Extra Terrestrial Aliebns
JOMNY SUN — EVERYONE’S A ALIEBN WHEN UR A ALIEBN TOO — 2017
If all humans are dead, I just wonder who cut down the tree with a chainsaw. No, it is not the beaver. Then there must be some human clandestine stow-away hiding in the forest. A naïve revisiting of a primeval world without human beings and yet the earth is going to die. How come human beings disappeared, died before the earth? I would have thought human beings were destroying the earth with climate change and their nuclear weapons and pollution.
It is true without any humans around, trees, plants and all animals can speak as much as they like since no human is here to prevent it, to laugh at it, to make fun of it. But how come all trees, plants, and animals speak English? I would have thought they should speak vegetable dialects, mammal languages, bee and insect creoles. But no they do speak English, and the extra-terrestrial or alien speaks English too with some misspellings now and then that can only be misspellings in some smartphone English.
And can you imagine that the local bear is frightening everyone, not because he is doing anything gross or menacing, but just because it is some kind of tradition for everyone to be afraid of the bear? But that is a segregational cliché, humdrum threadbare shibboleth. That’s what the basic evil trend is that will sooner or later kill humanity: its inability to see beyond differences and to love other people because they are different because beyond differences there is always diversity.
The drawings are probably the best part of the book. We can let ourselves float and fly in this out of time and out of space story and floating is good. Isn’t it what the deadly clown in Stephen King’s IT proposes kids with? And that is good because we all of us remember what it was when we were floating in our mothers’ wombs. Our womb memory is universal and we are all nostalgic about it. So let’s dream a world where we can float and fly at will and without limits.
ET’s home is far away but our home is always some kind of womb in which we can feel secure and taken care of. Home Sweet Home is nothing but the extension of our memory of these nine months in the womb of our mother, the nostalgic retrospective extension back into the future of our past, or into the past of our future. But why on earth do we have to go away from this comfortable cocoon of maternal life?
Maybe after all slightly too intellectually abstract. I must say that this metaphor of a plant world representing the worst possible utopia of extinct humanity is after all a dystopia that makes me, not sad believe me, but awesomely embarrassed. And if it were true tomorrow, if humanity got extinct? No one can care because no one could witness the change and be there afterward to tell us — who is that us since there will be no humans left — what it was.
So I guess the young children who may read this book might be able to identify with the hedgehog or the beaver, but I am not and will never be. So that makes this story outlandish, unreal, surrealistically parabolic. But I do not think in parables, nor speak in metaphors, nor live in tropes.
So take a vacation and go on a holiday somewhere on the back side of Venus, in that long lost memory of Adonis the victim of Venus’ harassment. And no matter what you do you will always be a foreigner to yourself, an alien to your family, and an Extraterrestrial to your friends, colleagues, and partners.
Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU