Why Space Aliens Don't Matter One Tiddle

Battleship-Grey Alien Mother-Ship Steaming to Betelgeuse

(Choppy waters off coast of Neptune)

Upcoming Story: Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries commissioned by our Emperor and Empress to investigate bewildering reports of flying "buttresses," twinkling lights in the night sky, alien subductions, a frightening "ball of fire" seen in daytime (so bright it casts shadows!), ashtrays emptied in orbit, head-achy, dehydrated, and coughing cattle that have been mystifyingly "partied." Also allegations of unmarked stealth auto-gyros and Black Men in Slacks. Our conclusions may surprise you. [Ed: One big conclusion--there seems to be something Out There in Space that passing aliens regularly clobber their heads on. Dazed and bruised bearers of "intergalactic olive branches" and "apocalyptic warnings" stumble cross-eyed into our backwater solar system often not knowing what happened to them, or where the hell they are. (Imagine being knocked nearly senseless by a passing horseless carriage and dizzily wandering into, say, a small town bridal shop or slot-car racing enthusiast joint mumbling away like a lunatic--it's kind of like that for them). Usually, they're simply (yet painfully) trying to explain to terrified or enraptured folks that there's something out there one can hit ones head on, and either be careful or I'm calling my lawyer; we suspect it's just an exposed "pipe." Being alien beings, recovery is rapid, or they're soon retrieved by grouchy half-asleep relatives wearing (in a deeply disturbing alien sense) "overcoats over their pajamas," but in the meantime these disoriented space-men and women can also get into plenty of goofy trouble of the sort they're often very embarrassed about the next day. It's all so Frank Capra-esque]