Kosmikophobia, or your ticker?

I was told this week a big, fat, hairy rumor. Maybe rumor is too harsh. Let's call it a belief — that there have been grizzly sightings up on Owl Creek Pass.
Not grizzled, as in older vacationers with silvery beards. We're talking the 600-lb. variety of ursus arctos horribilis, brown bear, Kodiak bear. You get the idea. Something that requires a lot of berries...and a few more vacationers...than our beloved black bear.
I immediately said Sasquatch had a bet- ter chance of being spotted up there than a grizzly, but I was looked at like I'm some sort of transplant with an accent.
For the record, I'm not a transplant, but I do have a slight accent.
I referred again to Colorado Parks and Wildlife, clawing at the issue to find out if they are hiding this whole covert grizzly operation from the public, just as one of their sister government agencies is keeping the facts of UFOs from us.
Turns out, CPW let it slip that what is being seen up there is a combination of government agency nightmares: extra-ter- restrial grizzlies!
I was told to keep it quiet. Yeah, right. Tell someone who buys ink by the barrel to keep something quiet.
And, CPW I'm told, is working with NASA to build a wall...sort of an outer space virtual wall sort of thing. It's going to be a big wall. And I have it under good authority (way above my CPW spokesper- son's level) that the government's going to get Martians to pay for the wall.
Now, CPW will try to throw you off course by telling you that there have been no confirmed sightings of a grizzly in Colorado since the last known grizzly in the state was killed in the south San Juan mountains in 1979.
But don't fall for it.
When you take a picture of one of these way-out grizzlies around Owl Creek Pass, send it to me. I'll print it. You and I and everyone else will know the truth is out there.
Oh, one more thing: grizzly photos with Sasquatch in the background move to the front of the line.
Do you suffer from kosmikophobia? If so, then it's best you stay in bed Monday with the curtains closed and the lights on.
Because you have a fear of cosmic phe- nomena, Monday's eclipse is going to drive you to the most well-lit room in your house.
When things begin to get a bit fuzzy and gray, somewhat muted in color and tone, you'll know why you suddenly have short- ness of breath. Then anxi-
ety will creep in and your breathing may become very rapid. You'll notice your heartbeat become irregular, you'll start sweating - more and more excessively while distant objects begin to fade into the darkened landscape. Nausea! Oh dear, not nausea. This can't be. Followed by dry mouth and the inability to articulate words.
Others will notice you shaking violently.
You'll have flashbacks to childhood. The lights getting dim, perhaps. Alone in your room at night, shadows moving across the wall. You'll see events in your past race by at cosmic speed.
Wait! Wait! Wait!
This isn't kosmikophobia. Nor is it astrophobia (fear of stars or celestial space). And it's probably not cometopho- bia, meteorophobia, or spacephobia (all self-defining).
I think you're having a heart attack!
We never really know how to react when a subscriber emails us to inform that our renewal notice is being treated unfa- vorably. We assume it is because we wrote or covered something that was disagree- able. Ordinarily, the reaction to that is a letter to the editor, but not in this case.
Rummaging through the archives of 1800s-era Colorado newspapers, I came across a solution used by another newspa- per, which we highly recommend as an alternative to such an abrupt ending to our relationship:
Those newspapers which are too proud or too obstinate to retract any unjust or improper language which they have admit- ted to their columns should profit by the example of an exchange, which gives notice as follows: "if any subscriber finds a line in his paper that he does not like and cannot agree with, if he will bring his paper to the office and point out the offending line the editor will take his scis- sors and cut it out for him."
- Colorado Weekly Chieftain, Aug. 1, 1878