Call now for compensation

Alien Compensation (Reuters)

A German lawyer is offering legal representation to people who have been abducted by aliens. There is apparently a German law which grants kidnap victims rights to compensation.

The problem here is what ancient Romans and criminal attorneys call "mens rea." (Of course, they may spell it correctly.) This refers to a perpetrator's mental state. I can't have committed a crime if I did not form the mental intent to do so. This would presumably go for aliens, also. When they gather humans for their probing investigations, do they consider it to be kidnapping? Or specimen gathering?

The problem of assessing an alien mental state becomes even more troublesome if, as may be the case, the location of the alien's brain is not readily apparent from his or her anatomy. (Not to mention the whole problem of ascertaining "his" and/or "her.")

So creatures from Zeta Reticuli: Lawyer up! Or at least stay away from Germany.

That Time of Year!

Well, the temperatures begin to drop and the leaves begin to fall into little wind-blown piles where they will remain until they are compost if they are waiting for me to rake them up, so that means Autumn is in the air! October is here, and October means the spookiest holiday of the year (next to Christmas).

That's right... It's coming! Whether you call it "Halloween," "All Hallow's Eve," "Hallow's E'en," or "Ha'a'lo'we'e'en" (as it is known in Hawaii), that wonderful, scary day is approaching! And Emil Klott will be on the Case.

I am even now lining up a spooky haunted tour to attend and document for the edification and entertainification of you, my dear reader(s). (I'm just going to assume that there are some.)

Stay tuned for more details!!

NASA Confirms Existence of UFOs

Space shuttle Atlantis (significant name, no? Er... Well, I can't really explain why, so presumably, "No.") has been delayed in returning to Earth because of the presence of a UFO outside the cargo bay.

I hope this will put to rest the doubts among those of you who harbored any.

I am currently carrying out photo analysis (by pressing my eyeball really, really close to the screen) in order to determine the exact nature of the object. My preliminary findings: That's not swamp gas, people.

What? No Goat Guts?

Myrtle Beach, which is apparently a place and not just the name of my elementary school lunch lady (could it have been named after her?), is apparently a pretty backward place psychic-wise if this list is anywhere near comprehensive.

Listed are the psychic services available. Sure, they got Tarot (Major & Minor Arcana), Reiki and Palm Reading. They got Scrying. (Remember that song? "Don't Let the Sun Catch you Scrying?" They don't write 'em like that anymore. But I digress.) But that's just about it! Sure, they list "Divination," which is a pretty broad category and might include entrail-readings, interpretations of the direction of flight in various species of bird, etc. But surely this is an awfully short list, given the psychic services generally on view in public spaces.

Get with the program, Myrtle. Or should I call you Mrs. Beach? (That's what I used to call her when asking for seconds on cobbler, which I never got, by the way.)

List me some other psychic services in the comments if you'd like, and I'll forward them on to the appropriate civic authorities. You could send them yourself, but they'll have more weight coming from me.

Hairy Okies

Breaking news! Irrefutable rumors of Bigfoot (or Bigfeet) sightings in Atoka County, Oklahoma! Complete with photos! Finally perhaps all doubt can be put aside as to the existence of large, unidentifiable, fur-covered things in our nation's canebrakes.

Coming soon... Emil Klott's Field Guide to Crytozoological Fauna.

Minty Psychic Freshness

I was recently popping a tasty white rectangle into my maw when I spied on the gum box the impertinent question you see to the left. I don't know what the other 24 "Dentyne-isms" are, but if they are as smarty-pants as this one, I may find myself forced to switch to some other purveyor of sorbitol and BHT (to maintain freshness). Not a threat, merely a regretful observation.

On the other hand, this ingenuous "ha ha! How do you answer that one!" sort of interrogative pops up from time to time, so it is best that I address it here once and for all and then we can all get on with our lives, assuming we have them.

So. If psychics have psychic powers, why don't they win lotteries? Because psychic powers are a sacred gift, and must not be used for personal gain. (Excluding reasonable expenses incurred in the course of mind-reading, viewing remotely, voying clairently, etc.) It's that simple.

But I am not here to merely put forth my own opinions untested. I am a researcher. So I put the question to several psychics who offer services over the telephone, and invariably got the same answer: "It would be an impious use of a Divine Gift to put it in service of vulgar mammon." And I hope to goodness you appreciate my doing this research, as making those calls just about maxxed out two of my credit cards.

Hopefully I will not be called upon to rebut any more snack foods any time soon.

Weird West

I apologize to all my readers (pause as the wind whistles mournfully and a tumbleweed rolls by) for the long pause in my posting. I did, in fact, launch into an investigation while Out West, but ran into unforeseen problems.

I began my search for Wyoming ghosts at The Wonder Bar in Casper. There exists there the grim tale of an inebriated patron who failed to negotiate the complicated "one-after-another" nature of the steps on the staircase and tumbled to his death.

Beginning my investigation at the "bar" proper, I endeavoured to appear unobtrusive by portraying a real Wyoming bar customer, rather than the international celebrity I actually am. To this end, I loudly enquired what exactly one had to do to get a drink around there, and demanded redeye be served immediately. When advised that there was no such thing as "redeye," I settled for an inexpensive domestic whiskey, but stipulated that it be served in a dirty glass. I encouraged the bartender to set them up so that I might knock them down. I then insisted that he should keep them coming. I also glared at my fellow patrons and demanded to know what they were looking at.

Unfortunately, I may have been too zealous in my attempt to establish my disguise. I say "may," as I cannot clearly recall the details of my stay in the establishment after about the first fifteen minutes. All I really know is that I awoke on what turned out to be the following morning in the bed of a pickup truck bouncing along a dirt road somewhere in Fremont county. According to the other gentlemen in the truck, I had signed on as a derrick hand on a drilling rig. Upon remonstrating with the supervisor, I was told that the next truck back to a paved road would leave in one week, and during the interim I should shut my trap and get up the ladder.

So my investigation of the Wonder Bar was somewhat inconclusive. But supernatural phenomena can certainly not be ruled out.