Blog Post

So it looks like some of the cities have finally started to get fed up and are kicking out the Occupy Wall Street folks.

I have to say, I'm fairly happy about this. Mostly because they stole my idea.

A lot of people aren't aware that OWS grew out of a smaller group of people who were known as Occupy NASA. Specifically, it was a group of four: me and three friends. All right, it was me, two imaginary friends, and a rock that I found and named Lenny.

Still, there we were, camped outside of NASA. Why? Because of the whole Pluto debacle. Even though the NASA fat-cats knew from the very beginning that Pluto was a teeny-tiny speck in the solar system, they still called it a planet. And then, after I had invested my hard-earned money on Pluto related items, like the Pluto lunchbox, the Pluto skateboard, and the set of six matching place mats that had a picture of the entire solar system (including Pluto!) on them, then NASA pulled the ol' switcheroo.

"Nope," said NASA. "Pluto's not a planet any more. It's just a planetoid. Or a meteor or a really big space ball or something."

They tried to pawn it off on science, but me (and my imaginary friends and Lenny) were un-fooled.

Yes, I said un-fooled. Deal with it.

So anyway, we were un-fooled. We knew that it was all a cash grab. The NASA fat-cats and their cronies in the lunch box, skateboard, and place mat industries knew that, unless they were extremely lucky and the sun exploded, causing a complete shift in the solar system, they were going to be locked into the same boring eight planets for literally hundreds of years. That's what's called a "static product base." So they devised a plan:

Step 1) Make up a "fake" planet, which they would name after Mickey Mouse's dog (for even more product tie-ins!).

Step 2) Convince hundreds of billions of people all over the world to buy their "Pluto" stuff.

Step 3) And then, when the market was saturated and sales became flat, they would revamp the system by "discovering" that Pluto wasn't really a planet.

Bam! Suddenly all those lunchboxes, and skateboards, and place mats (to say nothing of the Pluto-themed video games, chainsaws, and birth control devices) were irrelevant, incorrect, and the sign of a person who was not keeping up with current events.

And it worked. Studies have shown that after Pluto was demoted, entire economies sprung into being to meet demand for "New" solar system products. The internet itself was invented as a marketing springboard for this plan.*

Well me and my imaginary friends (and Lenny) weren't going to take that sitting down. Or rather, we were going to take it sitting down, but wanted to sit down where our sitting would do the most good: in front of NASA. So we were civilly disobedient. We stayed on NASA's front lawn for sixteen straight months. Eating there, sleeping there, and even hosting the occasional Ingrid Bergman retrospective there.

Alas, it all started to fall apart the night I was accosted by one of my imaginary friends. Actually, to be technically correct, I was attacked by the anarchist imaginary acquaintance that one of my imaginary friends had invited to stay with us for Occupy NASA. The media, though, (predictably) blew the whole thing out of proportion, and so the blame for the ugly incident fell, not upon the imaginary anarchists of the world, but upon the peace-loving and well-ordered people who were REALLY at the heart of Occupy NASA (me, the two friends, and Lenny).

We were determined never to let that happen again. So we devised an internal security council, and several nights later, when one of my imaginary friends was beaten within an inch of his imaginary existence by a wandering minstrel (whom we believe was hired by McDonald's to infiltrate our camp because McDonald's Happy Meals were major backers of the "New" line of solar system products), we proved that we could take care of ourselves. We found the wandering minstrel and gave him a stern talking to. We took away his lute for fifteen minutes. We even gave him a "time out." Which really took the wind out of his peanut butter sandwich, let me tell you. His spirit and capacity to do evil was utterly broken. Although he did take up the kazoo some years later, so I guess he could still do SOME evil.

But all our efforts were to no avail. My imaginary friend wanted to go to the police, in spite of the actions of our security council. We tried to convince him not to, but he wouldn't listen.

You all know the rest of the story. The police lost faith in us. There was a media fire storm. Eventually, we were forcefully removed from our campsite in front of NASA by a pair of men who asked us politely to leave. It stung.

But not as much as this Occupy Wall Street thing. Because in spite of it all, when it comes right down to it, they're making the same arguments that me and my pals and Lenny made. I'm planning on filing suit to stop them from making their arguments on the basis that as MY original intellectual property, they have to pay me a royalty for every Occupier worldwide.

I think I have a case. I really do.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go do some research. I've just heard the very disturbing news that there's something fishy going on with Uranus.

* Yes, I know that Al Gore invented the internet some months before the Pluto debacle. That just goes to show you how far back "they"** knew this was all going to happen.

** Don't ask who "they" are. If you don't know already, chances are extremely slim that "they" will ever let you find out. But trust me when I say that "they" are not to be trifled with: "they" are so tough that "they" have been known to beat people to death using other people who they had already beaten to death. At least, this is known to those who are in the know. Those who aren't in the know are unlikely to know what is generally known about "they."

About the author

Michaelbrent is...aww, shucks. If you haven't bothered to read the bio, you ain't gonna read it here! But even if you don't care about li'l ol' me, be sure to pass this blog on to your friends. The more the merrier!

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