Educating Zork

I cast my line and heard the pleasant "plop" of the bait land square in the middle of the pond. As I leaned back against a tree stump, I heard a whirring sound in the sky and turned to watch a spaceship land in the field behind me.

A stairway unfolded and a creature resembling a five-foot tall Pillsbury Doughboy emerged onto the platform. He waddled down the steps and, upon reaching the ground, spotted me at the pond's edge. He plodded toward me until he stood by my side. In a mellow voice he said, "Excuse me. Is this Earth?"

"Yup."

"In what region have I happened to land?"

"It's called America."

He nodded as he gazed at the scenery. "Does the entire country look like this?"

"Nope. You landed smack dab in Montana, you lucky devil." I set down my pole and offered up my hand. "My name's Erik."

He reached down with his puffy fingers and grasped my hand. "Zork."

I motioned for Zork to sit down, and he settled onto a large, flat rock. "Can you tell me about America?" he asked.

"What do ya wanna know?"

"First, tell me about your leadership. How is it structured?"

"Well, for one thing, we have about 300 million inhabitants in this country, and we choose 535 leaders for something called 'Congress.'"

"Interesting. These 'Congress' beings must be the wisest, noblest, and most honest of all Americans."

"Um. Well..."

"Are they not?"

"To be honest, they spend a lot of our money on things like flying their mistresses to exotic locations."

"Hmm. Well, do you have a Supreme Leader?"

"Yes, he's called the President."

"And how does this President become Supreme Leader?"

"Well, it's like this. Every four years several privileged people travel around America calling each other names. When we decide which one we despise the least, we select him and hope he doesn't ruin the country."

Zork rubbed his puffy chin. "Well then, how about your sustenance? Before landing here, I saw vast areas of natural vegetation and clean water. Surely you must eat very wholesome foods. What is the most common meal here in America?"

"The most common meal? We pump animals full of antibiotics and hormones and gather up their by-products. We then smear chemical preservatives into the resulting mass and form this substance into disks. We freeze and unfreeze the disks a few times and position them between grain products so highly processed as to become nearly tasteless."

"Oh? But you are most fortunate to have an abundance of pure water to consume with these objects."

"Maybe so, but we ordinarily drink an artificially colored and flavored concoction derived from chemical compounds."

Zork stared at me a moment. "How about art? At least you must have some form of artistic endeavors in this country."

"Oh yes. We've got museums and performances of ballet, opera, and symphonies."

"Ah, I assume Americans spend all their free time frequenting such substantive cultural endeavors."

"Actually, I've read the average American watches about seven hours of television a day."

"Television?"

"An electronic box that depicts images and sounds."

"What images and sounds?"

"People killing each other, others telling bad jokes, and terribly untalented individuals competing to become famous."

In a pose resembling 'The Thinker,' Zork scrunched down and rested his chin on his fist.

At length he sat up and turned to me. "Have I heard correctly? In America, you choose unethical villains to lead you, contaminate your wholesome food products into chemical oddities, and spend the majority of your time staring at meaningless acts transmitted from a box?"

"That about sums it up."

Zork frowned. "Your life here must be exceedingly distressful. Come with me to my planet. We don't live such a bizarre existence."

I smiled. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass."

"So be it." The alien stood, nodded to me, then plodded back to his spaceship. After he climbed the steps and reached the ramp, he turned to me once more. "This is your last chance."

I glanced around at the peaceful pond, the Montana mountains, and the pine trees swaying in the soothing breeze. I felt a million miles from Washington D.C., fast food joints, and television sit-coms.

I turned to him and waved. "You run along, Zork. I'm gonna stay right here."