Alien Night Club - Show 28?

Alien Night club <the transcripts>

Ryan Schneider

Mar 08, 2025

If you’re just discovering this (Hi!), begin with The Pilot HERE.

New episodes every Saturday morning @ 9:09 a.m. EST. Yay!

Show 28! Good evening and hello. Is it Show 28? Last night was Show 27 – allegedly – so tonight is Show 28. Allegedly.

So.

How bout that cliffhanger?

Huh?

Holy shit.

Holy sheeeeeit.

I don’t think I’ve ever been hit with a cliffhanger like that before.

OMG. IYKYK. If you know, you know. A-B-C-X-Y-Z. Easy as 1 2 3 doe ray me get on up inside me as far as can be.

Or something.

Whatever. Relax. It’s not about that.

Okay, so what’s it about?

Eggs. Whose eggs do you like more: mine or his?

I like both eggs equally.

Oh come on! No one likes both kinds of eggs equally. You like one or the other and I wanna know which.

What difference does it make? Your eggs aren’t here any more. You took your eggs and you left! Did you really think I’d never find new eggs?

I can see you haven’t learned your lesson. From 60 seconds ago. Hopefully, the elevator simply hasn’t gotten there yet. But it’s on its way to the top. And soon all will be right with the world. For that person.

Anywho, and let us not forget yesindeedeeoh, how are you?

Frantic, probably. A little. A smidge. Justifiably. I feel the same way. I REALLY wanted to see that. Maybe one day we will. And that was the world’s ultimate trailer. A Julia Roberts Film. A Film by Julia Roberts. Whichever. Both are good. A Julia Roberts Production. Of a Julia Roberts Film. Written and directed by Julia Roberts.

So, welcome, welcome, welcome. Seems like I haven’t seen you guys in forever. What’s that about?

Welcome to the Alien Night Club. I am your nonadjectival host Captain Blank. Welcome and all aboard the sodomy meat train. Seems like I haven’t said that in a while, either. So many buttons, must…not…push….

Anyway….

Welcome to the Alien Night Club. If it’s your first time here, welcome. We’re thrilled and humbled to have you. If you’ve been here before, we’re thrilled and humbled that you chose to return.

Anyway, shall we get to show notes?

Don’t have any.

Do you guys think the Eye of Horace looks like the pineal gland?

Would you rather be rich and famous or just rich?

I think I’d choose rich.

I think I’m more afraid of what I’d lose than I am excited about what I’d gain.

Things like anonymity.

Perspective.

Truth.

When you don’t know what’s True, you’re, uh, pardon my French but you’re fucked.

When you don’t know what’s Right, you’re fucked. Right with what, Sammy?

SV: A capital motherfuckin R.

That’s right. Thank you, my friend.

So don’t get high on your own supply. I think that goes beyond not putting your face in a pile of coke when you make your living dealing coke. I think it means don’t believe your own press. Don’t buy in to your own hype. You are a person just like everybody else. And whatever it is you’re great at, there’s someone out there who is better at it than you are or will ever be. And everyone around you is great at something you suck at. Remember that.

Accepting gratitude is part of the job. Sharing time is part of the job.

Have you heard about the Beastie Boys doing an autoerotic doc in which they eat whatever people give them to eat? It’s called I’m Gonna Eat What You Give Me. It’s like Anthony Bourdain meets You’ve Gotta Fight For Your Right To Party. And to not capitalize everything.

Also, listen to the following blurb for a new show and tell me if you would be interested in watching it: Fur flies after the owner of a struggling cat cafe meets her match when an annoying hunk opens a competing cat cafe across the street. Will her business survive? Will they be the purrfect match? Can she claw her way out of bankruptcy? Is it a scratch made in heaven? You’ll haff to watch to find out.

Eh?

It actually sounds really good to me. I have seen cat cafes in Japan. On YouTube. I haven’t actually been to Japan yet. I would love to visit, though. And I love cats so I’d love to visit a cat cafe. And I haven’t seen a story like that before.

So how are you guys? What’s new? Everything here is fine. Pretty much. For the most part. I’m still tripping balls half the time because I’m here. I hope all is well back on Earth. That good things are happening. That perhaps my abduction galvanized everyone to come together as one species in order to prepare for the assimilation into the Galactic Federation.

There’s that word again. Get ready. Unless you already are, in which case good for you.

Or – and this is perhaps, sadly, equally likely – the people of Earth did not coalesce via a newfound sense of Humanity in the face of concrete evidence that we – they, Earthling humans – are in fact NOT alone in the Universe. And not only did they not coalesce, they fragmented still further. Because some groups said, Hey, let’s start sending out messages of peace and let’s all get together and pool like 25% of global GDP into building a proper spaceship. It’ll be awesome!

And other groups were like, No fuck that! We haff to arm up. We haff to pool 50% of global GDP into an orbital defense grid of satellites with lasers and hypersonic missiles and long-range detection systems, and maybe even a giant force field no one can get through unless we say it’s okay. That’s what we need!

And so the first group went off to build their thing and the 2nd group went off to build their thing and neither of them got the money they needed to realize their vision – wise or foolhardy as it may be – because that would’ve been 75% of GDP. Thus, each group is working with a pittance of what is needed. Consequently, they’re forever soliciting others to kick in money. And each side has an army of cold calling business development and sales reps. It’s the greatest sales floor in the history of mankind. There are thousands of them worldwide, full of people sitting in a cubicle making phone calls and video calls and emailing and texting and whatever else, trying to get people to donate money. Trying to get companies to buy in with a billion here, a billion there.

Which side will win?

I guess we’ll haff to wait and see.

What if they’re both right?

What if the explorer group builds their ship and sends a delegation out in it? And they find some cool aliens and everyone becomes friends?

That would be amazing.

And then what if right after they left, like the next day, an armada of asshole aliens shows up and calls Earth and is like, Sup, fuckers? We’re taking whatever we want. And if you try to stop us, we will kill you. You are like mosquitoes to us. So stay out of our way.

And then it’s like Independence Day, Battle Los Angeles, Men In Black, you get the idea. There are aliens everywhere. Like M. Night Shyamalan aliens in the corn in the Mel Gibson movie. Signs.

An Armada of Asshole Aliens.

That sounds like a song title.

The lyrics write themselves. Real jazzy with a lot of cymbals. And you have to sort of squint and make a funny, disgusted face when you sing it.

An armada of asshole aliens.

SB, I think we need to hear the real thing. From someone who can actually sing.

SB: I think you’re right, Captain. Ladies and gentlemen… Ladies… and gentlemen… Friends around the system, around the whole Universe, prepare your earholes. And I do mean prepare. Comin at ya now with their new hit song, and this one is straight-up nasty – I can feel it – please, put your hands together – or send out good thoughts – for everyone’s sweetest band, The Hot Fudge Sundaes as they inseminate us with the reproductive goo of an armada of asshole aliens by singing their new hit song titled An Armada of Asshole Aliens.

{musical interlude}

Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Oh. Yeah. Earholes inseminated. I can hear them swimming around in there. Oh yeah. It sounds like when you go through the cave and get to see the Abominable Snowman on The Matterhorn ride at Disneyland. Is that ride fixed yet? Last time I rode it, it sucked. It was so herky jerky that it was unrideable. I later read that the reason is because they are forever upgrading the ride vehicles. But it’s easier to upgrade them than it is to upgrade the track. Upgrading the track is obviously a lot more involved. It is therefore more expensive. It therefore happens far less often. With the result being ride vehicles that are I guess too big and heavy for the current track? And thus the ride feels like shit? Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Maybe it’s always been that way and I just don’t remember. And it’s only now with the advent of kick-ass modern roller coasters that have cutting-edge ride vehicles and tracks for them to ride on and they glide and feel smooth and amazing. Only now do we have the ability to see the contrast between a ride like the Matterhorn that was built in 1959 and modern coasters of today.

If some of the representatives of the armada of asshole aliens came down and were looking for something to do and some humans were all like, Hey, guys. Um, hi. Please don’t kill us. Um, we just wanted to maybe make a suggestion for something fun to do, which is to go to Disneyland. A lot of us like it there. So maybe go check it out and hopefully you’ll like it.

And the aliens go there and they ride the Matterhorn. Would they like it? Or would they hate it? If they’ve never ridden a roller coaster before, they’d probably love it. Like I did the first time I rode it. Unless they’re scared of roller coasters, now that they’ve seen one and know what it is, in which case they’d hate it or would be unwilling to even ride it. Imagine if they were indeed afraid to ride it. Would we view them differently? These all-powerful semi-mythical beings who can break into our homes in the middle of the night and take us from our beds in order to perform twisted experiments on us aboard their ship. Against our will. Thereby breaking a whole fuggload of our laws, violating our personal sovereignty. Yet they’re too chickenshit to ride a little baby coaster like The Matterhorn?

Would the aliens haff to wait in line?

Would Disney clear out the park so the aliens were the only ones in there?

What if the aliens visited unannounced? They just showed up in the middle of the park? Didn’t go through the Ticketing and Transportation Center or anything. Didn’t go through Security. Didn’t even pay admission. They’re now in the park illegally. Which means they should be busted by security, taken to the office where they take people to give them a bounce notice – I forget what it’s called – and then banned from the park for a period of not less than X number of years. If not for life.

But what if they decide to just let the aliens enjoy the park, lest they start killing people? And they walk up to a ride. Would any of the humans in line tell them to get in line? To go to the BACK of the line?

You know how people can be when they’re standing in a line for 2 or 3 or 4 hours in order to ride a ride that lasts only a few minutes. Or maybe 10 to 15 at the most, like Small World. That’s a lot of waiting. People get cranky. What if one guy is there with his wife and kids and the aliens walk up and cut right in front of him and his family just as they’re about to get on the ride? Like it’s literally their turn. The Cast Member already welcomed them and agreed to let them go stand on the dots for the 1 and 2 lines because they asked to sit in front.

And the alien walks up and tries to push past the kids and the dad puts his hand on the lead alien’s chest and stops him and goes, Hey, get in line.

And the aliens look at him and mutter something in their alien language, probably trying to figure out what the Earthling is saying. It’s pretty obvious what his meaning is. So now they haff to decide how to respond. Murder him real quick, as was threatened? Treat him like humans treat mosquitoes? Or humor him for the sake of adventure, so when they get home they can tell their friends and family or their herd or tribe or collective or planet or whatever that they met this uppity human who got mad because they tried to cut in line. And they were going to kill him but he was there with his offspring and his mate and everybody was there to have quote unquote fun, so they decided to humor him and allow him to think he’d stopped them from cutting in front of him and his family. And then they started waiting in line because it was more interesting to wait in line with the humans than it was to ride the ride. They were able to listen to the humans’ conversations, most of which were about their fear of being murdered by the aliens. And how maybe those angry, militant, xenophobic people building the space weapons system and shield were right. But it’s too late now. And then other humans in line say that the other group was right, the friendly group, and if everyone had cooperated to send out the delegation, they could’ve met these aliens out there and either convinced them not to come down to Earth and start fucking everything up or they could’ve convinced them to go ahead and visit but to do it in a friendly way. And that humans will be friendly as long as you don’t threaten to hurt them or take their stuff. If you simply avoid those 2 things, there won’t be any problems. For the most part.

The question, though, is if those aliens would be willing to submit themselves to the Earthlings’ laws. If the aliens get drunk and steal a car, does the owner of that vehicle get to prosecute? Do those aliens get arrested and put in County? And then let out an hour later until their court date. Which they won’t show up to.

Or what if they accidentally hurt or kill an Earthling human? Then what?

Oops, sorry?

Or do those aliens haff to do hard time? Like, 40 years. Even though they could break out anytime they want to. And even though their fellow aliens could break them out any time they want to. Kind of like when Superman turned himself in and he got quote unquote arrested and they put him in handcuffs and shit. And he went along with it, with two MPs or cops or whatever walking with him and escorting him like a prisoner. Talk about absurd. That’s like a couple of squirrels trying to arrest you and take you to jail.

Squirrels.

I was at war with the squirrels once. It went on for several years. It was frightening. I did not care for it. It was entirely my fault, by the way. I started it. I drew first blood, as they say. What I did was I was driving home and I saw a dead squirrel in the street. Fresh, too. Poor thing. Gray and fluffy with a big poofy tail. Very typical Californian gray squirrel. Anyway, when I got home, I got one of my friends and we walked over to where the squirrel was. When no cars were coming, I ran out into the street and pushed the dead squirrel into the part of the lane where all the vehicle tires go. Because before that it was right on the painted lines in between the lanes. So I pushed it where it would definitely get run over. Again.

And then I ran back to the sidewalk and we stood there and watched. And waited. And a new group of cars and trucks were coming. And sure enough a white pickup truck with 2 guys in it hit the squirrel dead on. Nailed it perfectly.

The crunching sound was unreal.

Loud. And crunchy. The closest thing I’ve ever heard was in Aliens when Ripley is driving that armored transport after the Space Marines’ mission goes to shit, and she is the only one thinking clearly and she manages to get the survivors the fuck out of there. And one of those aliens gets in her way. And she runs it over. And the huge wheel and military combat vehicle tire runs right over the alien, and it makes the most disgusting crunching noise as it screams out in a final death squeal trumpeting noise.

The squirrel crunched just like that. First under the front tire, then again under the back tire.

And we cried out. We were like, Oh!

And the guy in the passenger seat of the truck leans out the window and looks at the ground and then at us and goes, What was it?

And we call out, Squirrel! and they kept on driving. I’m sure they must’ve heard it.

So that was the opening salvo. That little squirrel was Archduke Franz Ferdinand. That little squirrel was Pearl Harbor.

After that day, it was ON.

I didn’t realize it at the time. But the squirrels were mobilizing.

I did feel bad after doing that, by the way. Very much so. It was horrible. I am ashamed of myself for having done that. I don’t know why I did it or what I was thinking. Call it the ignorance of youth. Even though I was in my 20s, I think, when I did it. So it’s not like I was 11.

Point being that the squirrels were on me after that. I had repeated run-ins with squirrels. I even saw a poster for a short film called Terror Squirrel. We call them terrorists. They call themselves Justice. They basically think of themselves as Batman. Sticking it to people who deserve it.

And this went on for years, by the way. They terrorized me for years. Maybe 8 or 10. I began seeing squirrels everywhere. It seemed like any time I was near some trees, there would be a squirrel there, either on the ground or up in the tree, nearby, sitting up and clearly watching me. Doin recon on me. Keeping tabs on my position. Keeping tabs on me. Trying to find a way to chase me out into the street so I could get run over, too. And then they could listen to the sound I would make when a truck ran over me and my skull and ribs and pelvis and legs, and I made a loud wet crunching sound.

This is true, by the way. One day, I was outside sitting at a picnic table and a squirrel was hopping around on the ground near me. I took out a Tiger’s Milk bar and began to unwrap it. The squirrel immediately came over, hopped up on the table, and came over and looked at me. I had taken a bite of the Tiger’s Milk bar but I held it out to the squirrel to see if it wanted a bite. It grabbed the Tiger’s Milk bar, the outside of which was covered in chocolate, by the way, and took it. Its little hands and articulate little clawed fingers grabbed the bar, it leaned down and clamped onto it with its teeth, and it yanked back, and the whole entire bar came out of the wrapper.

It then hopped down off the table, hopped a few feet away, sat up, and ate my Tiger’s Milk bar. Sat there and ate the whole thing right in front of me. That was my only snack, too, which meant I was left with nothing.

Kind of like the mate and babies of the squirrel whose corpse I so egregiously violated. Granted, I didn’t kill the squirrel with my car. What I did was worse. Hitting a squirrel that runs out into the road is an accident. And you haff to be careful because if you swerve and try to avoid it, you may end up squishing it anyway. And you may end up crashing yourself. And you could get hurt or killed. That happens all the time. People swerve to avoid a dog and they hit a tree at 47 miles per hour and die instantly from the force of the impact. Maybe the airbag saves them. Hopefully.

The point is that I desecrated that little squirrel’s fuzzy gray body. I should’ve gotten it out of the road and taken it and buried it nearby so it could rejoin the Earth.

But I didn’t.

I listened to it get run over. Flattened, by the way.

There was another time when a squirrel was clocking me from the undergrowth of bushes as I was walking on a paved path. I heard it. When I stopped, it stopped. When I moved, it moved. And I ultimately decided to walk the long way around to wherever I was going instead of cutting through those bushes the way I always did.

And another day, something similar happened. But then the squirrel jumped out of the bushes and began charging towards me. Running full speed. It was a big, muscular gray squirrel, too. Big black eyes, gleaming in the afternoon sun, with my face reflected in them backwards and upside down, which was what I was soon going to be when it chased me out into the street and I got run over by an electrician driving a dirty white dually with lots of electrical cords in the back, braided up in that special way that only electricians and other contractors or construction experts know how to do.

And as that squirrel charged me, I froze in terror. By this time, I was well aware of what was happening. They had me totally outnumbered. And this one was coming right at me. I stood there and watched it come. I had no idea what I was going to do. It could take a flying leap and land right on my face and start biting me and scratching me and messing me up. What was I going to do? Try to grab it and get it off me? I guess. But it would certainly do some damage in the meantime. And what if that squirrel was a Special Ops squirrel? It was a Delta Force or a Navy SEAL or an Army Ranger squirrel. With special training. And rabies. The squirrels were SO pissed at me that they were perfectly willing to deploy a biological weapon. Because what choice did they have? I was bigger and stronger and for the most part untouchable. The best they could really ever hope for was mild annoyance. Unless they thought bigger. They had to find my weakness. Infecting me with a dangerous and potentially deadly microorganism was a no-brainer. So they aptly, poetically, went with Rabies. Because Rabies attacks your brain. It makes you go crazy. You wind up stumbling around, unable to control your limbs or walk properly, foaming at the mouth, until you keel over and that’s it. Curtains for you.

The squirrels knew this. They couldn’t build IEDs out of cell phones or fly airplanes into me. So they had to go a slightly different route.

At the last second, the squirrel pulled off. It dove through the air, yes, and I thought it was going to land on me and attack me. But it flew sideways and landed on a tree.

So I don’t know if it decided to abort on its own or if the President of the Squirrels was watching somewhere in an operations room and called the mission off, or what. Maybe they decided I had gotten the message. And that going through with the attack would only invite more problems. Because if they went through with it, and that squirrel ripped up my face and neck and hands and scratched me and bit me a bunch of times, I would’ve had to go see a doctor, maybe even go to a nearby hospital right away. And when they heard that a squirrel had done it, there would be immediate talk of rabies. And us humans would launch a counterterrorism, counterwarfare, biological weapons offensive of our own. We would poison the fuck out of all the squirrels in the area of the attack. And the attack would make the news. People all over the state would hear about it. Probably even all over the country. Probably the World. And a new cold war would begin. In some places, it would be a hot war. If enough people got together to discuss their fear of squirrels, they would enact a biowarfare plan of their own. And more squirrels would die. The collateral damage of other species would also be a problem. Rabbits and birds and foxes and other species of squirrels would all go to the other squirrels to complain and say, Look what you guys started! We’re all fucked!

And so El Squirrel Presidente was like, Abort.

And that spec ops squirrel bamf pulled up. He didn’t want to. He hated hearing the Abort signal in his little squirrel earpiece. He HATED it. Almost as much as he hated me. He had heard the gory details of what I had done to his brethren. And he was juicy with lust. Juiced up with so much squirrel rage that he could already taste the intraocular fluid inside my eyeball. Because that was what he was going for. He wasn’t fucking around. His orders were to jump on me, bite my face or neck or arms a minimum of three times, and then get out of there. Run away and head back to base. But he was not planning to obey orders. Not exactly. He was going to jump on me and bite my face 3 or 4 times alright. But he was going to do it all on my eye. He was going to bite right through my eyelid and sink his 2 top and 2 bottom teeth right through my cornea and deep into my eyeball. And he and his buddies had talked privately over beers about how my eyeball would probably make a popping sound when it was ruptured and punctured. And his comms were hot the second he started his attack run. So the sound of my eyeball popping was going to be recorded for all squirreldom to hear and enjoy. The popping of my eyeball would be a day that would live in infamy. All young squirrels would be taught how to do it, and not to recoil if the stuff inside the human’s eyeball squirts out and gets in your mouth. They might infect you with a deadly pathogen of their own. But your sacrifice will not be in vain. The squirrels will never forget.

Eventually, however, I think a cold peace and an eventual truce was called. Squirrel armistice. I didn’t climb up one of their trees and sign a document of surrender. But I did begin feeding them. I began an aggressive feeding campaign, buying large bags of peanuts and putting peanuts out wherever I found squirrels to be living.

And eventually the squirrels came to realize that I had indeed learned my lesson that day. I had been stricken with squirrel fear. And had emerged from the battle a changed man.

Years later, I was up to one bag a week, feeding them almost every day. Delicious peanuts in the shell. The big two-pound bag you buy at Walmart. I kept the bag in my car so that each time I came or went, I could put some peanuts out. And the squirrels quickly learned my schedule. I also began shaking the bag and making kissing noises. And soon the squirrels would run to me, charging toward me across the lush green lawn, across the hot asphalt, not to sink their teeth into my eyeball but into a delicious peanut shell. And the crinkly-crunching sound of squirrels shelling peanuts is a reminder to us all as to how close we came to oblivion, squirrels and humans alike.

So next time you see a squirrel, dig out the bag of peanuts or sunflower seeds. Get that $7 organic chia and pumpkin seed granola bar out of your purse or bag and break a piece off for the squirrel. And make a peace offering. Share what is yours. Demonstrate your belief and faith in sharing and friendship and love. And let not the bones of future generations be crunched under the tires of a white Chevy truck. For we have glimpsed the abyss, dark as the eyes of a squirrel wet with rage, and we have glimpsed ourselves.

Let it be a lesson to us all.

That’s our show!

Thank you for coming, and goodnight!

Remember to tip your waitress!

Next episode: