Big Turtles

…like, house sized big

Sorry for not posting anything sooner, but I’ve had distractions and been sick. Not a huge post today, but it is the first part of a story about my Mad Scientist dog, Sasha. I’m writing each part in exactly 5 minutes and will post a new piece every couple of days or so.

PS: Once I completely beat this cold, I’ll resume posting Doclopedia entries.

Sasha’s Bad Day

My name is Sasha Jane Cross and I’m a dog. A basset hound, to be exact. I’m 8 years old, in excellent physical shape and I’m the most intelligent sentient being on the planet Earth. No, really, I am, because I’m STUCK IN THE GODDAMN EARLY CRETACEOUS PERIOD!

For those of you who are not scientists, that means I’m 130 million years in the past from 2017. It also means I’m running like my ass is on fire with an unconscious octopus symbiont on my back, trying not to get eaten by pursuing dinosaurs.

My day has utterly gone to shit.

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The Terrible Oyster Gun

…WTF?

 

Sasha Explains It All

News Of My Death Will Be Greatly Exaggerated

Death. It happens to all of us. Happens to ecosystems, both local and global. Happens to planets, stars, galaxies and some folks believe, the universe itself.

You are gonna die. Everybody you know is gonna die. We are ALL going to die.

The trick, of course, is putting it off as long as you possibly can. Now, we’ll limit this discussion to we Terran lifeforms, because that’s who you folks know and besides, once you get into other lifeforms on other worlds, life and death become kind of subjective.

So anyway, this rant is about me dying. No, I’m okay. Healthy as a bitch can be, in fact. I am, however, almost 8 years old and that could well be half or more of my lifespan, so my thoughts do turn toward eventual old age and shuffling off this mortal coil. It’s a common thing among true sentients.

So, for all of you who just thought “Well, Sasha old girl, you’ve still got lots of years left before your turn in the checkout line”, I say “Yo, motherfuckers, I’d be a pretty piss poor Mad Scientist if I couldn’t conquer death, now wouldn’t I?”

I mean, dude, I put my dying sister’s katra (well, OK, about 80% of it) into a fucking indestructible robotic body and now she’s running all over the galaxy in CatEarth 6 and, barring some really gynormous all out assault by a couple of really up on their destructive shit space fleets or maybe a run in with a supermassive black hole, Lulu will be raising hell for a minimum of 7,500 years.

And then there was the time that I created a living man out of dead body parts using old school 1818 mad science straight out of Victor Frankenstein’s own book! Mr. Perkins is doing just fine, thank you very much, and his scars have all faded. He’ll be driving that RV of his around for another hundred years or more.

Let’s not forget that I have also built android bodies for my sibs and non-human friends to use. Okay, so those bodies were kits, but still, I tricked ’em out in my shop.

And finally, you are talking to the Queen Mad Scientist Bitch when it comes to genetic manipulation. If you don’t believe me, just ask my ottopus…or my flying monkeys…or my assorted dinosaurs…or my altered pig lab assistants.

So no, despite the fact that one day Mom & Dad and whatever siblings I have will lay my lifeless body to rest somewhere, I will not be dead. Body dead? Yes. Sasha Jane Cross, PhD (X3) dead? Nope.

I’ll be in a cloned dog body or an android body or maybe some other species or, more likely, I’ll be walking around in a human body with a few genetic upgrades. But I will go on. And on. And on.

Will I want to live a million years? Doubtful. Will I live a few centuries? Count on it.

So when the day comes that Daddy & Mom announce my death, feel free to cry over the passing of the sweetest and smartest and most lovable dog you ever knew. But don’t EVEN think the world has seen the last of me.

Until my next rant,

Sasha Jane Cross, PhD (x4)

Jollyfish

…MUCH happier than Jellyfish

It is that time of year again, folks…

DogCon 9

Day Zero: In which I once again set things up for the actual con report.

Greetings once again from the Magic Bus, currently parked in the driveway of the D&G Cross Home For Not At All Normal Basset Hounds. It is just past 10:30 at night and with the exception of myself and Sasha (Sasha: Had to pee, then eat a snack.), everyone else is asleep after a busy day of hanging out at the Meadow Room, Slide Room, Warehouse, Living Room and then eating too much barbecue for dinner.

Our con going contingent this year consists of myself, Grace, The Girls (Silky, Sasha & Daisy), our friend Avis (the original, this year. Her double from Earth 2 will be staying at her house running errands and reading books) and her cat Leon, our friend Ginie and her cat Roxy & Spike & Mary Jones. We will meet up with other old friends when we get to the con.

Our route this year is, from a driving standpoint, pretty straightforward: head south until we almost reach Mexico, then hang a left and head to central Texas. On the other hand, from a temporal standpoint, the route gets much stranger. Just as we leave home, we will time travel to 1954 (the year of my, Avis and Ginie’s birth) and do our first day’s driving then. The second day, we’ll be in 1968. Third day, 1975. Fourth and final day, 1986. On Monday morning, when we awaken about 45 minutes outside Critter City, we’ll be back in 2016. I’m quite sure everything will go smoothly.

(Sasha: Ha! We can’t change the past, but I reckon we’ll be spinning off alternate realities the way a cat sheds fur.)

Anyway, Sasha and I are heading off to bed, so I’ll continue this report tomorrow. Tune in then!

The Really Odd, Yet Quite Touching, Story Of Mostly Purple Patty And The Ferengi Outcast

…co-starring her Uncle Zeek Zebrahide

Sasha Explains It All
All The Time In The World

I love time travel movies. I love time travel TV shows, novels, short stories, plays, heck, I love ’em all.

In spite of the fact that almost none of them, especially movies and tv shows, get anywhere near how it really is. They introduce paradox and going back to tell yourself stuff and changing history willy nilly or NOT being able to change history at all or Time being some quasi intelligent entity or any of a hundred other weirdass things. From a purely entertainment aspect, I enjoy this creativity, but as a seasoned time traveler, it either makes me laugh or groan.

Mind you, this also extends to all of the current science you humans have concerning time travel. Which is why I’m writing this, to set you all straight. Let’s do this by the numbers.

1: It’s the Many Worlds theory all the way.

Whenever you travel in time, regardless of if it is your own reality or another, if you fuck with the timeline, you spin off new break points and create new timelines/realities, but the old one STAYS THE SAME. If you are in the current Absolute Now in a given reality, you simple create a new one that starts then (with the unfucked with past being the same in both timelines). It’s like dumping a big bucket of water down your driveway. At first, there is one big stream, but then little offshoots form and then more and more for as the hit deformities in the concrete, pebbles, chunks mud, etc. Time is like that.

Let me explain even better, based upon a story (indeed, the OLDEST story) I heard from the Guardians of the Multiverse. See, when the Big Bang (as you call it) happened, it happened in 9 other quanta at the same time. Almost immediately, these quanta developed differing laws of quantum physics and, while VERY similar in most ways, were just a tiny bit different. The most noticeable of these were the two where magic eventually arose.

At some point, some sentient race in each reality got the bright idea to travel through time and they spun off countless new realities. This happened a shitload of times over the eons so that now there are a near infinite number of realities that get stranger and stranger as you go out farther because at some point they touch and blend with other realities to form new realities. Trust me folks, it will make your head spin to think about it for too long.

2: There is no such thing as paradox.

If you read the above, you should understand why. Go back in time and kill your grandfather? Sure you can! But you’ll find yourself back at your Absolute Now with no change in history. Meanwhile, some other you has just pulled off a hell of a murder/suicide. Or he gets a new, different grandfather. Or both, in TWO new timelines.

3: You can MAKE history, but not change it.

Example: My dad went back in time to stop Ronald Reagan from ever entering politics, or, in a few instance, get him to remain a liberal Democrat. He succeeded every time, but, not in our timeline. In OUR timeline, his repeated appearances, even though he was well disguised, convinced Nancy Reagan that some force (possibly connected to astrology, but who the hell knows) wanted Ronnie to become a conservative and run for governor of California. Which he did, of course, much to Daddy’s eternal disgust.

Another example: We are back in the past on holiday in England in 1870 and Lulu is in a flashy looking robot body that I had made to look like a big black dog. While romping in a meadow, she is talking to Mom about various things and a man hears her. This man, who was on the bleeding edge of insanity anyway, thinks he is hearing the Devil in canine form (the legendary Black Dog) and next thing you know, he’s killing hookers in Whitechapel. Note: I didn’t figure this out until I was bored one rainy day and thought, “hey, I’ll go find out who Jack the Ripper was”. Sadly I can’t tell you who he was because I neuralized myself to forget his name.

 

4: Actually, you CAN have your historical cake and eat it, too.

So, suppose one night at a big gaming con a bunch of gamers, game designers and generally smart and geeky folks got to talking about temporal paradox and time travel and changing history (believe me, this is perhaps the LEAST strange thing they discussed) and they formulated the idea of going back to save Lincoln by replacing him with a clone or Life Model Decoy or something just before Booth fires the bullet. They turned the subject every which way but loose before going on to discuss vampires shaving or some shit.

And then the very next day, Daddy and Uncle Spike asked if I could whip up a clone of Abraham Lincoln. I have DNA samples from many famous people, so using temporal folding and speed cloning (during which the clone ages at about 300 times the normal rate, until you hit it with Olzaxoril, which will make it age normally for a short time) I had them a clone ready in only a couple of hours.

Then, using a Katra Replicator (that Daddy should have had no idea how to use but used it perfectly anyway!), Daddy & Uncle Spike went back in time, duplicated Lincoln’s katra the night before the assassination, put the katra into the clone and swapped him out for the original just before President and Mrs L left for the theater. Then they brought the real Lincoln here to (at the time 2014) our house. Well, it was actually the Bus. but you get the idea.

They explained to old Abe how things were and to his credit, Abe accepted his fate pretty quickly. Of course, they had shot him up with a very mild sedative first. Then, after some hours of discussion, it was decided that Mr. Lincoln would be treated with Rejuvinol to take him back to about 30 years old, given a bit of cosmetic surgery, cured of his depression, and taken to the year 1955 where he would find work as a history teacher and a Lincoln impersonator. He loved both jobs and died a happy man in 2015.

Having succeeded once. Daddy and Uncle Spike pulled the old switcheroo many more times. Some of those people are teenagers today and will no doubt have some effect on the future.

 

5: You can’t go into the future, but the future can come back to you.


Okay, this is kind of a mindfucker. Time travel is one way except for you returning to your Absolute Now. You cannot go into the future because it is just a zillion possibilities. But, just as we can into the past, so can folks from the future. And, just like us, they cannot change their past which is our present. It’s all rather strange, so time travelers from different eras try to just avoid one another.

That being said, you can quite easily travel into other timelines that are ahead of ours. Just last week, Mom and Silky popped over to an Earth that is several decades ahead of us to get some groceries cheap because due to global climate change, that Earth does all their farming in tower farms and has wonderful organic food available all year. Of course, they also have to feed only 4.25 billion people, down from 5 billion a couple of years ago. Climate change is driving millions off planet and killing millions more. But damn, the fruits & veggies are great.

6: You can’t go back and talk to yourself.

The upshot of even being too near your past self is that you get a blinding headache. You need to be at least 150 feet away to not get what Mom calls “brainstabbed”. This is why Dad, Mom Auntie Mary and Uncle Spike have to stay in different areas each time they go back to Woodstock in our timeline. In other timelines, like the one where Jethro Tull and Led Zeppelin played, they are ok to stand right next to the other versions of themselves.

So yeah, you’re thinking how you could call yourself or write a letter telling you to how to make millions or not marry that cheating son of a bitch or get free of that goddamn yard you share with those two stupid fucking lab mixes. Well, you can do that, but as we’ve stated all along here, it just spins off a new timeline or causes you to do what future you was trying to prevent.

7: On the other hand, time travel is easier than you think.


Provided, of course, you have all the right equipment. The dead easiest way to time travel is by sending your consciousness back in time to an earlier version of yourself or even another person entirely. Actually, this happens to some people spontaneously and it drives them insane. More than a few of the mentally ill folks you see out on the street are bouncing back and forth in time. Of course, others are mutants or aliens or even messed up androids, but that’s for another rant.

The big myth about time travel is that it takes enormous power to accomplish. I mean, there are physicists who say it would take all the energy in the universe. Well, their asses are sucking swamp water, because I’ve met time travelers who powered their machines with everything from fusion power plants to D cell batteries (admittedly, 560 of them, but still…) to methane gas. They all worked just fine and no universes were hurt. So go ahead, build your time machine! Odds are, it won’t work, but then again, it might.

8: Stepping on a goddamned butterfly will only affect the butterfly.

Sorry, Mr. Bradbury and all you chaos theorists, but that shit just doesn’t happen. Plenty of butterflies and bugs and shit out there.

Well, folks, I could go on at length here, but a bitch needs her beauty sleep. At least now you can relax knowing that no matter what we do as we travel around in the Bus, we can’t fuck up the past.

Until my next rant,

Dr. Sasha Jane Cross, PhD

Mrs. Wangdoodle Takes A Selfie

…to put on her Facebook page

Hey, look! It’s a new entry for Life On The Magic Bus! Yay!

Life On The Magic Bus

WARNING! WARNING! Temporally Displaced Post! This Post Is From The FUTURE. Read At Your Own Risk!

Doc Clay was racing along on inline hoverskates at about 25 miles an hour. The giant mutant rat behind him was closing the gap at 28 miles per hour.

“SHIT!, he yelled, “Here we come!”

Doc passed under a low hanging branch and, a few seconds later, so did the rat. The difference was that Doc did not encounter the business end of a Urokan Vibronic Pickaxe and the rat did. It’s head exploded in a spray of blood & gore and the body tumbled about 30 feet before it stopped. A moment later, Sasha swung down gracefully from the branch using her Ottopus tentacles. She was covered in that blood & gore and hoisted the pickaxe above her head before shouting “Who’s the killer bitch around here? This gal!”

Doc chuckled at that. It was true enough. He and Sasha had been using this some ploy to kill these goddamn rats for a week now, ever since the Magic Bus had been forced to stop for repairs on this post apocalyptic version of Earth.

Yeah, yeah”, he said, “You’re a badass, Now let’s get you cleaned up before the Mom Unit sees you.”

Back at the bus, he hosed Sasha off until she was mostly clean, then sent her inside to be properly washed up by a SmartBot while he washed his hands under the faucet. Despite this world being devoid of human life, he had to admit that 3,000 years of letting Mother Nature have her way with it had turned out pretty well, giant carnivorous rats aside. It was a very peaceful place to break down.

Well, “break down” wasn’t quite the term for it, but it was easier to say than “Stopped because the bus caught a nasty cold”. A bit easier on the brain, too.

He dried his hands and did some stretching moves. 68 years old was probably not the optimal age for hoverskating hell bent for leather through a forest with a giant mutant rat hot on your ass. It was fun, though, despite what Grace, Avis and his other two dogs said. And it would be a great story to tell the grandkids once he got home.

He paused before going inside, so he could watch a flock of what he called Golden Day Bats pass overhead. They were the size of fruit bats back home, but completely diurnal and insectivorous. Beautiful.

Then he went inside the bus and took a long shower before dinner.

Fig Soup

…hot or cold

Sasha Explains It All

MALES!!!

What the hell is it with males? Does having a penis shut off half of the brain? I don’t include testicles here, because when you’re a dog, they are often missing on your male partners. But they all have a dick and half the time it’s all they think with and the rest of the time they barely think at all! I am reliably told by most of the female humans I know that this is why civilization is so fucked up.

Okay, so here is what prompted this rant. As some of you might know, I have two main DWBs (Dogs With Benefits), Buster and Moose. Buster is my age, 6, and Moose is 4. Much of the time, either or both (Don’t you dare act shocked, humans. Most of you have probably done a threesome at least once) of them are up for some sex, even if it’s just a quicky. But other times, it’s all “sorry, baby, but me and the guys are gonna chase rabbits or go pee on stuff or bark at birds or roll in a dead squished possum”. I mean, there is hot coochie ready for lovin’ and they’ve got to go chase a damned jackrabbit? WTF? They can’t wait 10 minutes? Odds are they won’t catch the rabbit anyway.

So that happened today. Buster, Moose, my good old backup pal Darby, even that hyperactive fox terrier on the next block, all going off to do male stuff. No love for Sasha (or Silky, but she’s mellower about it) today. “Maybe this evening”, Buster said. “How about tomorrow”, Moose asked.

Well to hell with those guys! The vagina train has left the station, boys, and you weren’t on it! 90 day Bad Dog timeout for you! I’m going to go check out that little pit bull/spaniel mix over on the next block. Or maybe that young husky 3 blocks west of here. Or maybe I’ll just build a male dog android! You wouldn’t find him passing up a good time just so he can go roll in a dead possum!

(Note: I have nothing against rolling in road kill and in fact enjoy it, but mama has been working hard in her lab and was looking for a bit of the old in & out, ya know?)

Now, don’t go writing and telling me that all males aren’t dumbfucks. I know they aren’t. Well, at least not all the time. But damn, they can be pretty fucking obtuse.

Anyway, thanks for listening to my sexually frustration based rant. I’m sure I’ll be fine after I go call on that young good looking husky.

Until my next rant,

Dr. Sasha Jane Cross, PhD

Chapter 305: In Which Our Hero Herds Sheep And Drinks Overly Sweet Wine While Eluding An Angry Scotsman

…although once the Scotsman saw the sheep, he calmed right down

 

TWO blog posts in one day? Thank Sasha for this one.

Sasha Explains It All

Reader Mail

Hi there, folks! For this entry, I thought that I might FINALLY get around to posting some answers to some of my voluminous reader mail, so here we go.

In an email, Ms. A. C. writes: “Just how big is the inside of the Magic Bus?”

A great question, but one that is not easily answered. See, certain of the rooms adjust their size depending upon how many people are on the bus. The living room is particularly adept at that. Then we have the problem of new rooms (like the Forest Room and the infamous Dungeon) popping in from time to time. And that damned Warehouse just will NOT allow you to get an accurate measurement!

The best ballpark figure I can give you (which does not include the area under the main living areas) is about 3 square miles.

A personal message from Robin asks: “How can you justify creating a nearly indestructible dog with such destructive tendencies, then giving an equally crazed cat a suit of power armor? Have you no morals? No conscience?”

Since that is actually a three part question, I shall answer each part in turn. A: I’m a Mad Scientist. We do not justify what we do, we do it because we can. Also, my sister was dying. B: Being mad means having a more “adaptable moral structure”, to quote my Dad. C: Nope, nope. Not a whole hell of a lot of conscience to speak of.

I hope that cleared things up.

Ms. Bonnie, from Seattle, asks: “Why are so many humans so fucked up?”

Man, talk about a question that could fill several books. Anyway, Bonnie, I think it mostly comes down to religion. When you have an idea that promotes one species above all others as special, then give that species one of the premiere creative brains on the planet, you are asking for trouble. It also doesn’t help that humans, like chimps, are a violent species. When you toss in politics (at least, human politics) and the damned near universal mammalian habit of males thinking with their dicks, you end up with some really bad hairless apes. We can only hope they wise up fast or, barring that, die off in droves.

An email from Justin asks: “Can you tell us about some alternate world Canadas?”

Sure, Justin! I’ll tell you a bit about three of them.

In the first Canada, there is no poutine or hockey. Neither one ever really caught on for some reason. It is a sad place to visit, although the sport of Bear Teasing is kind of fascinating to watch. By the way, 80 years into it, the score is Bears: 39,753 Humans: 0.

In the next Canada, the entire population of the UK and much of Ireland moved there when the British Isles sank into the ocean in 1835 thanks to the machinations of Professor Demonicus. Canada became the jewel of the British Empire, at least until the Empire exploded. Even today, it is the #2 superpower in the world, after the United States. Both nations work together to make sure that never changes.

The third Canada was invaded by Martians in 1950, but these Martians were only 3 feet tall and very friendly. There were only 278,000 of them and the were allowed to settle in the northern parts of Alberta and parts of the southern Northwest Territory. They soon fitted right in and became valued members of Canadian society. It didn’t hurt that their poop contains large quantities of precious metals and rare earths.

Well, folks, that’s all for now.

Until my next rant,


Dr. Sasha Jane Cross, PhD