Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz was not a pleasant sight, even for other Vogons. His highly domed nose rose high above a small piggy forehead. His dark green rubbery skin was thick enough for him to play the game of Vogon Civil Service politics, and play it well, and waterproof enough for him to survive indefinitely at sea depths of down to a thousand feet with no ill effects.
Not that he ever went swimming of course. His busy schedule would not allow it. He was the way he was because billions of years ago when the Vogons had first crawled out of the sluggish primeval seas of Vogsphere, and had lain panting and heaving on the planet's virgin shores . . . when the first rays of the bright young Vogsol sun had shone across them that morning, it was as if the forces of evolution had simply given up on them there and then, had turned aside in disgust and written them off as an ugly and unfortunate mistake. They never evolved again: they should never have survived.
The fact that they did is some kind of tribute to the thick-willed slug-brained stubbornness of these creatures. Evolution? they said to themselves, Who needs it?, and what nature refused to do for them they simply did without until such time as they were able to rectify the gross anatomical inconveniences with surgery.
Okay, the Vogons sound like creatures only a mother could love, and my bet is that the Vogons eat their mothers (or vice versa). In any case, love is probably a foreign concept to these aliens. It has not been part of their evolutionary process.
Happy Valentine's Day to all my devoted disciples. (That number is probably about two or three, my wife not among them. She's around me all the time, listens to all my fears and insecurities every day. She doesn't need to read about them, too. She is an incredibly patient woman. She has to be in order to stay married to me.
For example, tonight, I'm doing a poetry thing. My wife isn't coming with me. I'm attending with a really good friend. My friend and I made these plans about a week ago. Her husband is going to be cross country skiing. My wife was supposed to be taking my son to his dance class. Turns out that my son isn't going to dance. So, that left me with a dilemma: to cancel or not to cancel.
My wife, being the understanding a loving person that she is, told me to go to the poetry thing, even though it's Valentine's Day. I have asked her several times again over the last week if she wanted me to cancel the plans with my friend. Each time, my wife has told me that I should go be a poet tonight. I'm not sure if she is saying this out of love or out of wanting to get rid of me for a few hours. Either way, I will be celebrating Valentine's Day with my friend, reading love poetry at an open mic. If it counts for anything, the poems I'll be reading are about my wife.
My wife and I can't really afford to go out to eat or anything, and we gave up buying Valentine's Day presents for each other several years ago. We do exchange cards. I think, in some way, my wife letting me go to this reading is her Valentine's Day present to me, because she knows how important poetry is in my life.
My wife and I have had many ups and downs in our relationship. Our love hasn't always been easy. It is a continually evolving thing. However, I still find her sexy and attractive after almost 30 years of being together--in one year we'll be celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary. She knows me better than anyone else. I think I can say the same for her. We are best friends, with some benefits thrown in when the kids are asleep or not home.
She is the one constant in my life, and I would be lost without her.)
That was an incredibly long parenthetical passage, but I think it really captures my feelings this Valentine's Day.
Saint Marty wishes everyone reading this post great love and great chocolate tonight.
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