Speaking of aliens, why are Americans so reluctant to welcome anybody from Mexico and so enamored, witness the grosses for Independence Day, of the idea of encountering creatures from another planet?
Now, I don't want to get off on a rant here, but it seems like nowadays you can't throw a rock without hitting somebody... who'll claim it was a UFO. As life on this planet swirls in an ever-increasing speed down the crapper, is it any wonder that we've become more and more fixated with this notion of life elsewhere?
All began in the 50s when we saw an astronomical increase in the number of UFO sightings. In fact, before 1947 there were next to no reports of UFOs. Is it just a coincidence that everyone began to see flying saucers about the same time everyone began seeing Communists? World War II was over and we needed something new to fear.
In 1947 something crashed in Roswell, New Mexico. Some believe four aliens were discovered at the site and that their remains, as well as the flying saucer, are being held in an Air Force installation 100 miles north of Las Vegas in an area known as Area 51. UFO-ologists insist that the four aliens and manager, Brian Epstein, accidentally crashed their own flying saucer. Yeah, because they can travel 350 million light years dodging black holes, asteroids and comets, but those New Mexico telephone wires are a real bitch! I think two of the four aliens might have survived the wreck, escaped from Area 51 and made it to Vegas where they have been doing nine shows a week under the name Siegfried and Roy!!
Now, true believers say that Area 51 is definitely hiding something because if you go there, they won't let you in and they won't tell you what they have there. You know why that is? Because it's a fuckin' military installation, alright?! What, do you think that if you go to Areas 1 through 50 you're gonna get a Chardonnay and some gouda? No you're not! You're gonna get turned away faster than Roger Clinton tryin' to get backstage at a Marilyn Manson concert!
Now some believe that there is an authentic film of an autopsy on one of the Roswell aliens. I saw the film on FOX. I believe it was sandwiched between a very special "Martin" and a special "Party of Five." And, ahh, I thought the autopsy was as authentic as a piece of total bullshit can be. Ahh, by the way, you know what they found at the autopsy? Traces of OJ's blood.
Now, in addition to the Area 51 freaks, there are those who legitimize the existence of aliens vis-a-vis the appearance of crop patterns that resemble the symbol that Prince uses as his name etched into an okra field outside of Mount Pilot. Alright, occasionally bizarre patterns can be seen if you and Mike, the crop duster who dated Bee Benadara's lesbian daughter, Bobby Jo, fly over the fields out back of the Shady Rest. Some say it's a landing marker for aliens; I say it's Uncle Joe with an IV drip of grain alcohol and a Weedwacker.
Another core-ingredient of UFO studies is the abduction by aliens. Under hypnosis the abductees recollections all share the same characteristics; long stretches of time unaccounted for, strange bruises on the body, a suspicion of sexual violation. Is it just me or does alien abduction sound amazingly like spring break?
Listen, it's a natural tendency to look skyward for the next shiny thing to answer our prayers. That's why people flock to UFO conventions; in the hope that when the inevitable mass landing does happen the star gods will first want to get in touch with the mentally unstable among us.
The purest defining event of the UFO culture has got to be the Star Trek convention. Not since the Pope and Cardinal O'Connor spoke to a symposium of nuns catered by the Amish has so little sexual experience been assembled in one room.
Hey look, I'd be the first one to tell ya I would welcome aliens, because quite frankly, I'm running out of people to despise on this planet.
Despite the barnacles of cynicism which resolutely encrust my hull, I do believe that there is life other than ours somewhere other than Earth. I just don't think they're coming here! I don't know who they are or what they drive, but I assume that they, like I, stick to the tenet that the less you have to do with your neighbors, the better off it is for everyone involved.
To an extraterrestrial, Planet Earth at best would be like the Vince Lombardi rest stop along the Jersey Turnpike. Chances are they stop off here once to try to stretch their tiny gray limbs, pick up a nut log and take a leak out of one of their 47 penises. But, on the off-chance that there are super advanced alien beings out there tonight interpreting this signal: First of all, thank you for watching. And now, I want you to listen up, Caldar of Ramoula-Five! When you do come here and abduct one of us, invariably, might I add, one of us from a rural address, please... Stay out of our asses, okay! There's nothing in our asses that will help you and your dying planet! Life is tough enough out there in Grow Country without you procto-naunts downing a couple cases of Zima and getting your moon rocks off checking on Jethro's oil, okay.
Of course, that's just my opinion. I could be wrong.