I do a lot of recycling. And water conserving. And I’ve really cut down my carbon footprint.”

“Okay…”

Chris had expected the planet to show some appreciation. What about a thank you? “How would you suggest we improve?” Chris asks his guest. “Because I know things are getting worse.”

“For who?”

This question catches Chris off guard. He has never been asked to fact-support a rhetorical statement before. “Well, worse for you. All the pollution. All the plastic.”

“How is that worse for me?” the planet inquires.

“It’s making all your resources unsustainable.”

“Resources? I don’t need resources. You need resources to keep mooching off me. I was fine being a cold rock way before you came along. I was soaring around the sun, enjoying the view, talking with other planets, receiving visitors from faraway galaxies...

“Then, a little indigestion, a few volcanic eruptions—what you might call a pimple if it appeared on your face—and suddenly I’ve got all these growths all over me—what you might call cancer cells. And they multiply and grow and cause all this liquid to start flowing all over me—you call them oceans, but if you got them on your face, you’d call them oozing puss pockets and race off to a dermatologist…

“And then all these itchy little things start squirming around in what you call oceans—and you call these squirmy things fish, some of which you actually eat, but if you got them in your hair, you’d call them lice.”

“But the oceans are so beautiful,” Chris points out.

“Not to me.”

“How can you say that?” Chris asks, which is what he and his friends say to anyone who doesn’t believe what they believe about anything, be it what to eat or wear, or who it’s okay to make fun of.

The planet says, “Oceans swirl, they move, they have currents and waves. They accelerate hurricanes. They cause a lot of damned commotion. When I was a rock, it was peaceful and quiet. Now, every inch of me is in constant uproar. Not to mention, all this water keeps you life forms around. You panic about the drinkable water running out. I see it as hope, because without water, you will cease to exist.”

“OMG, how can you say that?”

“I don’t like you. I don’t like any of you itchy, little things running all over my face. You’re a constant nagging nuisance I long to be rid of. It’s all you-you-you with you, failing to realize you are intergalactic insignificant blips. None of my distant planet friends visit anymore because they’re afraid you’ll find out about them and send your little space buggies out to try to ruin them…

“Not to mention, I haven’t seen family in about a million years. An ice age comes along, or a plague, or some petty argument that might cause a nuclear war, things you refer to as…” The planet makes air quotes. “…a disaster, and I get hopeful. But it never happens. Your lot is still here.”

Chris knows he’s supposed to remain objective but can’t help taking offense. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think these opinions of yours are going to be very popular. I wasn’t a hospitality major, but when you stay in a hotel, I’m pretty sure management is supposed to make you feel welcome. You could end up with some bad reviews.”

“Good. Please. Spread the word. Sing it from the mountaintops: I hate you life forms. I don’t want you here. I want you to go extinct. I want my quiet life back. I long to be a simple rock again, making elliptical trips around the sun.”

“That’s very selfish.” Chris starts to pack up his laptop. “And guess what? We’re going to conserve even more resources, and make sure we stay here a good long, long time.” Chris sniffles because he has a tear reflex when he gets into arguments. “Try to help save you? I’m sorry I asked!”

“That makes two of us,” the planet sighs.

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