Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Extra-territorial Pissings

There are only two things I hate waking up to. One is discovering I’ve no coffee left. The other is receiving an “official” email telling me my blog has just been blasted into deep space through some fancy-sounding dish antenna.

That just got my goat. To be fair, when I signed up, I really had wanted to “reach out” to somebody in the star Vega, which was what inspired the writing of the post, “Jesus Sings Sinatra.” It was my way of saying, “We have here some fellow who walked on water; now, it’s your turn. Tell me your planet’s joke.”

That was done in the spirit of intergalactic camaraderie, because I had this feeling in my guts that aliens are no different from people like Scott Adams’s Evil HR Director or folks who suddenly appear in your cubicle muttering the line, “Your base are belong to us!”

But in the intervening time, I realize I might have written something that might make alien life forms unhappy. How would they feel, for example, when they read about my War Against Small Animals? What if aliens were just guinea pigs with laser pistols, and they see my recipe for guinea pig cake? I’m also pretty sure they’d take offense with the way I projected Abner Mercado’s importance in the future of human language (assuming that Abner, in fact, had been spawned in the raging eye of the birthing of Andromeda; hence, the exoskeleton, err, I mean, the ethnic get-up).

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So, to make up for it, I’ve drafted a little haiku as some sort of “I come in peace” line for the aliens who’ll be reading this blog.

[official intergalactic haiku]

If the moon is cheese
And your planet is my butt hole
I’ll poke you, I’ll poke you, I’ll poke you!

Brilliant, isn’t it? My haiku’s so subtle it’s not very obvious that I’m apologizing. I guess that’s just the rare beauty of “alien-speak.”

For similar posts, see BullShit Meister.

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jay said...

One thing I hate the most is when my ex-roommate used to eat all of my fruit loops! There is nothing worse than to come home, look forward to a bowl of fruit loops with milk, open the cupboard, look inside the box and see a total of 6 fruit loops left! Needless to say, I am no longer living with that roommate anymore. You know what he said when I confronted him? Oh, he was hungry, and didn't think I would eat my own fruit loops....argh..

sleepless dream said...

i'd feel very very exposed beaming up stuff to the aliens.
so either stop writting (please don't!) or stop beaming up your thoughts.

they listen