Going up.


(Note: No images or political rant today. Tending to a sick friend. jp)


First floor: oxygen, nitrogen, argon and neon. Second floor: carbon dioxide and water vapor. Third floor: ions and free radicals. Fourth floor: absolutely freaking nothing.


Okay, well... that's what we can expect to hear as we ascend in our space elevator to what promises to be a very eventful launch tour for our new album, International House, now available from HammerMade music (our own bogus imprint). Why such an unconventional method of travel? Don't ask me... it's Mitch Macaphee's call, and he's not talking to the press. You're not the press? Well, then I can speak for Mitch. He's.... a.... mad... man. Got that? MADMAN! We've been doing these interstellar tours for nigh onto ten years, and every time we go it's in some kind of space vessel. This time, it's a freaking elevator.... just because the guy reads about it in Popular Mechanics. (Did I say "Popular" Mechanics? I meant Unpopular Mechanics ... that's the mad scientist version. Miss a month, miss a lot.)


Okay, so we're all supposed to pile into this space elevator thing and hit the up button. Personally, I'm skeptical. Sure, it's cushy and all that - crushed velvet upholstery, brass fixtures, a veritable gilded carriage of the stars. But it's not exactly... well... roomy. It's an elevator, for chrissake! This trip could take weeks, perhaps months if we break the light-speed barrier (lord knows doing so could mean the passage of aeons whilest aging only an instant in the time of man... think of it.... ) Am I expected to share a relatively combined cabin with my execrable band mates, as well as Marvin (my personal robot assistant), both Lincolns, the man-sized tuber, an increasingly irritable Mitch Macaphee, and Big Zamboola, who's been getting bigger by the day? (I blame pizza.... though that's a bit like blaming the victim.) This is insufferable.


To compound matters, Mitch's diabolical new "temporal depression" device could make the trip seem a whole lot longer. After all, it was through the use of this brave new technology that the last week was stretched into several months of actual time as perceived by us. Who would have thunk that some gizmo that looks for all intents and purposes like an espresso machine could actually stretch time/space like silly putty? Mitch is very fond of his invention, and he has every intention of carrying it along with him on the space elevator. No doubt every time he's a little behind in his chores, he'll flick the switch and turn an hour into a day... or two... or three. Mother of pearl! This tour will never end! Who was the idiot that asked Mitch to come up with a time expansion machine?


Oh, yeah. Guess it was me. Well... I suppose we'll have to make the best of it. See you on Aldebaran!

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