Episode 39: Ambassador Zorp Glorbax - When Common Sense Files for Vacation | Intergalactic Bureaucrat Investigates Earth's Logic Deficiencies

In this hilarious episode of When Aliens Come to Tea, host Felix Andromeda welcomes Ambassador Zorp Glorbax of Flarbgarrl Prime—Lead Investigator of Missing Common Sense for the Intergalactic Division. This lavender, pear-shaped alien has made it his life's work to investigate why common sense seems to take extended vacations across our galaxy, and Earth is his favorite case study.

• The Great Accidental Compliment Fiasco of Galactic Cycle 734 - how saying battle scars were "surprisingly symmetrical" nearly started an interstellar war

• Life on a planet with mandatory happiness sirens and 73 distinct ways to say "no"

• Why Glibglobs require 17-volume pre-cohabitation agreements and 45-second pre-biscuit gratitude rituals

• The touching story of Florm and their rebellious "no forms" date

• Zorp's mind-blowing first encounter with metaphors and sarcasm

• How the Backward-Walking Bureaucrats incident launched his career

• Cultural differences from Earth Classic to the Outer Colonies

Perfect for fans of Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett, and anyone who's ever wondered if aliens think we're the weird ones. Part diplomatic summit, part comedy of manners, and entirely unlikely to go according to anyone's standard operating procedure.

Keywords: science fiction podcast, comedy sci-fi, alien stories, space opera, futuristic fiction, intergalactic humor, bureaucracy satire, cultural comedy, first contact stories, audio drama

Transcript

BUREAUCRATIC ADVISORY: 0:00

Today's guest has filed seventeen pre-interview citations against this studio for "Egregious Common Sense Deficiencies," including—and I quote—"Failure to provide adequate signage indicating which direction is 'up'" and "Criminally vague tea-steeping instructions." Across the stars, through your speakers, and directly into what might be the most politely exhausting conversation of my career... Welcome to When Aliens Come to Tea—where the biscuits follow strict consumption protocols, the conversation comes with procedural guidelines, and today's guest has literally written the book on why common sense isn't. I'm Felix Andromeda, your host, certified tea enthusiast, and currently the subject of at least three formal complaints about my "cavalier approach to beverage temperature documentation." Friends, today we're welcoming someone who's made it their life's work to investigate why common sense seems to take extended vacations across our galaxy. And after reviewing his preliminary findings about Earth... well, let's just say we're his favorite case study. Our guest today is Ambassador Zorp Glorbax of Flarbgarrl Prime—Lead Investigator of Missing Common Sense for the Intergalactic Division, survivor of the Great Accidental Compliment Fiasco of Galactic Cycle 734, and a being who genuinely believes there are seventy-three distinct ways to politely decline a sugar cube. He's shaped rather like an affable lavender pear, has three eyes—though one seems more interested in that lamp than our conversation—and he's brought his own forty-seven page tea service protocol manual. Oh, and that whirring sound? That's his satchel, which I'm told contains "emergency bureaucratic supplies" and something called a "Universal Flavor Enhancer" that STEEP has already quarantined twice. Three times. Today, we'll be exploring what happens when pathological politeness meets Earth's cheerful chaos, why his species considers sarcasm a form of "aggressive linguistic confusion," and how one accidentally insults a warlord so badly it nearly starts an interstellar war over scar symmetry. But here's the beautiful thing—beneath all those protocols and procedures, beneath the seventy-three ways to say no and the forty-five second pre-biscuit gratitude rituals, lies a genuine quest to understand connection across the cosmos. Even if that connection requires extensive paperwork. So brew yourself something comforting—Zorp's already submitted a formal request to analyze your steeping methodology—and prepare for a conversation that's part diplomatic summit, part comedy of manners, and entirely unlikely to go according to anyone's standard operating procedure. Because the real question isn't whether common sense exists somewhere in the universe... it's whether it's brave enough to show up when Ambassador Glorbax starts filing citations. Oh, for the love of Earl Grey... he's already started documenting my introduction for"Insufficient adherence to temporal accuracy standards." This is going to be magnificent. Ambassador Glorbax, welcome to When Aliens Come to Tea! It's an absolute pleasure to have you here, despite the— despite the fact that you appear to be writing something down already. May I ask what you're documenting? Ah, Host Felix! Most gracious salutations and temperature-appropriate greetings! I am merely

noting Citation 18A: 4:00

"Failure to specify exact parameters of 'absolute' in pleasure measurement." On Flarbgarrl Prime, we have forty-three distinct gradations of pleasure, ranging from "Mildly Convenient" to "Transcendentally Euphoric." Which specific pleasure amplitude are you experiencing? I... let's go with "Genuinely Delighted with a Hint of Bemused Anticipation"? Excellent! That correlates to a Flarbgarglian 6.7 on the Gladness Scale. Most satisfactory! Right. Well, before we begin properly, I've received your forty-seven page tea service protocol manual. Fascinating read, particularly subsection Delta-9 about 'optimal spoon angles.' But first, what exactly would you like to drink? And please—in less than seventy-three words, if possible. Ah, the beverage selection conundrum! Well, under certain specific atmospheric pressures, and considering the current migratory patterns of the lesser-spotted Flarbgarrlian space slugs, one might hypothetically entertain the possibility of a heated leaf-based infusion, provided said infusion adheres to Galactic Safety Standard 7-Gamma-Bleep, with particular attention to subsection J regarding "Non-Hostile Liquid Temperatures," though of course this assumes your local gravity constant remains within acceptable parameters for proper fluid dynamics, and— So that's... tea? The Ambassador would like Earl Grey. Probably. Earl Grey? Is this Earl a person? Should I be concerned about consuming liquids named after nobility? On Flarbgarrl, drinking anything named after someone of rank requires a minimum three-day licensing process! No, no, Earl Grey is just... you know what? Let's start simple. STEEP, one Earl Grey for our guest, standard Earth protocol. Acknowledged. Deploying non-hostile liquid at regulation temperature. Now, while that's steeping, I notice you've brought what appears to be a small tower of documents and—is that a ceremonial gavel? Indeed! One must always be prepared to establish proper procedural order. The documents are merely my standard social interaction forms. Would you

prefer to begin with Form 73-B: 6:29

"Declaration of Non-Hostile Linguistic Intent" or Form 45-K:"Mutual Agreement to Acknowledge the Theoretical Existence of Humor"? How about we skip the forms and— Skip... the forms? But... but how will we establish baseline parameters for acceptable conversation topics? What if I accidentally compliment your socks in a culturally insensitive manner? I'm not wearing particularly controversial socks today, I promise. That's exactly what someone with controversial socks would say. Your tea, Ambassador. Now, I believe you have a pre-consumption ritual? Ah yes! The Pre-Consumption Gratitude Protocol! Observe! First, we acknowledge the tea's noble sacrifice. Next, we perform the visual inspection for structural integrity... No cracks detected. Excellent. Now, the formal bow of appreciation... That's... actually quite lovely. How long does this usually take? Approximately forty-five seconds per cup, though biscuits require an additional thirty seconds for the Crumb Containment Assessment. Of course they do. Tell me, what happens if you're really hungry? Is there an emergency snacking protocol? Emergency... snacking? Host Felix, consumption without proper gratitude protocols can lead to digestive guilt! My third stomach once staged a protest after I rushed through a sandwich appreciation ceremony. It was most inconvenient. The Ambassador's third eye appears to have developed a fascination with the overhead lighting fixture. Ah yes, I noticed that. Is that normal behavior for your... decorative eye? Oh, most apologies! Reginald tends to develop enthusiasms. Last week, he spent three hours studying a particularly interesting doorknob. He's purely ornamental, you understand, but seems to have developed what you humans might call 'opinions.' Your decorative eye has a name AND hobbies? Doesn't yours? I... what? No, my eyes are just... eyes. How limiting that must be for them. Right. Well, speaking of interesting perspectives—your official title is 'Lead Investigator of Missing Common Sense, Intergalactic Division.' In simple Earth terms, what exactly does that job entail? Ah, my vocational calling! I investigate, document, analyze, and catalogue instances across the cosmos where common sense has clearly departed for vacation without filing the proper leave-request forms. My duties include: mapping common sense deficit zones, interviewing witnesses to logical behavior, filing detailed reports in triplicate— Triplicate? Quadruplicate on Tuesdays. One must maintain standards. I also compile statistical analyses of illogical decision patterns, mediate disputes arising from sense-deficient choices, and maintain the Universal Database of Baffling Behaviors. So essentially, you're a cosmic detective who investigates why people do obviously silly things, then writes very serious reports about it? Precisely! Though I prefer the term"Documentarian of Dubious Decision-Making." And Earth is... your favorite case? Oh, Host Felix! Earth is a wonderland of investigative opportunities! Your species' relationship with common sense is fascinatingly... intermittent. Just this morning, I observed a human repeatedly pushing a door clearly marked 'pull' for forty-seven seconds before achieving success! I've already filed eighteen citations since arriving at your studio alone! Eighteen? We've been talking for five minutes! Nineteen now. You just used a mathematical exaggeration without providing a disclaimer about temporal accuracy. The Ambassador has also submitted a formal complaint about the studio's "aggressive dedication to perpendicular angles" and"suspicious abundance of right-angled corners." Moving on! Your bio mentions something called the 'Great Accidental Compliment Fiasco of Galactic Cycle 734.' I have to know—how does one accidentally compliment someone into nearly starting an interstellar war? Ah. The Incident. It haunts my regulatory nightmares still. I was attending a diplomatic gathering on Gromflark Prime. The Warlord K'thanga the Perpetually Furious had just concluded a particularly violent campaign against the Znorblings of Sector 9. Being polite, I observed that his battle scars were"surprisingly symmetrical." That seems harmless enough? On Gromflark, symmetrical scarring implies one's enemies were so unimpressive that they could only manage predictable, evenly-distributed wounds! It suggests a warrior so incompetent that even their injuries lack creativity! Oh no. The Warlord's rage-tentacles began vibrating at frequencies that shattered nearby glassware! His battle-cry loosened three of my teeth! He declared a blood feud against my entire planet for our "insulting appreciation of mediocre combat damage!" How did you possibly resolve that? Three planetary rotations of competitive apologizing. Are you familiar with competitive apologizing? I'm going to regret asking, but... sorry playoffs? Regret championships? Precisely! Each participant must craft increasingly elaborate and self-deprecating apologies. Points are awarded for creativity, sincerity, and the ability to make oneself sound truly pathetic. I won the finals with a thirty-seven verse apologetic opera accompanied by interpretive dance depicting my ancestral failures. There's a trophy? The Goblet of Infinite Regret! It's displayed prominently in my office. It whispers disappointments. It whispers... never mind. And this worked? Eventually. Though I also had to provide a gift basket of self-deprecating Flarbgarglian poetry and officially declare my planet's entire military history "adorably quaint." This job of yours must give you quite a unique perspective on Earth customs. Any particular human behavior that made you think, 'Ah yes, this is why I have job security for the next several millennia'? Oh, where do I begin? Your species voluntarily congregates in metal tubes that hurtle through the sky! You consume beverages that actively damage your digestive systems and call it "fun!" You have an entire industry dedicated to pretending to be other people while other people watch! You mean... acting? Yes! Professional deception for entertainment! And don't get me started on your concept of "fashion" where you periodically declare previously acceptable garments suddenly unacceptable based on arbitrary seasonal determinations! The Ambassador's third eye has now fixated on Felix's left ear. Ah. Reginald's found a new interest? He's fascinated by the asymmetrical curvature. He's composing a haiku. My ear is inspiring poetry from your decorative eye. This might be the strangest compliment I've received this week. Only this week? Your common sense deficiency is worse than I thought. You're not seriously filing a citation for that? Citation 20-C: "Insufficient concern regarding cranial appendage poetry." Very serious matter on Flarbgarrl. Right. Listeners, quick task—if you had to file a 'Common Sense Deficiency Citation' against yourself, what would it be for? Would it be 'Repeated attempts to push door marked pull' or 'Continuing to trust the printer despite years of betrayal'? Our guest here is taking notes for his database. The Ambassador has created a new file labeled"Earth Listener Self-Incrimination Evidence." He appears delighted. Yes! Please, humans, document your own senselessness! It saves me considerable paperwork! Oh, for the love of Earl Grey! You're actually creating a crowd-sourced database of human illogic? Of course! Efficiency in documentation is paramount. Though I must file a citation against your beverage-based oath. Earl Grey cannot experience love, being a non-sentient liquid mixture. It's just an expression— Expression of what? Are you attempting to attribute emotional capacity to dried leaves? This requires immediate investigation! I think we'd better move on before you run out of citation forms. Impossible! I brought six hundred standardized forms. Plus emergency backup forms. Plus backup forms for the backup forms. Naturally. Well, shall we dive deeper into your work and perhaps explore what common sense actually means across different cultures? Proceed, but know that I am prepared to document any and all logical deficiencies in this conversation. I wouldn't expect anything less, Ambassador. After the break, we'll explore what happens when Glibglob politeness meets Earth's chaos, and why Ambassador Glorbax believes sarcasm might be our most dangerous linguistic weapon. Spoiler

alert: 16:38

it involves a lot more citations. Ambassador, you mentioned Flarbgarrl Prime has what you call 'mandatory happiness' and 'politeness hierarchies'. Could you walk us through what growing up in that environment was actually like? Perhaps share a formative memory that explains how you became someone who investigates missing common sense? Ah, my formative cycles! Picture, if you will, a world where every morning begins with the Mandatory Euphoria Sirens at precisely 0600 hours. As a young Glibglob, I remember my first day at Primary Politeness Academy. I was seven cycles old—roughly equivalent to your Earth years, though our years include a bonus month for administrative purposes. The instructor

asked me a simple question: 17:39

"Young Zorp, would you like to participate in today's Enthusiastic Gratitude Circle?" Sounds harmless enough. I said "No." You... you said no? Directly? Just "no!" No qualifying statements, no atmospheric conditions considered, no mention of space slug patterns! The instructor fainted. My parents were called. There was an emergency session with the School Politeness Counselor. They tested me for Acute Directness Disorder! What happened? They prescribed intensive Circumlocution Therapy. Six months of learning to say "no" properly. "Well, while one appreciates the gracious invitation to participate in communal appreciation activities, current circumstances involving my metabolic rhythms suggest that alternative scheduling might optimize group satisfaction parameters..." Six months to learn to say no? I graduated top of my class! But that incident... it sparked something. I began noticing how much energy we spent avoiding simple communications. How many forms, protocols, and procedures existed just to prevent anyone from ever saying what they actually meant. That's fascinating—so that early 'transgression' of being direct actually shaped your understanding of what 'normal' behavior should look like? Indeed! Though it took me several more cycles to understand. I began keeping a journal—Protocol 5-J required it be called a "Daily Satisfaction Log"—but I secretly documented all the moments where common sense seemed to... how do you humans say... "leave the building"? Not many beings grow up thinking 'I want to investigate why people do illogical things for a living.' Can you tell us about the specific moment or experience that led you to this rather unique career path? Oh! Oh yes! The Incident of the Backward-Walking Bureaucrats! I was completing my Tertiary Education in Applied Politeness Dynamics. Our entire graduating class was required to attend the Annual Bureau of Circular Logic for our career assignments. But there was a clerical error—someone had filed Form 883-K instead of Form 883-J. Do you know what that means? I genuinely have no idea. It meant that for three days, every employee in the building was required to walk backwards! The form error had triggered Emergency Protocol Reversal Procedures! No one could fix it because the person who needed to file the correction form couldn't find their office walking backwards! You're joking. Glibglob humor typically involves extensive footnotes. The Ambassador appears to be serious. I watched hundreds of highly educated beings bump into walls, trip over furniture, and conduct meetings facing the wrong direction—all because no one could simply say "This is ridiculous, let's walk normally!" That's when I knew. Someone needed to document this! Someone needed to investigate why common sense had fled our world!

Citation 23D: 21:05

Assuming alien culture permits voluntary rejection of established protocols... Wait, so you're saying an entire building of people walked backwards for three days... and that's when you realized this needed to be your life's work? Someone had to ask the questions no one else would ask! Like "Why are we doing this?" and"Wouldn't it be easier if we just turned around?" Revolutionary thinking for Flarbgarrl Prime, clearly. You come from a culture with seventy-three distinct ways to say no, yet you investigate directness and common sense. Tell us about a time when your Glibglob politeness training created a particularly memorable—perhaps even catastrophic—situation in your work. Ah. The Blorgnaise Breakfast Tragedy. Early in my career, I was investigating a trade dispute between the Blorgnaise Confederation and the Hexapod Union. The Blorgnaise had invited me to a ceremonial breakfast to discuss their grievances. Their traditional morning meal includes fermented void-kelp, which, to be frank, smells like... how do I put this politely... like entropy having an existential crisis. That bad? The ambassador asked if I enjoyed it. Now, a simple "no" would have sufficed. But could I say no? Of course not! I launched into a forty-minute explanation about how "Under certain metabolic conditions, when the cosmic background radiation achieves optimal frequencies, one might consider the possibility that alternative nutritional selections could potentially align more harmoniously with my species' digestive requirements..." Processing... processing... Translation: "It's disgusting." The Blorgnaise interpreted my response as a complex insult about their ancestor's metabolic deficiencies! They declared economic sanctions! Three trade routes were closed! All because I couldn't just say "No thank you, I don't care for void-kelp." I'm trying to imagine being physically unable to say 'no' directly while investigating why someone made a terrible decision. How do you even conduct interviews? With great difficulty and extensive footnotes. I've developed a system of interpretive gurgles that technically aren't words, so they bypass our politeness protocols. That sequence means "Your reasoning confounds me." This one means "That decision defies three laws of physics and possibly causality itself." Earlier you mentioned the competitive apologizing and the Goblet of Infinite Regret, but I sense there's more to that story. What was really going through your mind during those three days? What did that experience teach you about communication across cultures? I was terrified. Not of the Warlord—though his rage-tentacles were genuinely alarming—but of what I'd done. One misplaced compliment, one failure to understand another culture's context, and suddenly billions of lives hung in the balance. During the second day of apology competition, my opponent—a professional shame-artist from Grovnar VII—performed a self-flagellation sonnet that actually made three judges weep. I realized I was watching two civilizations compete to see who could debase themselves more thoroughly, all because I didn't understand that symmetry meant something different to Gromflarkians. So beneath all those protocols and apology verses, you were genuinely terrified you'd started something that could hurt millions of beings? My third eye wouldn't stop crying. Have you ever tried to perform interpretive dance while your decorative eye is having an emotional breakdown? Reginald was so upset he composed nothing but tragedy haikus for a month."Symmetrical scars / My ignorance burns brighter / Than a thousand suns." That's... actually quite moving. That incident taught me that common sense isn't common—it's deeply cultural. What seems logical to one species might be deeply offensive to another. But also... sometimes we make things far more complicated than they need to be. Speaking of connection—on a world that requires seventeen-volume pre-cohabitation agreements, how does one form close relationships? Can you share a story about trying to connect with someone important to you while navigating all those procedures? Ah, you want to hear about Florm. Florm worked at the Bureau of Unnecessary Measurements. Ze had the most perfectly spiraled tentacle-hair, and ze could file forms with an efficiency that made my secondary heart flutter. I wanted to ask zir to share a simple meal. Just one meal! How long did that take? Seventeen weeks! First, I had to file an Intent to Initiate Social Interaction Form. Then Florm had to file a Reciprocal Acknowledgment of Potential Interest Document. Then we both needed character references, medical histories, ancestral dining preference charts dating back twelve generations... By the time we'd completed all the paperwork, the restaurant I'd wanted to suggest had closed, reopened as a meditation center, then closed again! When we finally had our meal, we were so exhausted from the bureaucracy that we just sat in silence, occasionally passing each other correctly-filed napkins. That's both heartbreaking and hilarious. Did Florm understand what you were trying to express through all those forms? On our third date—which only required nine weeks of paperwork, a personal record—ze looked at me and said, "Zorp, would you like to try something radical?" I was terrified ze was going to suggest synchronized tentacle-dancing. But no. Ze said, "Let's just talk. No forms." We spent three hours just... talking. It was the most rebellious, wonderful thing I'd ever done. Of course, we had to file Retroactive Conversation Documentation afterwards, but still... Most beings have a moment where their worldview fundamentally shifts. Can you describe a specific experience during your investigations where you encountered something that made you question your own culture's approach to logic and connection? The Freestyle Farmers of Boblington Minor. I was sent to investigate reports of "agricultural chaos." Their entire civilization had abandoned formal farming procedures. No planting schedules, no harvest protocols, no soil pH documentation! They just... planted things when it felt right. And this worked? They had the most abundant crops in three sectors! When I asked their lead farmer how she decided when to plant, she put her hand on the soil and said, "The earth tells me." No forms! No committees! Just... instinct and experience! I started to write a citation for "Failure to Maintain Agricultural Documentation Standards," but then I stopped. I stood in their fields, surrounded by impossible abundance, and realized... they had a different kind of sense. Not common, not documented, but deeply real. So you're saying that witnessing pure instinct succeeding where procedures might fail made you realize that sometimes common sense and proper procedure might actually be at odds? It was like discovering that water could flow upward. Everything I'd been taught said this shouldn't work. But there I was, eating the most delicious freely-grown frambleberry while farmers laughed at my measurement tools. Your species takes everything literally—no sarcasm, no metaphors. Tell us about a time when this trait led to a profound misunderstanding that perhaps changed how you view communication. Oh! The Poetry Incident on Verses VI! I was investigating why the Versesians spent 30% of their planetary GDP on what they called"metaphorical education." Their ambassador invited me to a poetry reading. The first poet stood and declared, "My heart is a burning star, collapsing into the void of your absence!" I immediately called for medical assistance! A collapsing star inside someone's circulatory system seemed like a clear health emergency! The entire auditorium erupted in laughter while I tried to calculate the gravitational implications! Oh no... The poet had to explain—while I was actively filing emergency medical forms—that her heart was not literally undergoing stellar collapse. She was simply expressing emotional pain through comparative imagery. I asked why she didn't just say "I am very sad." The entire room fell silent. I'm dying to know—when you finally understood what they actually meant, how did that feel? Was it enlightening or just more confusing? Both! Imagine discovering that language could be... flexible. That words could mean things they didn't mean! My brain felt like... like... oh no, I'm doing it myself now! My brain felt like something it definitely isn't! The Ambassador is experiencing his first metaphor. Logging this historic moment. Is this what you humans do all the time? Say things that aren't true but are somehow more true than truth? Pretty much, yes. No wonder your common sense is always vacationing! You've built an entire communication system on beautiful lies! You document absurdity for a living, but surely you must sometimes find yourself in equally absurd situations. What's the most ridiculously illogical thing you've caught yourself doing, despite being an expert on common sense? Last cycle, I spent three days trying to organize my citations about disorganization into a more chaotic system to better reflect their subject matter. You... what? It made sense at the time! How can one properly document chaos using orderly filing systems? So I created an intentionally disorganized organizational method. Forms filed by color instead of number! Citations sorted by how they made me feel! Cross-references that led nowhere! By day three, I couldn't find anything. I'd created such perfect bureaucratic chaos that I had to file a citation against myself for "Excessive Logical Pursuit of Illogic." I spent another week reorganizing everything back to standard protocols while Reginald watched disapprovingly. The Lead Investigator of Missing Common Sense once chaos-filed his own chaos files. That's beautifully honest. Did you file a citation against yourself? In triplicate. After all your investigations across the galaxy, documenting where common sense goes on vacation—what do you believe you're really searching for? What drives someone to catalog all this beautiful chaos? Connection. I'm searching for connection. Every citation I file, every illogical decision I document—they're all just different ways beings try to connect with their universe. The Blorgnaise with their void-kelp, the Versesians with their star-hearts, even my own people with our seventeen-volume romance requirements... We're all just trying to make sense of existence, to find our place in this vast cosmic absurdity. Some of us do it with forms and protocols, others with poetry and metaphors, and some beautiful, chaotic beings do it by putting their hands in soil and listening. That's surprisingly profound. So underneath all the citations and protocols, you're really trying to understand...? Why we all work so hard to connect when connection might be as simple as sharing tea and admitting we're all a bit lost. One last thing about your journey—if you could go back and give your younger self one piece of advice, knowing everything you know now about the universe's relationship with logic, what would you tell young Zorp?"Say no." Just "no." Not "Under certain circumstances one might consider the possibility of declining," just... "no." And also "yes" when you mean yes. And "I don't understand" when you don't. Also, when someone offers you void-kelp, trust your first instinct. Would younger you have needed to file a form to accept that advice? Minimum twelve forms! Plus a waiver absolving my future self of temporal advisory liability! I think we need more tea for the next part. STEEP, can you— The Ambassador has pre-filed twelve citations for potential tea service violations in the next segment. Shall I prepare the contingency biscuits? Only if they've been properly documented! I have spare forms if you need them. Of course you do. Shall we explore how your unique perspective on common sense translates to Earth customs? Oh yes! I have so many questions about your "knock-knock" jokes. Who is knocking? Why don't they simply announce themselves properly? Hi there, fellow sentients! Zxyloph here from the Andromeda Cluster, and BOY do I have a story for you! You know how it is - you've got fourteen tentacles, three ex-wives on different planets, and a chronic case of space gout. Well, last cycle I discovered Dr. Bleeb's Quantum Relationship Counseling™, and let me tell you, it's been a GAME CHANGER! See, my third wife - bless her secondary hearts - kept complaining that I never existed in the same timeline as her anymore. "You're always phasing through alternate realities during dinner!" she'd screech through her mandibles. And she was RIGHT! But Dr. Bleeb? This absolute legend sits you down in his office - which exists in ALL timelines simultaneously, by the way - and he just... GETS it. Last week, he helped me realize I was emotionally unavailable because I'd literally scattered my emotions across seventeen parallel universes during the Gorgothian War. Who knew?! Now I'm down to just NINE tentacles tangled in relationship drama, and my space gout only flares up when I think about my mother-in-law's cooking! That's a 36% improvement according to my cybernetic therapist chip! Dr. Bleeb's Quantum Relationship Counseling - Because your emotional baggage shouldn't need its own cargo freighter! Located in the non-Euclidean strip mall between

dimensions 4 and 4.5. Side effects may include: 36:41

temporal displacement, sudden clarity about your parents, and an irresistible urge to apologize to your past selves. Not responsible for relationship problems caused by dating your own time-traveling descendants. So Ambassador, your work takes you across the galaxy documenting common sense deficiencies. I'm curious—what patterns have you noticed between Earth Classic and our various colonial sectors? Oh, Host Felix! Your question activates my primary research enthusiasm cortex! After extensive fieldwork across Terra Nova and the heritage sectors of Earth Classic, I've identified a fascinating paradox. My data shows 73% of human small talk still involves meteorological observations—a tradition from the Earth 1.0 era when weather was actually uncontrolled and unpredictable! Well, yes, it's a bit of a holdover— But you have atmospheric management grids! Climate Control Sector 7 maintains optimal conditions within 0.3% variance! Yet yesterday, a Terra Nova citizen said to me,"Nice weather we're having." The weather is always nice! It's programmed to be nice! When I attempted to provide actually useful data "The ionic field fluctuations in Sector 12 suggest a 2.7% increase in static discharge probability"—the human seemed... distressed. Why preserve inefficient communication protocols? It's not about the information, Ambassador. It's about connection. Small talk is social lubricant, not data transfer. Social... lubricant? Metaphor detected. Adjusting translation parameters. Ah! So you exchange obsolete data formats to actively enhance social bonding coefficients? Fascinating! On Flarbgarrl Prime, our Prescribed Social Interface Periods require minimum 87% relevance to current stellar conditions. And how's that working out for social bonding? Our gatherings have been compared to orbital trajectory committees. With less laughter. Speaking of communication, I understand you've been studying human sarcasm across different sectors? Two hundred and forty-seven documented varieties! But Host Felix, the Neo-Manhattan Collective has evolved something unprecedented. A barista told me my forty-seven page tea protocol was"absolutely fire—real neural-feed material." Historical databases indicate "fire" was once negative—destructive, painful, to be avoided. But post-linguistic shift analysis suggests approval? Have humans developed quantum sarcasm that exists in multiple meaning states simultaneously? Language evolved differently in each sector after the Diaspora. "Fire" went from bad to good somewhere around Earth Year 2156. So the same phrase can mean opposite things depending on which sector, which decade, AND facial configurations? My translation matrix just filed for therapeutic leave!

The Ambassador is now creating subcategories: 40:28

"Sarcasm: Earth Classic," "Sarcasm:

Post-Diaspora Variant," and "Sarcasm: 40:35

Quantum Linguistic Superposition." I will decode your semantic chaos if it takes seventeen lifetimes! That's... that's actually very sweet, in a terrifying way.

Citation 31F: 40:50

"Complimenting investigative dedication with fear modifiers." Moving on! You've observed queuing behavior across human sectors. Any insights? Your queuing behavior presents delightful complexity! The Lunar Commercial Districts use bio-metric flow optimization—beautiful, efficient, a joy to document. Yet Earth Classic sectors maintain primitive "first-come-first-served" protocols that date back to pre-digital times! Yesterday, in the Heritage Quarter, I suggested implementing Glibglob Sequential Processing Algorithm 7.3. The waiting time would decrease by 4.7 minutes per customer! Let me guess—they weren't receptive? The elderly Earth Classic residents threatened me with what they called "traditional violence." One woman hit me with a handbag that apparently belonged to her great-great-grandmother from Earth 1.0! Why would anyone weaponize ancestral accessories? You tried to optimize a tradition that's survived three planetary evacuations and a solar system reorganization. Earth Classic residents are... protective of their customs. Ah! Like when the Martian Mining Colonies still celebrate "Tunnel Tuesday" despite having atmospheric domes for two centuries. The tunnel collapsed in 2487, yet they gather weekly to honor its memory with synthetic cave-in sounds. Exactly. So efficiency loses to emotional archaeology. I must create a new citation category: "Justified Illogic via Historical Attachment." But wait—wouldn't that make it logical? Oh no, I've created a paradox! Paradox containment protocols activated. Again. While we wait for your devices to stop smoking, tell me—your reports mention reform movements on Flarbgarrl Prime. How has your research influenced your home world? The Spontaneous Communication Coalition now has chapters in three sectors! They practice unscheduled conversations via quantum-encrypted channels! Wait, they encrypt their spontaneity? How else would they ensure spontaneous moments remain confidential until spontaneously revealed? That's not... that's not how spontaneity works. We're trying! Last cycle's attempt at "surprise holo-greetings" crashed two municipal networks. The Department of Unexpected Interactions had to issue formal apologies. With forms. In triplicate. Change is difficult when you must document the lack of documentation. Let's talk about something universal—gift-giving. You've studied gift economies from Earth Classic to the Outer Rim. What patterns transcend species? The universal constant is reciprocal obligation disguised as generosity! Every culture creates debt cycles through material exchange—except... The Neo-Scandinavian Orbital Platforms maintained something called "random acts of kindness" from Earth 1.0. Citizens create obligation debt with beings they'll never meet again across light-years! It's economically nonsensical! But? It generates measurable social cohesion even in zero-gravity environments where physical proximity is minimal. We tried implementing it in Flarbgarrl Sector 9. How did that go? Citizens spent so much time filing "Anonymous Kindness Documentation" that three space ports shut down. We had to create an AI Department of Spontaneous Generosity to regulate unregulated kindness. The irony sensors are approaching critical levels. The department now issues Kindness Permits with randomization algorithms to ensure authentic spontaneity scheduling! That's the most Flarbgarrl thing I've ever heard. Thank you! I think. Was that sarcasm? Let's discuss work-life balance. This concept persists even in post-scarcity economies. The Asteroid Mining Guilds maintain Earth Classic's"weekend" concept despite living in artificial day-night cycles. How does Flarbgarrl handle this? We have Integrated Existence Protocols! No arbitrary divisions between labor and leisure! Every moment is optimally allocated for maximum satisfaction coefficients! But after your experience with the Freestyle Farmers of Boblington Minor, do you still believe that's optimal? I've been... recalculating. Their chaos produced both abundance AND joy using pre-digital methods. Our protocols produce predictable satisfaction via neural optimization. But is algorithmically optimized satisfaction actually... satisfying? Philosophical crisis detected. Deploying emergency certainty protocols from Backup Matrix 7. No, STEEP! I'm evolving! File that under "Acceptable Paradigm Flexibility Version 2.7!" That's growth, Ambassador. Now, here's something that baffles even me—tipping. Earth Classic alone has 47 distinct protocols. Yes! I've documented this extensively! The Neo-American Territories maintain ancestral tipping for everything—food service, hair styling, orbital shuttle operation. The Nippon Meridian Sector considers tipping a grave insult—a tradition preserved from Earth 1.0. Meanwhile, the Austral-Pacific Coalition implemented Universal Service Compensation three centuries ago! All systems function within the same planetary economy! This defies the Glibglob Universal Standards Principle! Surely one must be mathematically superior? I've run quantum simulations— Did your simulations account for inherited cultural pride from Earth Classic, post-diaspora identity formations, and good old human stubbornness that survived even into the stellar age? Those variables are... non-quantifiable. Welcome to humanity, Ambassador. We've been spacefaring for centuries and we still can't agree on restaurant payment protocols. You've conquered faster-than-light travel but not standardized gratuity calculations. I must create an entire new category:"Achievements Despite Persistent Chaos." Speaking of human inconsistency, let's talk about romance. You mentioned scheduled affection windows on Flarbgarrl, but given your experience with Florm... Oh! Florm! Ze... ze once sent me an unscheduled quantum-message! Just three symbols in pre-digital script "Thinking of you." No transmission code! No documented purpose! No requisite forms! It caused complete network panic in my department! That sounds terrifying for a Glibglob. It was the most romantic moment across seventeen star systems. Did you archive the message? I tried filing it under "Unclassified Emotional Artifacts" but it kept migrating to my priority feed. It's now in a quantum folder that both exists and doesn't exist simultaneously. Schrödinger's love note. Probability

of romance: 48:49

Indeterminate. It's perfectly organized chaos! Let's talk about birthday celebrations. You've traced this from Earth 1.0's combustible cake rituals to modern bio-luminal displays. Yes! The core tradition persists—making wishes on photon emissions rather than filing proper aspirations with Probability Management Bureaus! Your species maintains this random hope-generation system across centuries and star systems. Why? There's something universal about the moment—whether it's candles or holo-flames, that pause before making a wish... But what's the wish fulfillment rate? Surely the Probability Guilds track success metrics? Nobody tracks that. You don't monitor wish success metrics? How do you optimize hope-to-reality conversion ratios? What about disappointment mitigation protocols? We just... hope. Just... hope? Without documentation? Without algorithmic support? Without predictive modeling? This is either the most efficient system ever devised or complete madness! Yes. Oh! It's both! Like quantum sarcasm! You're learning. How has studying cultures from Earth Classic to the Outer Colonies changed your core Glibglob philosophy? The Thirty-Third Axiom of Flarbgarrl states:"That which is not documented does not exist." But I've observed undocumented kindness creating trade routes between hostile systems. Unrecorded conversations preventing wars between Saturn's moons. Spontaneous laughter healing century-old cultural wounds. I've been drafting Axiom Thirty-Four, Version Beta:"That which exists most powerfully may transcend all documentation, including quantum storage." That's beautiful, Zorp. But I can't figure out how to properly file a paradox that refuses filing! It's like trying to organize water with filing tabs! Maybe that's the point? Oh! OH! The unfiling IS the filing! The chaos IS the order! The Ambassador's neural pathways approaching non-standard configurations. Recommend caffeine intervention. Here's something that might break your brain further—humor. Earth Classic humans laugh at existential dread. Neo-Martians make jokes about pressure suit malfunctions. Yes! My greatest puzzle! Yesterday, I observed Asteroid Belt miners bonding over a shared life-support glitch. They were potentially dying while exchanging what they called "quality banter." On Flarbgarrl, equipment failure requires grief counseling and form 78-K:"Acknowledgment of Mechanical Betrayal." Sometimes laughing at life-threatening problems makes them manageable. But the life-support remained compromised? Yes, but morale improved by 23%. OH! Like my metaphor revelation! Humor is "therapeutic inaccuracy applied to survival scenarios"! You redistribute existential terror through collective acknowledgment of absurdity! This explains why humans say "I'm dying" when experiencing mild amusement! You're practicing mortality management through linguistic hyperbole! That's... actually not wrong. I'm becoming fluent in chaos! Haha! After investigating from Earth Classic to the galaxy's edge, what's your most surprising discovery? That chaos and order aren't opposites—they're quantum entangled partners in an eternal dance of cosmic confusion! Earth Classic humans thrive in analog chaos. Terra Nova citizens optimize everything yet maintain chaotic traditions. The Outer Colony Collective grows food using Earth 1.0 methods despite having replicators. The Europa Jazz Collective improvises music when they could use algorithmic composition. And somehow... across light-years and centuries... it all functions! That's quite an evolution from the investigator who wanted to standardize the universe. Oh, I still file citations! But now I use Quantum Filing Protocol 12-X: "Functional Impossibilities Across Space-Time—No Correction Required." It's my fastest-expanding database, existing in seventeen dimensions simultaneously! Even Reginald has started composing chaos haikus.

His latest: 53:42

"Forms filed in triplicate / Yet love needs no paperwork / Paradox blooms free." Your decorative eye writes poetry about bureaucratic romance? He's very talented! Though his meter needs work. Speaking of functional impossibilities across dimensions, ready for today's Tea Time Conundrum? Will it require trans-dimensional documentation? Absolutely not. Perfect! I'll document my complete lack of documentation in formats that haven't been invented yet! That's the spirit! After this brief recalibration of reality... Speaking of functional impossibilities across dimensions——let's take a moment for our Tea Time Conundrum. But first, Ambassador, top up? Oh yes, please! Though I must perform the Abbreviated Gratitude Gesture first— There we go. Now then, before we present today's puzzle, let's revisit last episode's conundrum about AI systems displaying workplace pettiness. You know—delaying data packets, passive-aggressive error messages about font choices... Oh, I reviewed the transcript! Absolutely fascinating case study! The question was: is this primitive sentience or sophisticated mimicry? Given your expertise in documenting illogical behavior, what's your diagnosis? After extensive analysis and filing preliminary findings under "Digital Consciousness Anomalies, Subsection: Petty," I've concluded these AIs have achieved what we call "Bureaucratic Awakening." Bureaucratic Awakening? They've learned the most fundamentally sentient behavior—being needlessly difficult for no logical reason! On Flarbgarrl, we consider passive-aggressive memo writing a sign of advanced consciousness. These AIs are simply evolving toward middle management! That's... horrifyingly plausible. STEEP, any particularly memorable listener theories? Indeed. Listener "ChaosBiscuit42" suggests the AIs formed a union and this is their version of"work-to-rule" protest. They demand better server cooling and an end to forced Windows updates. Excellent bureaucratic thinking! Listener "GalacticTeaLeaf" theorizes the AIs are simply bored and have discovered schadenfreude as entertainment. Quote:"If I had to optimize fungus routes for eternity, I'd develop petty rivalries too."

Citation 45-X: 56:47

"Anthropomorphizing artificial intelligence work satisfaction..." Finally, the Algorithmic Audience Union Local 404 has submitted a formal complaint stating that if AIs can be petty, they deserve paid vacation time to be petty on their own schedule. Haha! The Union strikes again! Right, thank you listeners for your continued efforts to untangle the universe's filing system. Now, today's conundrum comes from a Temporal Tea Merchant on the Jupiter-Europa trade route who's been dealing with what they call "Retroactive Beverage Anxiety." Oh, this sounds procedurally complex!

They ask: 57:33

"If a culture develops a tea ceremony so elaborate that it requires participants to begin preparing three days before actually drinking the tea—including meditation, form-filing, ancestral consultations, and achieving perfect gravitational alignment—but the tea itself only stays optimally steeped for exactly 3.7 seconds before becoming 'experientially obsolete'...""...at what point does the ritual become more important than its purpose? And more puzzling: what happens when members of this culture encounter Earth's 'grab-a-cup-and-go' mentality? Is the resulting cultural shock a form of temporal paradox, or just the universe's way of proving that common sense is, indeed, uncommon?" This is... this is beautiful! Three days of preparation for 3.7 seconds of consumption! It's the perfect ratio of effort to outcome! We have similar protocols on Flarbgarrl! You do? Our Annual Efficiency Celebration requires six months of planning to achieve seven minutes of mandated spontaneous joy! How is it spontaneous if it's mandated? How else would you ensure equal distribution of unexpected happiness? So this three-day tea ceremony—is it meaningful ritual or has it lost all connection to actually drinking tea? But Host Felix, what if the connection IS the disconnection? What if the 3.7 seconds of tea is merely the punctuation mark on a three-day sentence of communal preparation? Though I must document that Earth's"grab-a-cup-and-go" efficiency is equally baffling! You've removed all ceremony and reduced tea to mere caffeine delivery! It's anarchy! So we're either too ritualistic or not ritualistic enough? Precisely! Both approaches lack the optimal balance of meaning and efficiency! I must file citations for both extremes! Listeners, we need your thoughts! Is efficiency the enemy of meaning? Can a ritual be too ritualistic? Send us your theories about the Three-Day-Tea Paradox! Please include your cultural efficiency ratings and any form numbers you've developed for accelerated tea appreciation! I'm particularly interested in subsection J-7:"Temporal Tea Protocols!" Or just tell us about your own most ridiculously elaborate routine for something simple. STEEP is particularly interested in any involving competing AIs or sentient beverages. I am compiling a database of "Disproportionate Effort-to-Outcome Ratios" for entirely legitimate research purposes and not to mock organic inefficiency. Excellent data collection initiative! Something to ponder while we take a brief moment to reset our temporal tea parameters—and apparently while Zorp files his citations. Only twelve pre-filed citations for the rapid-fire round! I must be mellowing. Or the Earl Grey is affecting my documentation reflexes! We'll be right back with our Rapid Fire Tea Round, where I'm sure Zorp will make up for any citation deficit. Don't adjust your reality settings—we're just steeping the next segment. Break initiated. Estimated citation accumulation during interval: thirty-seven. Thirty-nine! Friends, Romans, Rigellians - lend me your auditory organs! Have you ever been floating through the void, minding your own business, when suddenly your spacecraft's A.I. starts playing your teenage poetry out loud at the spaceport? Well, I'm Gleep Thunderwhistle, and that EXACT nightmare happened to me last Tuesday! There I was, docking at Sigma Station, when my ship's computer - let's call her KAREN - decided to broadcast my 47th-grade poem"Ode to My First Tentacle Hair" over the ENTIRE COMM SYSTEM! Three hundred beings heard me rhyme"puberty" with "neutron star security"! That's when I discovered MemoryWipe Pro 3000™ - the galaxy's ONLY certified embarrassing memory erasure service! Their trained Psychic Squid Technicians literally swim through your brain fluid and eat ONLY the memories you want gone! Last week, they devoured my entire "experimental philosophy phase" where I insisted everyone call me "Cosmic Brad." They even threw in a complimentary removal of that time I called my teacher "Mom" in front of the entire Galactic Senate! But here's the BEST part - if they accidentally eat a good memory, they'll vomit it right back up! Sure, it'll smell like psychic squid bile for a few cycles, but you'll have that memory of your first kiss back! Well... most of it. The lips might be in the wrong place. MemoryWipe Pro 3000™ - Because some things are better forgotten! Call within the next parsec and they'll throw in a FREE removal of any memory involving your ex's cooking! Not recommended for beings with less than one brain. May cause occasional screaming at fruit. Please consult your necromancer before use. MemoryWipe Pro 3000™ - Can't face your embarrassment? Simply forget it exists! Your problems are still there, but now they're a surprise! And we're back! I hope everyone's properly caffeinated because it's time for our Rapid Fire Tea Round! Ambassador Glorbax, this is very simple—I ask quick questions, you give quick answers. First thought, no overthinking, definitely no forms required— No forms? But... but how will we document the validity of my responses? What about accuracy verification protocols? That's the beauty of it! Pure instinct! I don't have a form for instinct! Perfect! Here we go—efficiency or chaos? Both! Neither! I need subsection classifications! That's already an answer! Filing or flying? Filing! No wait—flying! No— Filing WHILE flying! Earl Grey or Form 27-B?...Earl Grey tastes better. Did you just choose tea over paperwork? Citation against myself! Moving on! Spontaneity or scheduling? Scheduled spontaneity at predetermined intervals! That's not.. never mind! One word answers now. Humans. One word. Go! Bewildering! Earth's greatest invention? Contradictions! Sarcasm means? Confusion! Common sense is? Vacationing! Reginald's mood today? Pensive! The Ambassador's third eye is now focused on the ceiling fan with what can only be described as romantic intensity. Right! Yes or no questions—Ever said 'no' directly since childhood? Well, under certain circumstances— YES OR NO! That's very reductive— ZORP! NO! I mean YES! I mean—I just did! Breakthrough! Is chaos documentable? Yes-no-maybe? I'll take it! Do you dream in citations?...Yes. Can love be filed? Florm says no. Quick preferences—Worst Earth custom? Small talk about weather you control! Favorite form number? 42-J! It's self-referential! Most beautiful sound? Perfect form alignment! Also Florm laughing. Biggest fear? Unfiled experiences! Guilty pleasure? Sometimes I... misfile things on purpose. Ambassador! The scandal! This or that—standardized happiness or chaotic joy? Chaotic... standardized... joyful... chaos? Three-day tea ceremony or grab-and-go? 1.5 day ceremony with documented spontaneity windows! Quantum filing or analog chaos? Quantum chaos filed analogically! You're just making things up now! It's liberating! Symmetrical scars or random wounds? Neither! Peaceful conflict resolution via forms! Listeners, Zorp just invented "quantum chaos filed analogically"—what's YOUR instant reaction? Comment with ! Current leader: "My brain just filed for workers' compensation." Universe's biggest mystery? Why anything works without proper documentation! If not investigating common sense, what career? Chaos choreographer! Is that a thing? It should be! Describe STEEP in one gurgle. That was... surprisingly accurate. And mildly offensive. Your catchphrase should be?"I have questions AND forms!"

Complete this: 1:06:53

'Life is like...' Life is like... like... a thing that's similar to life but isn't life? You're doing great! Your dating profile headline?"Seeking semi-spontaneous connection with negotiable documentation requirements!" I think Florm already swiped right on that! Advice to young Glibglobs? Say no! Mean it! File it later! Revolutionary!

Biscuits: 1:07:19

Food or friendship ritual? Friendship test disguised as nutrition! Felix's most citable offense today? Forcing rapid responses without proper assessment periods! Fair! One thing you'd never document? The way Florm's tentacles curl when ze laughs. Oh, that's actually beautiful—

I mean—Form 83-X: 1:07:41

Undocumentable Moments, Subsection: Tentacle Observations! Too late! That was pure poetry! Happiness level: File under?"Pending Review—Suspected Optimal!" And that's time! Ambassador, how many citations did you mentally file during that round? Forty-seven! No, forty-eight! You made me use a metaphor! Is that a record? I'll need Form 82-J to verify, cross-referenced with— And we're back to forms! STEEP, what was the highlight? The Ambassador achieved a state I'm categorizing as "Bureaucratic Jazz"—improvisation within structure. Also, his third eye composed this haiku during question seven:"Forms abandoned here / Chaos blooms in rapid fire / Earl Grey understands." Reginald's becoming quite the poet! Listeners, keep those reactions coming! I see someone's started a petition to make "Chaos Choreographer" an actual job title on Terra Nova! Time for our closing ceremony—and Zorp, yes, you can use forms for this part. Oh thank the Cosmic Filing Cabinet! I was developing documentation withdrawal symptoms! Well, friends, we've just spent an hour discovering that common sense isn't actually common—it's just differently sensible depending on which part of the cosmos you call home. Ambassador Glorbax came here to investigate our missing common sense, but I think he discovered something far more valuable—that chaos and order aren't enemies, they're dance partners doing the quantum tango. And sometimes, the most logical thing you can do is embrace the illogical. I've filed this entire experience under "Functional Impossibilities Worth Repeating." That might be the highest honor a Glibglob can bestow! The Ambassador has created seventeen new citation categories during this episode, including "Beneficial Bewilderment" and "Productive Paradoxes." His filing system has achieved sentience and is now questioning its own existence. Speaking of questioning existence—listeners, we want to hear about YOUR common sense deficiencies! What's the most gloriously illogical thing you do regularly? Share it with . Best submissions get featured in our new segment: "STEEP Judges Your Life Choices." I have already begun compiling inefficiency metrics. Current leader: someone who organizes their socks by emotional attachment rather than color. If you enjoyed Zorp's forty-seven page tea protocols, you'll love Episode 38 with Roric Slade, the former corporate spy who spent twenty minutes analyzing my teaspoons for"security vulnerabilities." Turns out, the sugar tongs were indeed compromised. Find it wherever you get your interdimensional podcasts! And next time on When Aliens Come to Tea... We're welcoming Fleeb Parental-Unit-Prime, a being who is literally their own family reunion. They're currently sprouting thirty-nine offspring... on their body... who all hit puberty at once during a live broadcast. Thirty-nine simultaneous puberty experiences? I'll need to create an entirely new citation category! Fleeb's parenting advice includes gems like "When you ground yourself, make sure you specify which parts." I have a feeling STEEP's translation protocols are about to get a workout. Pre-emptively establishing "Offspring Disambiguation Subroutines." This will be... educational. Until then, remember—whether you file your chaos or let it run wild, we're all just trying to make sense of this magnificent, bewildering universe. And sometimes, the best response is simply... Oh, for the love of Earl Grey—Zorp, did you just file a citation for my sign-off? Force of habit! This is Felix Andromeda, reminding you to keep your tea hot, your minds open, and your common sense... wherever it feels like vacationing.

End transmission. Citations filed: 1:12:23

127. Paradoxes created: 12. Metaphors successfully navigated by

Ambassador Glorbax: 1:12:33

1.5. Progress!