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Sailing between the stars is lonely work. Between me cognitively-challenged crew and my uncommunicative poo, rare is the opportunity to have meaningful conversation with living, thinking, bilaterally symmetrical bipedal beings who aren’t trying to do you, or do you in. This is why often listen to wireless chat programmes beamed into space from different planets along the space lanes I terrorize. My favorites are Blagnartz the Invincible on KZ3493922.7 (“The Wave”) near Beta Lyrae, Jaggranothalokk Prime (“The Immotile You Call Home”) near the Eagle Nebulae, and on Terra (aka, “Earth”), I love to listen to Delilah (“I’ll Make You Cry So Hard You’ll Feel Like You Have Lady Parts”).

Ah!! And also, whenever I’m on the seamy lefthand side of Terra I sometimes listen to a group of bipeds what calls themselves “The Regular Guys“. They talk about poop, and breasts, and other simple pleasures of the pirate life, like inbreeding and rutting. In a fit of extreme boredom last week I dashed off an electronic letter to Lawrence WACHS, Commander of the Regular Guys, and today (or a day very much like today) that letter was read aloud over the wireless, much to my delight.