Time wasting.
Ever see that episode of Lost In Space when they're rushing to get the piece-of-shit Jupiter 2 spaceworthy before the planet they've been living on for an entire television season explodes beneath them? Yeah, well ... that's sort of where Big Green is right now.
No, a stereotypical t.v. gold miner named Mister Nerim is not fracking the Cosmonium out of the living rock beneath us (at least, not yet), but it's nearly as bad. Our corporate label, Hegemonic Records and Worm Farm, Inc. (also known as Hegephonic) has arranged for an interstellar tour to support the release of our most recent album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick, which - while it hasn't done squat down here on earth - is selling briskly on Aldebaran, I hear. (Great music always finds its audience. And, well, ours does, too, if it travels far enough.)
Of course, Hegemonic subcontracted the tour arrangements to some underworld figures, as they typically do. That has its upsides, like ... I don't know .... valet parking on Aldebaran? Free breakfast for gamblers? No, it's the downsides I'm more concerned with. Like the fact that the contractors just handle the booking; the transportation is completely up to us. So as you saw last week, we've been scrambling to pull together some kind of interstellar space vessel - quite a challenge in the continued absence of our mad science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, who is sunning himself in beautiful Madagascar right now.
Don't know if you know this, but underworld booking agents take breach of contract kind of seriously. That's why we're resorting to just about any means of getting from one planet to the other. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) helpfully suggested a design for a new space craft, but it seems a little ambitious, to be perfectly frank. I'm not certain that we need anything with forty-story legs and a cavernous exercise room. I was thinking something more on the modest size. Maybe a step up from the 1954 GMC city coach, but not a large step.
Hey, however we do it, we'll need to have it done in a few weeks. Got suggestions? Put them behind the hot water pipes. I'll find them.
No, a stereotypical t.v. gold miner named Mister Nerim is not fracking the Cosmonium out of the living rock beneath us (at least, not yet), but it's nearly as bad. Our corporate label, Hegemonic Records and Worm Farm, Inc. (also known as Hegephonic) has arranged for an interstellar tour to support the release of our most recent album, Cowboy Scat: Songs in the Key of Rick, which - while it hasn't done squat down here on earth - is selling briskly on Aldebaran, I hear. (Great music always finds its audience. And, well, ours does, too, if it travels far enough.) Of course, Hegemonic subcontracted the tour arrangements to some underworld figures, as they typically do. That has its upsides, like ... I don't know .... valet parking on Aldebaran? Free breakfast for gamblers? No, it's the downsides I'm more concerned with. Like the fact that the contractors just handle the booking; the transportation is completely up to us. So as you saw last week, we've been scrambling to pull together some kind of interstellar space vessel - quite a challenge in the continued absence of our mad science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, who is sunning himself in beautiful Madagascar right now.
Don't know if you know this, but underworld booking agents take breach of contract kind of seriously. That's why we're resorting to just about any means of getting from one planet to the other. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) helpfully suggested a design for a new space craft, but it seems a little ambitious, to be perfectly frank. I'm not certain that we need anything with forty-story legs and a cavernous exercise room. I was thinking something more on the modest size. Maybe a step up from the 1954 GMC city coach, but not a large step. Hey, however we do it, we'll need to have it done in a few weeks. Got suggestions? Put them behind the hot water pipes. I'll find them.
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