“Psychedelic Communicator”

This lovely soap, that I received as a gift from friends, comes from Tucson, Arizona, where I lived for a week in 1982 in a biker rooming house while I failed to find a job, and yet I have nothing but fond memories of the place. I want to begin by emphasizing that this is a fine soap—good for skin, pleasant fragrance, and striking appearance—before getting on to its mysterious nature. LovLab has a website, though I can't find this soap on it, now, or elsewhere on the internet. The label is Earth-friendly and almost non-existent, with just the address, company name, “Sea Glass” and then in smaller letters, “Ocean Shores”—and these ingredients: “Oils of palm, canola, and coconut with shea and cocoa butters.” Obviously there are additional fragrance and color ingredients (or else, someone performed some magic), but that's not even the most mysterious thing here.

First of all, the name “Sea Glass”—which is old glass that washes up from the sea, smooth and frosted. It's a nice name, but it doesn't connect, in an obvious way, to this soap, which has a swirling, purple, red, blue, and pink pattern like the marbled endpapers of some old books. I don't know what the name of that pattern is; maybe it's sea glass. Anyway, the real odd thing is that there are three red dots—that, as the soap went along, I realized were translucent, and went through the entire bar (so are obviously, red cylinders). This became more intriguing as the soap got smaller. Also, the colors seemed to retain their intensity, and indeed become more saturated as the soap got smaller. I have no idea how they pulled all this off. Then there's the fragrance, which is totally familiar to me, but I can't put my finger on it (perhaps just due to my deficiencies in this area). Maybe it's the sea, but what does the sea smell like? Definitely a pleasant and kind of beguiling smell; at first I thought of cheap wine, then I remembered the smell when walking by the Kool-Aid factory in Columbus, Ohio, in 1982. Kind of fruity and floral at the same time. I know that might sound gross, but it's nice.

All of this leads me to believe that this soap was put here by space aliens, whether by space travel or time-travel, and is thus not of this Earth. It could be some kind of communication device, or spy device, or maybe something we don't even have a concept for. Which doesn't mean it's bad—in fact, I want to believe that it's for good. After all, what good does it do to worry, when you're so clearly outmatched? This soap proves that! On the other hand, maybe it's just some really advanced soap, and as I learn more, I'll figure out how it's made—in which case, I'll get back to you.

By Randy Russell