Alien Night Club - Show 17?
Alien Night Club <the transcripts>
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Show 17! Show 17! Show 17?
The big show. The Turkey Day show.
Show 17.
It is Show 17, right?
I dunno. Is it?
I am your non-adjectival host Captain Blank. Captain Nefarious Blank. That’s actually not my first name but it has a nice ring to it. This is the Alien Night Club. It’s sexy and it knows it. That makes it sound like it’s a sentient entity. And we’re inside it. Welcome!
Let’s get right to it: show notes.
Some interesting stuff this evening. Especially considering I almost skipped the show altogether. I was thinking about it. It’s Turkey Day. It’s a holiday. Somewhere. Back on Earth. In certain places on Earth, everyone is doing a whole big thing today. And only today. And I don’t really even want to talk about it.
So let’s not.
It’ll be hilarious if you’re watching this or hearing this or reading this after Thanksgiving. You’re like, Thanksgiving was almost a month ago, dumb-ass. It’s almost Christmas. You’re a day late and a dollar short.
For what? To buy whatever you’re selling? As in, you sold it yesterday. So it’s already gone. Because you only had one? It must’ve been a car or something similar. And you also say I’m a dollar short? As in, you wouldn’t spot me a dollar to buy a car from you? Is that what you’re saying? A lousy dollar? I’m buying an original green Countach and I’m paying two hundred and fifty grand for it but when you count the money I only have two hundred forty nine thousand nine hundred ninety nine? So I am literally a dollar short and you won’t spot me?
Is that illegal? Does it make you co-owner? Or one two hundred fifty thousandth owner?
I think my hairline is receding. I’m pretty sure. I see more curvature than I used to. I really don’t want to lose my hair.
All the bald guys are like, Shut the fuck up.
And all the bald women are like, Shut the fuck up.
And all the bald cancer patients are like, Shut the fuck up.
And all the bald cancer kids are like, Shut the fuck up.
And all the Progeria kids are like, Shut the fuck up.
I also think my penis may be too big.
Moving on….
Show notes: Humans hate to read.
Humans hate to read. Not all of them. But a lot of them. Even the ones who love to read have times when they, too, hate doing it.
A lot of people find it hard. It takes concentration and effort. It’s different than consuming with your eyes. Watching a movie. A video.
If you want to make it big today, like really big, a bigness big, you have to work in a visual medium.
If you choose to work in a written medium, which is still visual but you guys are smart and you understand the difference between using your eyes to read versus using your eyes to let the creator stroke creators of that content make sweet love to your mind with their creation.
But if you choose to work in a written medium, be prepared for no one to give a shit. It’s shocking, really, how little interest there is. No one says shit and they are clearly, clearly, CLEARLY hoping that you do NOT mention it. They do not want to have that conversation with you where they pretend to be interested and agree to read it despite knowing they’re not going to. And their new plan is to not read it and avoid you and if they do see you or talk to you or communicate with you in any way, they will act super harried. Not harry. Harried. Busy and with too many people asking them to do stuff. And the reason they do that is so you get the message that they’re too busy. Probably the best thing to do is be honest with them and say, Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to read anything. I know you don’t really want to. And that you’re afraid it will be terrible but I won’t be aware of that fact. And you won’t know how to tell me that it’s terrible. And you don’t want to hurt my feelings. So you’re going to play it down the middle by agreeing to read it but then pretending to be too busy to ever actually read it. Which makes sense; I’ve done the same thing. I’ve said no millions of times. There have been times when I didn’t, when I pretended to be interested or whatever.
If someone asks you to read something, here’s what you say: Um, no. Sorry, but I can’t. I am too busy with my own work. I’m in the middle of a project and all my focus is going into that. And when I’m working on a project, I barely read. I usually read one book at a time and it is pretty much always related to my project in some way. So if I’m writing a story about, oh, gee, I dunno, a guy who gets quote unquote abducted and taken up to the the mother ship – the motherfuckin mothership; and what a ship it is, ladies and gentlemen – and that guy is then told to be the host of a nightly show in a big alien night club stroke dinner theater that’s classy and it knows it, then, no, I do not want to read your heist story. It’s too different. I can’t read that now.
Plus, think about who you’re going to ask; if you’re a person who creates art. If you work in a particular medium or genre of a medium, find people who are also fans of that medium or genre to show it to. Don’t show it to your friends. You’re creating sexy psychedelic space rock to get high and to hump to for five hours and you’re going to go to your friend who is a super-straight-laced, sweet but innocent and kinda square friend who’s a real estate agent and be all like, Hey, check out my weird sexy psychedelic space rock.
And they’ll be all like, Uh, is that some stoner crap? Weed is stupid, okay. And so is anyone who smokes it.
And then they look RIGHT at you, just daring you to refute their statement or to make any sort of rebuttal.
And what’s the right move there? They just proved that if anyone needs to get high, listen to some trippy music, and get wildly humped so they can have multiple, repeat MULTIPLE, orgasms so they can hopefully chill the heck out, it’s them.
But do you really want to have that conversation with them?
It probably won’t go well. The people who are the most averse and thus need it the most are also the most entrenched in their fixed view of the world and their strategy for dealing with and navigating through it. And getting them to open up and at least TRY it can be very difficult.
It’s probably best to Trojan Horse them.
Blessed is he who shepherds the weak through the Valley of Darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost Jacksons.
Did you guys know a lot of slaves were given last names of Washington or Jackson or Smith or whatever because they didn’t have last names where they came from or the assholes who took them and made them into slaves just decided to give them that name.
That’s pretty fucked.
That’s like, heartbreakingly fucked.
Sorry, I just heard those words in my head and decided to repeat them and for some reason, the word at the very end that was supposed to be Children came out as Jacksons.
SV: It happens.
Indeed it does. I was going to say something about inviting that uptight real estate agent friend to your palace, your place, your abode, and help them unwind. Offer them some snacks and a glass of wine. And just chill. Don’t thrust the evil, scary weed at them the second they get in the door. They’re going to think you’re up to something. Which you are.
But maybe give it an hour or two, depending on how much time you have. And maybe don’t even do it the first time they come over. Have them over a few times and when they show up and you guys begin the festivities, say something about enjoying some herb. And ask them, straight up, if that would be okay with them, if they would be comfortable with that.
If they say yes, game on.
If they say no or balk or act squirmy or make a face, it means No. It means they aren’t comfortable with it and don’t know how to tell you. Especially because they’ve been enjoying these get-togethers. They’ve really needed them. They may have even said those words at some point. Which means your plan is working. It simply requires patience on your part. Remember, if you are too pushy with your evil, dirty, gateway drug weed, they’re going to not only bail on you and never come back, they will stop talking to you. They will conclude that you are essentially a drug addict. And that they want nothing to do with you. They don’t want to end up being one of those methed-out people with no teeth whose before and after mugshots become a meme plastered all over the internet. And being friends with you is basically handing you the camera so you can be the documentary photographer who is going to document that process of their complete and total self destruction.
So if you see them at Target and they look away really fast and act like they didn’t see you, bail. Dip down the nearest aisle and then either leave or avoid them while you finish your shopping. They don’t want to deal with you. So don’t make them. You tried but it didn’t go well.
Maybe at some point in the future, they’ll change their mind. It may take some time. And maybe they’ll call you up out of the blue or text you or whatever and ask if you have any good wine.
And you’ll be all like, Yes.
While you’re thinking, Um, why?
And they’ll text back, Do you want to get together for a glass? I can come over tonight.
And you’ll be like, Holy crap, they want to come back over.
And immediately you’re envisioning them sticking their lips in your massive bong and ripping the shit out of that thing.
But you decide to be cautious so you’re like, Okay. 6ish?
And they text back smiley face wearing sunglasses.
Which is hilarious because to you that means stoner glasses.
And then when they come over, play it by ear. If you guys sit down and have the wine but they’re not really drinking it, they’re just kind of holding it, and they’re not really eating any of the canopes or assorted crudite amouse-bouches you put out, and they’re kind of fidgety and looking all around, you know why.
But wait for them to say it. It might take 15 to 20 minutes.
But eventually, eventually, they’ll be all like, real casual, too, How much weed do you have?
And you’ll be all like, Mm, a little.
Like an 8th?
And no matter how much you have, say, Uh, less.
Because that makes it sound like it’s recreational. Even if you do a wake-n-bake every morning and you hotbox your bathroom because that’s the only room with an exhaust fan, and they’ve never seen you NOT baked, pretend like you don’t do it that often.
Because they know an 8th is a reasonable amount to buy and have at home for occasional use.
And their next question might be, How often do you smoke?
And you should take a deep breath and raise your eyebrows and look pensively up at nothing and say, Honestly, not that often. I always have too much stuff to do and it’s hard to find a time to relax long enough to be able to enjoy it.
And then shut up.
Stop talking. Take a bite of food and let that statement worm around in their earholes. Let them process it for a moment.
Let them take it in.
Because it makes you seem like a reasonable person. Not a complete and utterly pathetic stoner.
It makes you seem…like them.
A normal person who’s working hard and is equally busy. And thus deserves to unwind every now and then. And there’s nothing wrong with a little red wine or a couple of beers or a Cosmo or a Midori Sour or whatever.
Or some weed.
Do you wanna smoke some?
That will be the next thing spoken in that room. Probably while you’re still chewing and pretending to pick lint off your shirt or you’re cleaning up some crumbs you dropped on the sofa, thereby giving the mostly but not entirely subconscious cue that you are tidy and clean and not a stoner and a loser and a person they should stay away from.
Do you wanna smoke?
That’s what they’ll say.
And this is the critical moment you’ve been waiting for. It’s taken like…4 weeks. Including an awkward encounter at Tarjay. And several bottles of wine. Because this so-called real estate agent can seriously DRINK.
Two glasses of wine is nothing to them.
Two glasses of wine gets you pretty much hammered. Definitely buzzed and feeling good. To the point where you know you need to slow down or stop drinking because if you don’t, you’ll end up feeling sick and maybe even getting a headache or, God stroke Gawd forbid, throwing up.
And you do NOT want to throw up. So you are cautious with your alcohol consumption.
But you saw this person drink 3.5 glasses, seem totally fine an hour later, and then drive home. Perfectly fine. Legally sober. That means they have a tolerance.
It also means they’re full of shit pretending to be all offended by you and your weed. They’ve probably partied a lot of times but they didn’t know you that well and didn’t want to act like they secretly love weed and that they haven’t smoked in a long time but that they’ve been thinking about it and would like to try some.
So when they say, Do you wanna smoke some?
Your response must be measured. It must be open and positive. It must be nonjudgmental. It must also be not TOO excited. Because if you’re TOO excited, it’s going to look like you’ve been secretly waiting to get high, which will confirm the previous suspicions: that you are a stoner and a loser and you probably have stoner, loser friends, any of whom could knock on the door at any given moment and come in with bags of meth or crack or, holy fuck, heroin. NEEDLES. And you will be all sitting around cooking shit in spoons and tying off with those rubber hoses and shooting up and it will be a full-on drug lab. The kind where if the cops come, EVERYBODY gets arrested and charged with multiple felonies.
And THAT would RUIN their life.
So they’re not going to do that. And whatever trepidation you witness in them is a result of that fear.
Which is why you have to be cool. Casual. And you should say, in a slightly higher voice, Sure, if you want to.
And they’ll be all like, Oh, you don’t want to?
And this is good, because you guys are building rapport and establishing trust.
So you should say, No, we can. I was kind of thinking about doing it tonight, anyway, because things have been crazy. So I’m actually in the mood for some. Not too much, because I have to work tomorrow. You know? It’s not Friday night. Yet.
And they’ll be all like, Totally.
And you guys’ll laugh.
And boom, you got em.
They’re in.
You guys can get really baked and it shouldn't be uncomfortable.
But you do still need to assess their tolerance. You do NOT want them to have a bad trip in YOUR house. Because then YOU have to deal with it.
So pay attention to their behavior and what they say. If they ask buttloads of questions, that means they’re nervous and this almost certainly is new to them.
So now you have an opportunity to teach them all the things you wish someone would’ve taught you.
And the key is to have fun and be patient with them.
Do NOT get pissed at them, no matter what.
Do not snap or freak out, even if they spill all the weed on the carpet. Rookie mistake. People get all thumbs when they’re nervous.
Point being, start them out with a small hit. A very small hit. And make them wait 15 minutes before having more. And go from there.
But if they watch you roll a joint or pack a bowl or whatever and you offer it to them and say, Cherry hit?
And they grab it and hit the shit out of it, it means they’re not as square as you thought they were. And now you have someone to party with.
Reading is similar but it’s really more one on one and it’s a different experience. Not exactly more meaningful. Because there’s plenty of movies that are extremely meaningful and impactful.
So.
Aliens versus humans. Like a Battle of the Network Stars.
Do you guys want to do that?
What?
Oh.
Really?
Okay. Uh, I stand corrected. I am standing and I am corrected on my erroneous assumption. Apologies.
Um, for anyone who didn’t hear that, when I said do you guys want to do a Battle of the Network Stars: Aliens Versus Humans Edition, someone way back there who I can’t even see shouted, We’ve been doing that a hundred years, asswipe!
They actually called me asswipe.
Who’s got some really good psychedelic alien space rock?
I’ll tell you who: the Hot Fudge Sundaes, that’s who! SBV, hit it. Regale us with your magic if you don’t mind.
SBV: No, I do not mind whatsoever. It would be my pleasure. Because I too love good psychedelic space rock. To that end, no, to that beginning, prepare your earholes my friends. Comin at ya now, it’s The Hot Fudge Sundaes and they’re fittin to bring the roof down with this one. It’s called Some Really Good Psychedelic Alien Space Rock. And NO, that does not mean crack. Fellas, take it away.
{musical interlude}
By the way, do you guys like hearing human Earthling languages or music or whatever in your alien space rock? Because I’m not sure I do. I came from there so I don’t really want to be reminded of it. I’m more interested in what you guys have going on up here and wherever it is that you came from before you arrived here.
I guess I like my Alien Space Rock to be as alien as possible. Something I’ve never heard before. How hard is it to invent a new sound?
Here’s a question for you guys: Is the Universe expanding?
Because everyone on Earth thought it was for a long time. And then they sent bigger, better telescopes and cameras up into space so they could see better. And they realized a lot of the previous theory was wrong. A great deal of Earthling science got relegated back to hypothesis status.
A theory is something that has been proven.
A hypothesis is something that is still unknown and has yet to be proven accurate or correct or true.
Which is why I typically don’t say theoretically speaking. I usually say hypothetically speaking.
I still don’t know if we’re going somewhere, by the way. Or is this an interstellar relaxation cruise?
I don’t know why I’m here.
I mean, I know WHY I’m here. I know HOW I got here. But I really don’t know why I’m here. How did I get here? Like I said, I know how I got here: the man with the red skin and white hair came down and got me while I was at my dad’s house. He appeared on our TV and said for me to come outside so I went outside and he was there in a friggin UFO flying machine and the elevator phone booth thing came down and I got in it and went up into his ship and I sat down in a chair and we came up here. And he didn’t say much during the trip. And he answered most of my questions with, You’ll see.
I was like, Who are you?
And he was all, You’ll see.
And I was like, Where are we going?
And he was all, You’ll see.
And I said, Why did you pick me?
See? Even then, right at the beginning, I was like, Why me?
And he was all, say it with me now, You’ll see.
And so far I’m still waiting to see. Meaning that I don’t yet know why me nor do I know why I’m here. I hope this isn’t some intergalactic Hansel and Gretel. Me being Hansel. Gretel, Gretel, where for art thou, Gretel?
Oh! I just remembered something else: the Rainshower Symphony was playing the bongos today. And Skeleton Patriot said to say hello.
Anyway, welcome to the show. The big turkey day show. A day on which Americans eat a shitload of turkey. And it’s all good fun as long as you don’t actually ask about how your family members are doing or why you’re eating turkey.
Just shut up, smile, eat, smile, eat some more, keep smiling, and then get the heck out of there. Just be on your good behavior. It’s one day. Half a day. A few hours. You can do it. Don’t start anything. If anything gets started, laugh it off and direct the conversation elsewhere. And if someone in the family insists on fighting and simply will not shut up, invite them to speak privately with the other party or parties involved privately on another day. But not today. Today is a holiday. A time to be thankful. Not a time to fight and argue and start shit. And if you can’t do that, smoke some weed and chill out so you can.
And if you simply can’t, if you simply cannot be in the same room with your family without arguing with them, get some therapy. Because you can’t control them, you can only control you. You and your actions and your reactions. And the sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be. You can’t do anything about the traffic you’re stuck in at rush hour, right? Look at your family the same way. Not sure what’s causing the problem, you may never know, but it’s best not to worry about it because it doesn’t involve you. Say a quick prayer for them, wish them well, resolve to be positive in your own mind and in your own life, and move on. That’s about all you can do.
Turkey Day.
Do you and your family always eat turkey on turkey day? Mine always did. But on Christmas we’d sometimes eat something different. Maybe steak and lobster. And a honeybaked ham. Reese’s pig movie notwithstanding. It’s mostly the sweet, crunchy stuff on the outside of the ham that makes it so good.
I hear there’s a new Superman movie in the works. Supposed to be out in a couple years. I had trouble getting into the last round. I guess Christopher Reeve will always be my Superman. Just like Roger Moore will always be my James Bond.
They’re gonna reboot 007, by the way. Daniel Craig has wrapped up his tenure. So there are talks. Who will be the new Bond? Will it be a woman? Will it be a Black guy? Will it be a Black woman? Personally, I think it should remain at least somewhat close to the source material, the novels by British Writer Ian Fleming. I’d love to see Idris Elba play Bond. He’s a bad-ass. I would dig that. I don’t think it matters if Bond is Black or White or whatever.
If they do decide to make 007 a female, I don’t think it’ll work. It could; but I think people generally for the most part want 007 to be 007.
If, however, you cast the right woman and made the movie bad-ass enough, it could work.
But who?
An Englishwoman?
An Irishwoman?
A Welshwoman?
A Scottswoman?
Or an American woman with a fake accent? Henry Cavill played Superman and did a fake American accent and it was fine.
They say they want the actor to be in his thirties. Idris Elba was born in 1972 so he’s fiftyish depending upon when you’re seeing, hearing, or reading this.
I wouldn’t mind seeing Tom Hardy do it. He’s certainly bad-ass enough. And he’s definitely English and wouldn’t haff to fake the accent.
The character of Bond in the novels is cultured and well dressed. But then able to be a cold-blooded killer when necessary. Rather than being a jiu jitsu-trained CrossFitting Parkouring bodybuilder monkey boy. Who may or may not seem out of place in a suit, a tuxedo, a fancy party, and or on a yacht.
What if they set it in the sixties? Made it a period piece? That could be interesting. Nostalgia is all the rage. It could be the prequel to Sean Connery. The 007 Origin Story.
What about Cillian Murphy? Peaky Blinders just wrapped up. One of the greatest shows of all time. In large part because of him, obviously. But everyone in that show was stellar. As stars ought to be.
Could you see him as Bond?
Part of the problem is that the actor who takes the role is expected to be available for about ten years. Four or five films. So it’s tough. Do you commit to Bond or do you roll the dice?
Or does the new Bond need to be a late-twenties hacker type able to connect to the youth? In order to make money and keep the series alive for a new generation?
I heard recently that Amazon tried to spearhead a Bond reboot with a lady Bond. And the Bond people said no.
Mauna Loa is ready to pop. I hope it doesn’t. Volcanoes are scary.
How’s your crypto? Still have laser eyes on your profile? Still got a moon bag? Still hodling?
It’s Turkey Day back on Earth and people back on Earth have many demands on their time. Football games to watch. Delicious food to eat. So I won’t bore us with the history of Thanksgiving Day. Everyone knows it. I will say, however, for anyone inclined to White Guilt, when you’re eating your turkey and have that big hunk of delicious juicy white meat on your plate, pour gravy all over it and pretend that salty brown goodness is all the people of color saying eff you. And the gravy will help wash down the dry white meat.
Or not.
Besides, from what I’ve read, most of the indigenous people of what is present day America, or The United States for anyone who is offended by Amerigo Vespucci’s namesake three-part land mass, but from what I’ve read and gathered here and there, most of the Indians were wiped out by a plague brought to them by sea lions who swam up from South America after eating infected fish. And this bacterium got into the population and killed a lot of people. So by the time the big bad evil White genociding colonizers showed up, hardly anyone was left. Everyone jokes about blankets infected with syphilis but no one ever mentions sea lions infected with fish death.
That’s not to say that a lot of bad shit didn’t happen. It obviously did. But it happened on both sides and to both parties. A lot of the natives were savage, violent, ruthless people who murdered their own people a lot. And they did the same to the Europeans. So yeah the European settlers were prone to violence, too. It was a complex situation that unfolded over decades, too. So it’s not like the evil White people showed up and unalived everyone and started building condos and froyo a week later.
Again, that’s not to excuse anything. But it is to say that from an accurate, historical, unbiased perspective, it was messy all around and a lot of bad shit happened. Just like it always has throughout history. Migration and expansion and the building of empires has always been a mixed bag.
But a lot of them got along great. It’s how we got Turkey Day.
Anyway. enough of that. But you might take a gander at Guns, Germs, & Steel in between bites of Tofurky if you’ve never read it. And then tell me what it’s about because I’ve never read it, either. It’s been on my tee bee arr for about ten years.
For those of you on Earth, do you accentuate your holiday with the annual beloved tradition of Twenty-Four Hours of Ralphie? How and when and why a Christmas movie became associated with Thanksgiving Day, I don’t recall.
Or there’s always Die Hard, which may or may not be a Christmas movie depending on your preference.
Can anyone confirm making fists with your toes on the carpet is an effective anti-memetic? Meaning it will help combat nausea? I think I tried it once but I don’t remember if it worked or if it helped. Probably not. Sleep is usually the best medicine in that situation in my experience.
Note also who plays Hans Gruber in Die Hard. It’s Alan Rickman. Ay kay ay Severus Snape. Professor Snape, Harry. May he rest in peace.
Gremlins is another one I like. A non-Christmasy movie that is a Christmas movie because it takes place during Christmastime. The story Phoebe Cates tells about her father is nuts. Who knew the girl climbing out of the swimming pool in Fast Times could do that? And let us not forget the amazing young Corey Feldman. Gremlins, Friday the 13th, The Goonies, Stand By Me, The Lost Boys, License to Drive, The Burbs….
You’ll no doubt recall that Corey Feldman starred in The Lost Boys and License to Drive with his then-best friend Corey Haim, who, sadly, battled addiction and pills and had a rough go of it and ultimately passed away in 2010 from pneumonia.
But did he?
I recall him passing away of an accidental overdose when he was quite young. We were all shocked and saddened by it at the time. It was 1989ish.
But apparently not.
Is this some sort of Mandela Effect?
Weird.
By the way, apparently the Mandela Effect is also the Retcon Effect, or Real-Life Retroactive Continuity.
I’ve never heard it called that. Is it another Mandela Effect? The Mandela Effect is a Mandela Effect? Or the Retcon Effect is the Mandela Effect?
I swear the number of ells in Mandela is also a Mandela Effect. One el or two? I say two. But apparently it’s only one.
But returning to Christmas movies, It’s a Wonderful Life is often cited as the most popular or beloved. I’ve never seen it.
But Lethal Weapon is, for me, anyway, also a Christmas movie. And the stop-motion short films from the Sixties like Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, and the cartoon version of Frosty the Snowman.
Perhaps Elf is another beloved Christmas movie. Depending upon your age. Will Twenty-four Hours of Buddy one day be a thing? No more Ralphie and his Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range-Model Air Rifle, with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time. I had one of those when I was eight. My dad got it for me. For Christmas. I wasn’t strong enough to cock it so I had to wedge the stock under my thigh and lift up on the lever to cock it. But having one always sort of made Ralphie my spirit brother. I remember going to see A Christmas Story in the theater one evening. I think I got a nosebleed halfway through it. I used to get nosebleeds all the time. Randomly. One evening it happened at home and I was out back playing or whatever and didn’t know what to do so I just stood there in the grass and let my nose drip blood. I eventually got light-headed and thought I was going to bleed to death. So I pinched my nostrils shut and ran inside and got some tissues and stopped the blood and sat down with my head back. Which is great because then all the blood runs down the back of your throat so you taste it and choke on it while you’re waiting for it to clot.
Sometimes I’d wake up in the morning and there’d be dried blood on my pillow. I always found that gross and a little scary.
I used to get ear infections a lot, too. I wonder if they were related. Maybe it was from the alien implants. Which might explain how I got here and why I’m here. Or is it like that Twilight Zone episode where the astronauts from Earth crash land on another planet and are put into a house similar to that on Earth. But then they realize the doors won’t open and they can’t get out. And then the curtains open and there are a bunch of aliens standing outside, looking in at them through the window. Watching them. And it’s a zoo. And they’re the exhibit.
What would you do if you were a specimen in a zoological exhibit? Make the best of it and be thankful that you don’t have to commute to your shit job anymore? Or would you Million Dollar Baby yourself?
And if you did, would the alien zoo owners come in and find you dead, asphyxiated on your own blood, and be all like, Dammit, not again!
Sabotaging and kidnapping and imprisoning human astronauts has gotta be fairly involved.
What if that’s what Mars turns out to be?
Will the light of human consciousness still be preserved if it’s in a zoo?
Will a Martian Matt Damon come along and buy the zoo and make a movie about it after the Martians get bored and it stops being profitable?
If Matt Damon from the Martian book and movie grows potatoes and thus, according to Earth law, owns it, owns Mars, the whole thing, will the Martians come along and say, Uh, not so fast!
And then Matt Damon will say, No, it’s fine, we’re friendly. Here: Have a blanket. Yeah, there you go, rub it on your face, smell it, sleep in it, yeah, there you go, see how soft that is?
And then a couple hundred years later we have Martian Thanksgiving!
That’s our show!
Thank you!
Enjoy your holiday! Unless to you, it’s merely another Thursday. As it was to Rocky when he went to Paulie and Adrienne’s house.
Goodnight!
Remember to tip your waitress!
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