Man in the Moon

One night last August, I stumbled down the steps of Think-A-Holic Lounge after closing time and when I looked up at the night sky with my new binoculars I saw what appeared to be a hideous face inside the Earth instead of the usual collection of celestial bodies that hover above the Lounge. I thought I was going crazy or maybe I'd finally got the DTs from reality withdrawal or caught something contagious and terminal. Thank heavens for that little lounge lizard shit who reminded me that the Lounge is "mobile" and has been for a long time and that I could very well see anything up in the night sky around here.

So, I asked myself last night what the hell was up now because when I rolled down the front steps of Think-A-Holic Lounge and looked up at the sky this is what I saw (see pic). I knew it wasn't the DTs from reality withdrawal because I've never been that much in touch with reality in the first place. And, in the second place, I'd had my usual shot of think-a-hol and a bubbly chaser and nothing more and nothing less, so my "vision" certainly wan't impaired by any kind of inspiration.

I didn't tell anyone about seeing my own image in the moon last night — especially not Angus McCloud, our know-it-all big-ass head bartender — because I know damn well what I'd have heard. They would have said that having my very own website finally went to my head or something like that. And ol' Angus would have probably punned that I was simply a "lunatic" after all. Har de har har. So damn funny. I'm so glad I never even gave him the chance to unleash that lame puppy.

The truth of the matter is probably a lot less psychological or symbolic. I probably just need new contact lenses or something. Or maybe I should stop eating those sausage sandwiches I crave every summer. Or maybe I should "up" my regular infusion of the ol' elixir to a double shot of think-a-hol and maybe a schooner of Buxx Brew. Or... maybe I'm in deep doo-doo and don't even know it.

The Biggest and Most Secret Spy Bot

At Think-A-Holic Lounge, we certainly have our troubles with bots and the worst kind of trouble any bot can give anybody is to spy on them for some higher-up. It's usually the owner of a business but more often than you'd think it's a government agency doing the spying these days, its crooked employees thinking they're legally empowered to spy on their fellow citizens. Wrong.

Snooping on taxpayers, on behalf of their country, is the fastest growing enterprise on Earth. While customers usually know they're being spied upon and don't really give a hoot, citizens are the last to know they're being spied upon by their own government and the first to object when they do find out about it. And that's because all government espionage against the citizenry is illegal. Always was and always will be.

But, even though spying is routine here at Think-A-Holic Lounge, it's even more routine on planet Earth. Earthlings still aren't used to being spied upon whenever they pump gasoline or enter a fitting room or cash a check or order take-out from a drive though window. But it happens every day. So, they're sure as hell not going to want to hear that they're actually being spied upon by the biggest spy bot in their solar system and, quite possibly the entire constellation. Why do you think the same side of the moon always faces you?

But it's not your government spying on you from the moon, or any government on Earth, for that matter. Yep, that's right, the moon is not made of green cheese and it's not hollow and it's not an alien spaceship. It's a spy bot for Big Jack & Co. Say "cheese" if you want to. Or, better yet, just watch your step.

Man in the Earth

Being Jonco Bugos is not an easy job as I've said more than once before. The fact that I'm a published author in my own right after penning Blind Fool Running in 2009 and the fact that I write two blogs, Think-A-Holic Lounge and Jonco Bugos, and the fact that I'm the star reporter for the free monthly online newsletter The Pluto Observer doesn't seem to be enough to flesh me out. I'm still just the mere reflection of science fiction author Michael Casher, not the Real McCoy.

I wouldn't mind being a face in the mirror and all that galling second-class-citizen stuff if it weren't for the fact that I see Michael Casher everywhere I go. I mean everywhere, not just his face staring back at me from his side of the looking glass. For example, the other night I decided to look at the moon through my new binoculars. It was so clear out, the moon had just come up and I wanted a close up view of "the man in the moon."

But I didn't see the man in the moon. I didn't even see the moon at all. Pictured here is what I saw. I thought about telling Michael Casher what I saw in the sky the other night but I'm afraid it would just go to his head.