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Austin Macauley Publishers LLC - Mickie Winkler

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89 pages

English

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Imagine looking at everyday life on Earth through the eyes of an alien from another planet. That's right! Over her years in advertising, as an English coach abroad (in China and Russia and Turkey), as a Mayor of Menlo Park, CA - as well as a wife and mother - Mickie Winkler has wondered whether there is intelligent life on earth. In her new book, Politics, Police and Other Earthling Antics, Winkler presents a collection of 54 illustrated, short and irreverent anecdotes reflecting on the unique and baffling habits of ordinary people, police and politicians. After reading the book, Winkler hopes you look at us all with a new set of eyes!

Informations

Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
Date de parution	30 octobre 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781645754695
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0175€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Politics, Police and Other Earthling Antics
Mickie Winkler
Austin Macauley Publishers
2020-10-30
Politics, Police and Other Earthling Antics About the Author Copyright Information © The Watering of the Decorative Tree Those Earthlings The Naked Cop: A Bedtime Story Thank You, Leonardo! Advanced Mother-In-Lawing Shakespeare, I Need Help Being Dead Is So Damn Frustrating Toilet Equity Grandchildless Horny Goat Weed I Can’t Find My Temper The ‘Led’ Pipe The Latest and Greatest Religion The New Orleans Saints ? To Hell with Vegetables! Because I Bought a Gun Economy Class Crunch Boomerang You’re Never Too Old to Learn The Not-Check-My Luggage Decision Wheat-Thin Addicts V. Nabisco Crime Really Doesn’t Pay Cremation: Way to Go The Crazy Husband Club Making My PC ‘PC’ Misreading, Misleading Travel Brochures Outrageous Fortune Reliably Wrong The Downside of Power Why, God? How AT&T and Comcast Made My Doctor Rich Car Convert An Ultimatum to My Hip COP: Controlling Over-Population The Hail Mary Adulting How to Remove a Rattle in Your Car The Making of 27 U.S. Citizens America: The Awesome Land of Laws German Dogs Don’t Like Us Getting Old Is Getting to Be a Full-Time Job The Dawning of the Light The Winners Will Win Outing Sid Jacobs Matchless.com The New Robot Test A Body Camera for Billy? The French and Their Language Me3 Everybody Wins Why Do You Wear Clothes? Be Careful What You Wish For Free Trials and Tribulations Metrifying
About the Author
Mickie Winkler is an alien from Planet Zalaria who delights in chronicling our antics here on Planet Earth.
She has observed earthlings watering their decorative plants. She marvels at the 40,000 state laws Americans pass each year. She wonders why cops buy expensive body cameras when all the cameras seem to fail. You can share her fascination with earthlings when you read her observations, all presented in very short pieces—short enough to share with guests.
“Zalarians were once much like earthlings,” Winkler explains, “but alas, we now lack the ever-entertaining drive for power and sex, so evident among earthlings and chimpanzees.” (Winkler, by the way, has no doubt that when female earthlings achieve parity with males, they too will demonstrate a drive for power and has so written in this very book.)
As an illegal alien, Winkler has zero inalienable rights. Before beaming back to Zalaria, she still needs to answer the question: is there intelligent life on Earth?
Copyright Information ©
Mickie Winkler (2020)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person, who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication, may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Austin Macauley is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In this spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone.
Ordering Information:
Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Winkler, Mickie
Politics, Police and Other Earthling Antics
ISBN 9781645754671 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781645754688 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781645754695 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020918135
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published (2020)
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street, 28th Floor
New York, NY 10005
USA
mail-usa@austinmacauley.com
+1 (646) 512576
The Watering of the Decorative Tree

Consternation
I overheard some friends at my house one night, saying, “Her tree looks more real than ours.” Why was this innocent remark, even compliment, so upsetting? Why did it keep me awake that night?

Background
About six months ago, my husband and I decided we needed an indoor tree for decorative value and to clean the air.
We went to the nursery and picked out a leafy, oxygen-exchanging machine, which according to directions, ‘would thrive in conditions of semi-light with weekly watering, at which time, the tree should be turned.’ We rented a van, large enough to bring the tree home unscathed and religiously turned and watered the tree.

Investigation
The morning after our party, when the aforementioned conversation took place, I carefully studied our tree for the first time. It had a rich earthy odor, which as it happens, was not the odor of earth but the odor of rotting, watered straw. It didn’t turn toward the sun because its trunk was formed around a plastic tube and the intriguing web-like filaments hanging from the leaves were, in fact, just threads.
When my husband came into the room, I said, “Please ask our neighbors not to water our tree, after all.” (We were soon to leave on an extended trip.)
“Why?” he asked.
“Because,” I said with the shaking voice of one is who uttering a repressed and shameful truth, “Our tree is a fake.”
I threw on some yukky-don’t-care-about clothes, drained the smelly pooled water, found the directions on How to Care for Your Tree , stuffed everything irreverently into my compact car, and drove back to the nursery from whence it all came.

Indignation
I sought out the customer service clerk and with controlled indignation declared, “This tree is fake.”
The clerk, a young man of about 25, replied all too readily, “That’s obvious. And what is the problem?”
I replied, “It was represented as being real. Look at these directions that were stuck in the…”
I wanted to use the word ‘soil’ but settled for ‘bottom.’
He read them and laughed, “It is obvious,” he used the word obvious for the second time, “Someone had just stuck these directions in it. And what would you like us to do?”
“It is obvious,” I replied, “that I want you to take this tree, I mean take this thing, back. I don’t deal in forgeries and I have the receipt.”
He studied the receipt. “You bought this six months ago. Why didn’t you bring it back sooner? We don’t stock these decorative trees in the summer time. Besides,” he argued, “This decorative tree smells like mildew. It’s damaged. What happened?”

Mortification
My indignation was turning to mortification.
“It smells like mildew because it has rotted. It has rotted because my husband watered it. He watered it because the directions said to water it. He watered it once a week. And we didn’t bring it back sooner, because we just discovered your deception.”
The young clerk was stumped. Eventually, he turned on the public address intercom and summoned the store manager, “We have a lady here who has been watering a fake tree once a week for six months and wants a refund.” This broadcast not only brought the manager. It brought the owner, his advertising director, and some cashiers.
To his credit, the clerk retained a serious demeanor as he retold my story to his boss and the owner and the director of advertising, the cashiers, and now, a gathering crowd of customers. “This woman and her husband,” he related, “bought this decorative tree in January. It contained a set of instructions someone had inadvertently stuck in. So, following these instructions, her husband has been watering the tree every week.” Studying the instructions further, the clerk turned to me and asked, “Have you been turning the tree, too?”
“Yes,” I replied, trying to maintain a steady voice.
“She’s been turning the tree, too,” he repeated to the manager, the owner, and the ad manager, etc., all of whom were standing right there. “The straw has mildewed because it has been watered,” the young clerk explained proudly to all his bosses, “which explains its putrid smell.”
The owner turned to me and in a steady, slow, solicitous, undertaker kind of voice said, “I will give you a container of Fresh Scent. When you get home, I want you to put this tree outside in the sunlight, so it can dry. Then I want you to spray Fresh Scent on the base, being sure to point the nozzle down at the straw. Hold the can about six inches away. Would you like me to write these directions down?”
Instead of telling the owner what he should do to himself, I said meekly, “no,” and the retinue escorted me and the smelly ‘tree’ and the free container of Fresh Scent to my car.
As we approached the vehicle, the ad director was overcome with an attack of creativity. “Would you be willing to do a T.V. testimonial for our fakes,” she asked and eyeing my impromptu clothing whispered, “You could keep the classy outfit we’d provide.”

Those Earthlings
Daddy, what are they doing?
Who? The earthlings? Oh, they’re having sex. They love to have sex.
But Daddy, how can they like it? They are jumping around on the bed, sticking their tongues in each other’s mouths, making werewolf moans and pig-style grunts. Yuk. Why?
Well, once upon a time they needed sex to make babies. Now, they mostly have sex for fun.
Daddy! You call that fun?
Look. The man can’t undo something on that women’s back and is going bonkers.
Zugo, their whole society is fueled by sex. You see those clothes, makeup, jewelry, hair styles? They are all done for sex.
You mean that guy has his head shaved for sex?
That’s the style. He thinks he looks great.
And that woman is walking on shoes with nails for sex?

You got it.
You know, Zugo. We Zalarians used to be like those pathetic, small-brained, war-making, jealous, and sex-obsessed earthlings. They are like the archaeological record of us. Long before you and I were made.
No kidding, Dad.
Yes, we eliminated sex. Then all those bad things went away, and our frontal lobes grew. Alas, we still