In all my cycles I have never written a letter to a Congress-Man, so please understand that the situation is grave. Upon reading my letter, I trust that you will understand and take immediate action, as it is your sworn duty as a Congress-Man to cater to the concerns of your constituent-men.
Mr. Congress-Man, what are we doing with meatballs?
The answer is not enough. May I propose to you this radical notion: meatballs in everything.
In my many studies of sustenance I have seen scant few dishes that contain meatballs. These dishes are spaghetti and meatballs and meatball sandwiches. What? Oh, my friend is yelling "Swedish meatballs" at me. I do not know what that means. The most notorious meatball dish is spaghetti and meatballs. Why should something as great as a meatball be subordinate to pasta and tomato sauce? Surely that is an injustice worth righting.
In this planet's other nations they are supposedly doing bold things with meatballs. We are being left in the dust, breathing in the fumes of failure like common sponges. This is ridiculous! I appeal to your patriotism, brave handler of America's will, to bring about a revolution. Bring meatballs to everyone, every day, every meal. That is phase one.
The wonder of the meatball is the ingenuity of it. Mr. Congress-Man, it is a ball of meat. In this day and age of super science we should be able to do more with a ball of meat than mummify it in long strands of soft pasta. Mr. Congress-Man, your science-men put a man on the moon and sent little transports to explore the nearby Martian provinces. Why does it prove so difficult for your modern science-men to do more with meatballs? Is it fear? I will show you that there is nothing to fear.
I propose that we remedy this situation right away with a Meatball Awareness Period. Give a child meatballs and he will grow up a man of significant girth and sustenance. He will become a source of many more meatballs for others. Meatballs are self-replicating like a virus, but they are here to help us. We can befriend the meatball collective and control its power. There is eternal life in the meatball if only we will learn to listen. The frequency is there but you are just not tuned in like I am.
Mr. Congress-Man, I am a humble immigrant. I came to this country from a dream about meatballs as vivid as any reality. Gravimetric forces set in motion by a massive explosion took shapeless meat and compressed it into balls. I am a meatball yet made and yet I am meatballs all the same, as all life is built from tiny meatballs beyond the reach of eyeballs, themselves meatballs of a different sort (seeing meatballs).
Meatballs are the bricks of tomorrow. Today we build massive skyscrapers and domes and transports out of bricks but the world of tomorrow will be built out of meatballs. Think about it. We can eat our cities if the need arises and they will never go away, because we will be one in the same as our cities. Mostly we will find quiet corners and suckle the nourishing protein like graceful fawns at the teat of majesty. That is phase two.
"I am hungry" a poor man will communicate.
"Look around you, the world is your meatball," I will reply through a series of instructive pulses and hums. The entire world is a giant meatball made of smaller meatballs, populated by living meatballs of varying sizes. I have an equation that proves this, Mr. Congress-Man. You can make my equation a reality if only you will take action.
The motion picture "Meatballs" was not what I expected it to be and I left the theater prematurely via particle entanglement methods unknown to the primitive theater ushers. This was a wakeup call for me.
Mr. Congress-Man, in 1947 a craft crashed in Roswell, New Mexico while on a routine survey mission of the Borealis Anomaly, §§ 52-1242. I would like my helmet and suit returned to me from the government archives as soon as possible. The air here is too thick and there are too many impurities corroding my thought corridors. In exchange, I will show your science-men a meathypersphere. It is a construct that will prepare you for phase three.
Mr. Congress-Man, as I write this the meatball collective frequency is scraping my ears so badly that they are gushing fluid. Still I write and still I implore you to do what is right for your congressional sector and the world around it. The fate of all mankind may rest in the balance.
Mr. Congress-Man, what are we doing with meatballs?
We are building a better world. That is what we are doing.
A Concerned Constituent-Man
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