The mysteries of the universe or B Batteries can be unlocked by simply deciding to “Ask Bob” a question. -He has a degree in SCIENCE! –
Several weeks ago, I was asked: “Why are there no B batteries?”
I reviewed hundreds of periodicals and newspapers to try to find the answer to this mystery. I was led to mysterious happenings in an area of Nebraska called two rivers, just north of Omaha.
Strange happenings in that area, just prior to the invention of the battery, I found that this area also became a hot spot a hundred years later, by the FBI.
So just what happened?
According to local stories handed down from generations, an alien spacecraft sort of crash landed in the mud. After some help from one of the locals, they pulled the craft out of the mud and water only to find all the ships controls didn’t work because all the batteries in the consoles got water shorted from water that spilled into the ship when they opened the door.
Well, that alien mechanic saw the mess and replaced all the old batteries with fresh new ones.
Now, as everybody knows it’s a strict rule not to litter on other planets, but that space mechanic didn’t care much for rules and just threw them old batteries out all willy-nilly. Scattered around the ship was every battery that had been replaced, which was pretty much every sort of battery there was, except B batteries. By chance, no “B” size batteries needed changing. When he finished with the spaceship, they had their picnic and invited the farmer to join them.
Wanting to be a gracious host, the farmer offered them some of his homemade cigars he made from plants that grow locally. “I don’t have a peace-pipe, but I do got this cigar I made myself, from wild wood flowers.” He took a big drag and held it in. While coughing up smoke, he warned the aliens, “Don’t take too big of a drag, this is the good stuff. First time I tried it, things got fuzzy and things got blurry, then everything was gone. When I woke up, I was naked, singing atop a windmill…I think I flew up there.”
The alien took the cigar, looked it over with squinted eyes and gave it a sniff. “Don’t worry, this couldn’t be any stronger than that stuff they got on Altairies-7.”
I guess that farmer got the munchies and ate too much of that alien food which gave him a sour stomach. He took to moaning and groaning and carry’n on. So the Alien Doctor gave the farmer an atomic space enema, which really helped out. The farmer thanked them kindly.
Well, those Aliens must have thought that humans just love those enema’s, ’cause since-then, they give one to every human they meet.
It was at that time the aliens decided they had made such a good friend that they would come clean and tell the farmer the whole truth and nothin’ but the truth. As you may know from the previous column, the aliens told the farmer that they were Hollywood producers lookin’ for good farmland to make a movie. This confused the farmer, on account that movies hadn’t been invented yet. Well, they just decided they would come clean and tell the farmer they are respectable space travelers who just wanted a nice picnic in a nice field of grass.
“You don’t say…” the farmer said while wiping his brow with his forearm.
The alien replied, but the battery on the universal translator was running low and all the farmer heard was, “crackle, sizzle, zip…a dooooo-waaaaaah-diddy.”
Wanting to be polite, the farmer returned the greeting, “And a doooooo-waaaaaaaah-diddy to you too! Hey, I like the way that sounds, doooooo-waaaaaaaah-diddy, doooooo-waaaaaaaah-diddy diddy-dum-diddy-doooo!”
They decided it was time to go and gave the farmer a good firm handshake to confirm their new friendship and headed back to the ship.
The farmer just sat there and watched them get in their ship and take off into space. “A doooooo-waaaaaaaah-diddy diddy-dum-diddy-doooo.” he said to himself as they soared thru the sky.
After a few days of cigars and thinkin’ the farmer decided he should call the newspaper and tell him about his visit with the aliens. The headline read, “Local Stoner Thinks He Was Visited by Aliens!”
Well, the whole thing was taken as a joke.
Until a group of scientists show up and decide to comb the area for any traces of alien technology. And alien technology was exactly what they found there. Turns out that’s when they found the mysterious devices, we now call batteries. Since batteries hadn’t been invented yet, they were really excited about this new technology. All sorts of batteries were found from Triple A’s, to Triple X’s (the government haven’t figured out how XXX batteries work yet). Only no B batteries.
Fast forward fifty years and there’s a battery in every home around the globe.
Fast forward another fifty years and some government hot shot scientists decide they should go back to the original landing site to see if they could dig up any B batteries, which they concluded would be the best batteries, on account, they figured, “B” must stand for “best”.
Well, the FBI shows up with some science folks and they dug and looked for several months and came up empty handed. They didn’t find any traces of the ancient batteries, but what they did find made them turn white as a sheet. It was the wild wood flower tobacco farm that had been cared for, for several generations.
They dug and they burned, and they burned, and they dug, and killed all them nice little weeds. Then they drove off.
The locals just smiled and waved, sittin’ on those sack of seeds.
The FBI also interviewed people and found out about the alien movie story. Well knowing that movies hadn’t been invented back in the 1850’s they got a little suspicious. Then those FBI folks go about doin’ what FBI folks do, and make all sorts of studies and reports, and conclude that since the aliens referenced Hollywood, then Hollywood must somehow be linked to the missing B batteries.
They concluded B actors in Hollywood were actually aliens and they have all the B batteries. So, they get some guy named McCarthy to go out and throw B actors in jail so they can be questioned about the batteries. They told everyone that they were looking for communist actors, but what they really wanted were those batteries.
They never got ’em, and we’ve had to live without them ever since.
At least, according to local legend.
And now you know!
COMING NEXT: Chick Shit for Chic Chicks!
Song in my head: