I don’t know if any of you noticed, but Earth was recently invaded openly by aliens in the form of giant meteorites slamming into the crust of our fair planet. It was blatant, it was in broad daylight and it was only the beginning of what I’m sure will be the zombie/alien apocalypse. I have it on good authority that 99 percent of Congress is already afflicted with paralytic brain malfunctions indicative of the “stupid” gene, and the remaining percent is a wandering herd of confused clones who were once viable human beings. It’s probably the end of the world.
In related news, I’m not getting any invitations to White House functions. They must have my address wrong in the computer.
We don’t see a lot of news when we’re out in the truck. We have a television, but I can’t speak Spanish, so it’s pretty worthless most of the time unless we bite the bullet and get one of those fancy cable thingies.
I learned of the meteorite in a text from my brother, and I quote:
Man, have you seen videos of the meteor in Russia? Holy crap man! That’s some scary stuff! If that happened here, I’m pretty sure I’d have a significant emotional event and then shoot poop into my drawers.
It bears to be noted that my brother is a United States Army veteran who’s done more than one tour in the sand and has seen some horrible stuff. Nothing scares him. The fact that something scared him enough to think about shooting poop into his drawers scared me more than the actual event. I furiously Googled the epic horror.
He was right, it was scary. I concurred with the whole “significant emotional event” thing, although mine would be quiet, because it would entail falling to the ground into the fetal position and covering my nostrils so the aliens couldn’t force BBs into my nose. Hopefully, if I’m ever in the midst of a meteoric shower of alien invaders, my quiet emotional breakdown will be mistaken for being dead and they’ll leave me and my nasal cavities alone. Survival through possum-instinct.
Of course, I blame my father-in-law. He’s only missing dirt from three of the continental states, and when the weather breaks, George will head up North for the final samples requested by the mother ship. The Great Convergence will begin and we’ll all be assimilated into the Borg. If you’re looking for me, I’ll be over here under the catwalk in the fetal position.