Somewhere Out There…

…aliens are laughing their little green buttocks off. This is not to say that their buttocks couldn’t be magenta, or chartreuse or some color we couldn’t wrap our tiny minds around, that is to say, if they even had buttocks at all. The sole reason they are rolling around in their spaceships, snortaling, pointing at their vidscreens, giving each other high fives, or high ones or high claw thingies, is because they will inherit a planet devoid of humans, but full of resources, in the time it takes for them to return home, report their findings, gather an armada of their own colonist and return.
I say that these species of whatevers are counting on the fact that the Earth, formerly know as Human land, will eventually reach its maximum viral load of human bipeds and eventually start anti-biped therapy (earthquakes, hurricanes, and drought). This therapy will be enhanced by the human bipeds accidentally creating drug resistant diseases as a direct result of their own medial mismanagement, in addition to their insatiable thirst for warfare.
I say that these highly intelligent beings know that if the planetary atmosphere is poisoned long enough those living beneath the atmosphere will perish. They know that the Being that advocates peace, love and harmony…does not need five dollars in a collection plate on Sunday nor does the Being command guided cruise missiles to strike their infidel/terrorist targets with extreme prejudice. They know that two male species of plants, side by side will eventually die without spawning another of its kind. They know that warehouses for dangerous bipeds are the result of poor leadership during the instructional phase of life. They know that population control is not only for the poorest of the human biped species but is essential to maintain the homeostasis of the planet. So somewhere in the vastness of space are these creatures who are throwing confetti, popping balloons and taking bets on how many cars will it take to fill the Grand Canyon.


~Vale~