Some people think there is something special about numbers. Take the number ten for example. Thousands of years ago the Mayans supposedly predicted the world would end in 2012. But just so we would not be completely caught off guard when the world suddenly ends, they apparently also wrote some prophecies possibly using llama dung (that shit lasts forever) telling us that 10.10.10 would be, yes, just another day the earth continued its orbit around the sun, but also a special day when we’d all say to each other: Fuck! The world is going to end in 2012. If we don’t get right with God / pass a bill banning crocs / invent another calendar that somehow fast-tracks the world to a date after 2012 thereby fooling the universe and letting us off the hook for another 100 years, we’re all fucked.
The world somehow keeps on turning despite all the morons that live on it. Probably long after 2012. And morons keep on coming up with batshit ideas to understand why it does and when it may stop or who the fuck invented crocs. And just in case all those Mayan prophecies and mystical numbers and pyramids in the desert are actually the diabolical work of aliens, the UN has appointed an alien ambassador — or more specifically, space ambassador for extraterrestrial contact affairs. I llama-shit you not. It’s all hush-hush and no it’s not Will Smith. I’m as shocked as the rest of you. Our point person if the little green men from outer space visit us is Malayasian astrophysicist Mazlan Othman. It’s not a dude. It’s a woman. I think that’s a very clever move by the UN. Men only fuck things up. We’d either want to fight those little green fuckers with all the nuclear arsenal at our disposal and lose anyway because they have lasers or if they turn out to be gorgeous green women with perky tits, we’ll just want lap dances and stop worrying about 2012. We all lose again in that scenario, although we die with hard-ons.
Why the hell do we need an alien ambassador? According to this Othman chick, “someday humankind will receive signals from extraterrestrials. When we do, we should have in place a coordinated response that takes into account all the sensitivities related to the subject.” Exactly. Like whether it’s star wars or lap dances we should expect. Fuck me, is this woman wandering around the UN building with her cellphone fully charged hoping the aliens will give her a missed call just before they land in the parking lot? For all we know aliens would be far more interested in conversing with insects. After all, creepy crawlies rule the planet if we’re talking about sheer numbers here.
Fellow morons, eat, drink and by merry for tomorrow we may be visited by aliens.
PS Thanks to my good friends the barefoot Mountain Man and his lovely veggie-eating partner Madam Marketing for the heads up about the alien welcoming committee. I would have been pissed if I woke up to find green people in my garden and didn’t know who to call.
PPS Let’s do this again next year on 11 November.