The Recruitocosm
It's like, all around us. Man.
The Recruitocosm is a semi-imaginary plane of existence which overlaps the exact physical geography of the state of Texas. It's reality is recognized by a substantial number of Texans and their near galactic neighbors: particularly the rabid faithful who follow college football and, most particularly, the high school football players who hope one day to be rabidly followed.
It is my understanding that people tripping LSD, Max Emfinger and bullmastiffs can also see it.
Sitting astride The Recruitocosm with a Jovian presence is the Planet Longhorn: whose substantial gravitiational pull tugs on the heart and minds of young satellites from El Paso to Beaumont, Laredo to Amarillo. Other planets spend agonzing weeks worrying that their orbiting moons and satellites will come too close to the Longhorn sphere of influence and be forever lost. Like clockwork, several major moons are lost every year to the large Texan spheroid-- most troublingly, even those moons and satellites which once seemed to orbit only inches from their host planet. Longhorn's pull is mighty. Even intergalactic raiders who fear no one -- from FreeShoes, Daygloworange, Drunkirish and MaizenBlue -- are wary of crossing it.
To the Far East, just outside the edge of the Recruitocosm, sits the long dormant planet of Bengal -- a planet now expanding and reasserting influence on its long raided territories. Bengal's pull on the Eastern portion of the Recruitocosm is not inconsiderable.
To the Far Northwest, lies Sandaggis -- an asteroid which is finally abandoning its solitary West Texas galactic ellipses and charting a new route. No one is sure where this asteroid is headed though its course will likely miss Planet Longhorn entirely. Many believe that Sandaggis will burn most bright in the heavens right before a colossal implosion. Then it will wake up on the side of the galactic highway with a hangover, a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels and a vomit-stained timepiece, the face of which reveals that it's eight hours late to an alumni meeting at space station Muleshoe.
On the farthest Northern hinterland of The Recruitocosm is the dreaded Black hOUle, once dormant, now awake and hungry. It would swallow the whole Recruitocosm if it could -- and it has before. The Black hOUle is a piece in the cosmic topography feared by all -- even Planet Longhorn. For now, it largely avoids Planet Longhorn, choosing to bide its time, but it feasts viciously on other less formidable planets to gain strength for the Big Showdown that will one day come.
Get out a map of the Recruitocosm (you have it in your car glovebox). Look at the geography. Now draw triangles around the places where one finds the best moons and satellites. Now draw small Ptolemaic expanding circles from each planet, asteroid and body of The Recruitocosm and see where they overlap. Factor in the relative power and pull of those bodies on those iosceles full of moons and satellites. Now ask yourself: where would you NOT want to be?
Now imagine that you're THERE. A lonely astral body located directly between Longhorn and Bengal. When you stray, your favorite paths of orbit are directly between the Black hOUle and Longhorn. Every time you pass between them, you're rocked. Even the asteroid Sandaggis strafes you from time to time. Your planet is being ripped asunder and your moons are growing sparse.
Now imagine that, instead of observing what's happening to your planet and debating other courses of action, you decide that you'll simply deny the existence of The Recruitocosm entirely. You have now trascended the Recruitocosm and are moving to a more rural plane: a sort of gravy stained Elysian Fields. There is only one planet in the universe, your planet, Planet Reveille. Her moons are Forney, Skidmore and Naaman Forest. Your name is Commandante Buttpot. You have mild acne. Your 36 inch paramilitary toy soldier chest is emblazoned with medals for sodomy compliance. You grew up in a Houston suburb yet now you pretend you're country. You have named your truck. You say things like "Whoop!" and "Hullabaloo Caneck Caneck" with no hint of irony. Go ahead...scream. No one can hear you. You have entered THE AGGIECOSM!
Assimilate or be destroyed.