Just like in the movies BY AL DIAMON

Sometimes we can learn important lessons from unlikely sources.

But mostly not.

In general, when we try to convince ourselves we’ve gained valuable experience as a result of indulging in some stupid whim, we’re really deluding ourselves in order to justify the time we wasted, not to mention the cost of bail and attorney’s fees.

I mention this because I had planned to spend the days immediately following Christmas engaged in serious research on the thousands of bills being prepared for the current legislative session, such as Portland state Senator Ethan Strimling’s measure which would allow Maine to annex Portsmouth, NH (mmm, cheap booze), or Vassalboro state Representative William Browne’s legislation to permit trash collectors to display flashing yellow warning lights on their vehicles (Pull over! We’re being chased by an officially sanctioned garbage truck!).

That was before I opened my gifts and discovered a 12-DVD set of "SciFi Classics," containing such cinematic masterpieces as Teenagers From Outer Space (which is notable for featuring not a single actor below the legal drinking age), Robot Monster (which is notable for featuring not a single robot), and The Wild Women of Wongo (which is notable for the women’s distinct lack of wildness).

As the clock ticked away toward the hour when our state representatives and senators would return to Augusta, I ignored the progress of the special committee studying property-tax relief to concentrate on the finer plot points of The Atomic Brain (nasty old woman pays a scientist to transplant her brain into the body of a beautiful young girl), She Gods of Shark Reef (bad guys get shipwrecked on an island of weird — but not particularly wild — women), and Hercules Against the Moonmen (aliens attack ancient Greece in order to stamp out civilization before B movies can be invented).

Now, as my deadline approaches, I find the only thing I’ve written in my notebook is this inexplicable exchange from Killers From Space, in which Peter Graves, playing a famous scientist, discovers the sinister plot of an alien with eyes that appear to be made of huge sunny-side-up eggs:

Graves: Wait a minute, all this equipment?

Alien: Our nucleo-storage units. To date, we have accumulated several billion volts as a result of your atomic explosions.

Graves: Several billion! Why a chain reaction at this point could release enough unstable isotopes to . . . to create a new and powerful element. Might be impossible to control.

Alien: True. An element that will never be known by your scientists.

There’s probably a metaphor in there someplace, possibly about Appleton state Representative Barbara Merrill’s plan to restructure county government. Even if there isn’t, I’m going to pretend there is, so I can get this column written and get back to watching movies.

Merrill: Wait a minute, all these counties?

Alien County Commissioner (played by Esther Clenott of Cumberland County with two sunny-side-up eggs on her eyes): Our budget storage units. To date, we have accumulated several billion dollars as a result of your explosive property values.

Merrill: Several billion! Why a chain reaction at this point could release enough unstable voters to create a new and powerful tax revolt. It might be impossible to control.

Alien: True. But since voters have almost no influence over county spending, they’ll take out their frustrations on helpless legislators and town councilors, little suspecting we are the real villains. Bwah haw haw haw haw haw.

Merrill’s plan to reduce the number of counties from 16 to eight, while shifting their funding from the property tax to the real-estate transfer tax (which would have to be increased for homes sold for more than $250,000) seems kind of timid when compared to that of, say, Zontar, The Thing From Mars ("I have come to your backward planet to obliterate county government, which increases property taxes by an average of more than six percent statewide, while providing no services that couldn’t be offered more efficiently by state or local governments. Also, I’m looking for wild women") or White Pongo ("Look out! It’s county government, the missing link in governmental evolution. It should have been extinct eons ago. Run for your lives!") or Warning From Space ("Attention Earthlings! County government is overheating the political atmosphere. Unless it is destroyed, all economic life in your state will wither and die").

And so we see that even though many of these films were made by morons on budgets a mere fraction of the size of the annual salary of a county administrator, they carry messages of great value. Those messages can be summed up in this line of dialogue from Horrors of Spider Island, spoken by a scantily clad actress (at last, a movie with moderately wild women) fleeing a mutated monster. She said:

"Arrrggghh!"

It’s show time. But when I’m done with all 50 fright flicks, I won’t be afraid to read any emails you send me at ishmaelia@gwi.net