I assume this new peice of Ann Arbor street art (near the intersection of Washtenaw and Observatory) has something to do with Terry Bisson’s short story, “They’re Made Out of Meat,” but I’m not sure. I suppose it could also be a statement about cannibalism, perhaps inspired by the book, “The Road.” If you haven’t read Bisson’s story, you should. It’s sort. And, almost as important, it’s good. Here’s how it begins.
“They’re made out of meat.”
“Meat?”
“Meat. They’re made out of meat.”
“Meat?”
“There’s no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They’re completely meat.”
“That’s impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?”
“They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don’t come from them. The signals come from machines.”
“So who made the machines? That’s who we want to contact.”
“They made the machines. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Meat made the machines.”
“That’s ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You’re asking me to believe in sentient meat.”
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they’re made out of meat.”
“Maybe they’re like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage.”
“Nope. They’re born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn’t take long. Do you have any idea what’s the life span of meat?”
“Spare me. Okay, maybe they’re only part meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside.”
“Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They’re meat all the way through”…
And apparently the same little fellow showed up in Seattle about 6 weeks ago.
I’m not sure what it all means, but I suspect that some high-priced alien marketing firm is behind it.
12 Comments
Tastes like chicken.
“Except for that Steve Swan. He’s made of cock.”
I’ve seen and wondered about that poster. My mind has settled on the following meaning: you have the same makeup as a chicken, cow, pig, goat, etc. I see it as pro veg, but that may just be the lens through which I’m viewing it. Your alien hypothesis is far more creative.
You guys really can’t hear the little man in the poster telling you to eat people, can you? I guess I must really be special.
I can’t tell which of those three things are his mouth. It’s really confusing me.
I hope that I’m “probed all the way through” before I die.
But not as I die.
Imagine how great it would be to have hands made of fried chicken that you could nibble on all day long.
I loved that story. One of my faves.
I’m not made of meat. I’m made of jesus.
I’m made of sugar and spice and everything nice. That’s what I’m made of.
I’m mostly preservatives by now.