Everyone knows it's really the mice, of course

Went for a performance of a cabaret play [1] called I'm Nobody's Lunch last night.

(Spoiler Warning)

It's an interesting enough performance - offering you snapshots of what the performers claim are interviews with real people [2] talking about how we know what to believe in the post 9/11 world of government misinformation. How do we figure out the truth about the burning issues of our time: Were there ever WMDs in Iraq? Is Gitmo real? Are we really mind-controlled sex slaves of the CIA? Is Tom Cruise gay?

On the whole, I thought the premise was fascinating, and the show itself was amusing, if not exactly spectacular. There were certainly sections where my interest waned, but how can you not enjoy a performance that ends with a song comparing love to Schrodinger's Cat?

At any rate. The reason I started to write this post was this: One of the central claims of the performance is that Earth is peopled by invisible alien beings called the Annanochi (sp?) who feed on the energy we generate and therefore must keep us in a constant state of panic in order to stay nourished. Our task as humans then, is to resist these creatures, and refuse to give in to our anxieties - thus proudly ensuring that we are nobody's lunch.

Of course, the fact that this theory is propounded by an actor in lavender trousers who is playing a 10,000 year old alien from the Pleiades with a bad East European accent and insists on calling you 'my boy' is reason to be at least a little skeptical of it. But what intrigued me about the idea was this - if you really did live on a planet run by super intelligent beings who monitored and controlled every move you make, and they told you that things would turn out badly, shouldn't you believe them? I mean, vested interests aside, isn't it likely that they know what they're talking about? And if they really are so keen on using our fear as snack food, isn't trying to contradict them and argue that the world is not so bad after all, just an invitation for them to prove that no, the world actually is that bad, and there really IS reason to be afraid? If the theory is true, wouldn't we be better off trying to convince these creatures to go on some sort of low-carb diet, something that makes them cut back on all this unsaturated terror they're eating? Where's Atkins when you need him? He's just the man. After all, every time I go on a diet the pounds I end up shedding are invisible too.

Notes

[1] Before anyone gets too excited, the cabaret bit only means that it's a variety show consisting of a bunch of unconnected scenes including songs, monologues and skits. Half-naked women slithering down poles are, unfortunately, not included.

[2] Although given the kind of paranoia that the play deals in, it's only fitting that one questions the truth of this claim. Are there really people that wierd out there? Or did the company just make them up?