This is a "humorous" piece I wrote a few years ago, in hopes of it catapaulting me to fame. Yes, I'm that stupid. Anyway, please feel free to read it, or ignore it completely. I have no ability to force your hand.
It’s only a matter of time. It’s no longer a question of if, merely a question of when. As soon as that guy on Mars found all that water, preparations should have began. And yet I can find nothing. I’ve surfed around the web at least four times looking for anything that might be considered any sort of plan of attack, and I’m very disappointed with the lack of information I’ve found.
Earth is completely unprepared for an alien encounter.
Please, people out there prove me wrong. If you are a top-level government employee, perhaps even the president of a country, have access to a plan of this sort, and are reading this, drop me a line and assuage my fears. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Until I get that phone call however, I will operate under the assumption that no plan exists. And since there is a void, I have decided to use my expertise to help out. For a small fee and a personal hovercraft, I will offer my services to anyone who wants to know how to deal with a potential alien encounter. I also wouldn’t be opposed to either, "Commander of Galactic Affairs" or "The Han Solo of the Free Planet Earth," as a title, but we can work all that out later.
Why me? I’m glad you asked. I am aware my expertise may come into question, so I have gone ahead and made a list of credentials:
- I have seen a good number of science fiction movies, some involving aliens. From Independence Day to the one about the creatures that try to blow up the world, science fiction movies have a lot to offer.
- About 20 years ago, when I was a young lad growing up in the backwoods of the Philadelphia suburbs, I’m pretty sure I saw a UFO. My dad had decided to take my friend and me to the park, and when getting out of the car, my eye caught a shiny object in the afternoon sky. It appeared to be metallic and traveling faster than a car could, if a car was capable of flight. My first ten-year-old thought was that it was a plane, but that explanation was quickly scuttled when my friend, who also saw the object stated, "there is no way that is a plane." As he was ten at the time as well, and coincidentally shared the same birthday as myself, I considered him a suitable enough expert in the field of aeronautics, and took his opinion as fact.
Most of my other qualifications rely heavily on owning one of those cool pen telescopes you can buy at the Smithsonian Aerospace Museum and the occasional perusing of Time magazine, but I don’t want to bore you with anymore technical jargon.
I do realize there may be a few of you out there thinking that alien contact will be beneficial for the human race. I’m sure some of you will even think my ideas are a little "harsh," or "extreme," or "absurd," or better yet, "non-sensical." Well, you’re wrong. Aliens would like nothing more than to use our toes as garnishes to their alien martinis.
So go ahead and call me Space Nugent, or The Hunter S. Thompson of the Milky Way, but don’t come crying to me when you’re getting herded into the De-Boning Facility to be processed as a breakfast for Luron, the Space Lord of Nebula Greneth.
This is why my approach to aliens landing on Earth is similar to the popular strategy new inmates are told to adopt when going to prison. Kill the first guy you see and show everyone you ain’t takin' crap from no one. Once the aliens see we mean business, serious negotiations can begin – we can decide whether to initiate intergalactic glasnost or initiate the countdown to an ass whooping.
The following guidelines are to be used in the event of an alien encounter. Now, these should be treated as simply that – guidelines. They aren’t set in stone, since no one can predict the future. Except maybe The Amazing Kreskin. Only he’s getting pretty old, and unless aliens land in the next week or so I fear he will be dead before we can use his amazing powers. So until we have figured out how Kreskin does those crazy card tricks, or we decide to keep his brain alive in a jar somewhere, these guidelines are all we have. Here we go:
- Once aliens have landed on Earth, trust no one. Not your mom, not your best friend, not the whore you visit every Tuesday night. Assume alien beings are disguising themselves to look like the common housewife, or have the ability use some sort of space voodoo mind control to take over people’s bodies. If you don’t, it will only lead to confusion and the faux pa of telling embarrassing, personal stories not to your priest, but to a vile, blood sucking zombie creature that looks like your priest. Don’t let it happen. Err on the side of caution when coming in contact with anyone you suspect of being an alien in disguise with either vague pleasantries or a shotgun blast to the face.
- When first greeting the aliens, whether it is in your backyard or in the middle of the desert, blast them in the face with some oxygen when they first come down the ramp. Maybe we get lucky and the thing we need to survive will be the one thing that will kill them.
- Don’t send the President or any other people deemed important to the first alien meeting. I’m not suggesting rustling up hobos to go shake hands, but we definitely don’t want anyone there who makes the big decisions. Send a couple lab techs out there – people who can remember some basic instructions, but won’t be missed if the aliens decide they need to take some "specimens" back to the hive.
- If the negotiations start going downhill, give up Australia. Somehow it got continent status way back when, so the aliens will think it’s somehow "important" to us and that we’ll "care what happens" to it. If that’s not enough, throw in Scandinavia. Stupid fjords.
- Remember – objectivity is the key when dealing with aliens. No type of alien – neither the scaly eight-foot tall, toothy face-suckers, nor the cute, poofy-looking ones that want to cuddle can be trusted when it comes to this type of meeting. Sorry ET, you’re not fooling me. Sure, your stomach lights up and you’ve got big eyes, but behind that lovable exterior lies something dark. Why did you come to Earth? Why didn’t your pals come back for you once they saw your empty seat in the spaceship? Why did you get so attached to a nine-year-old kid?
- Set up a resistance group right away, regardless of what you think the aliens’ supposed intentions are. One day they’re your best friend, the next they’re stomping puppies and eating all our ice cream. Don’t get bamboozled! I’d much rather be a part of an Earth resistance group fighting against these potential overlords than getting hoodwinked because we believed the "we’re so far advanced war, is extinct" rhetoric they were spewing. Marc Singer got it right. If aliens show up on Earth, it’s most likely because they need something. And they don’t like to ask. Besides, isn’t being in the resistance just plain cooler? On the off chance you actually defeat the aliens, two words – mucho sex. Plus, you know all the hippies gravitate toward resistance groups. All the good strains of the Mary Jane are gonna be flowing through your hideaway! Resistance Group = primo weed.
Am I overreacting? It’s quite possible. Am I crazy? I think we all know the answer to that. But I hope I’ve opened your eyes at least a little to the possible danger lurking out there in the cosmos. If we’re not careful the world is going to get caught with its pants down, and that’s no way to greet an alien race. Sure, nothing would be greater if aliens came down and we all got along like the Care Bears. I’m just worried that the Care Bears scenario is too fictional. Because we live in a non-Care Bear world. Aliens could come anytime, from anywhere, and for any reason. War…peace…a rest stop on the galactic highway…anything. It’s why I carry a sock full of lye wherever I go. As my crazy moon shining uncle used to say, "A poor man’s shotgun is just as good as the real thing."
And I can’t think of a better reason to carry that sock today other than to defend my universal freedoms and melt the face off of some nasty alien.