I’m ready to act as earth’s interstellar ambassador

I recently read that NASA scientists expect to discover alien life “any day now.” 

Actually, the “life” the NASA scientists were referring to is microbial, at best. 

The breathless “reporter” (and I use that word oh, so loosely) made it sound as if NASA is expecting an invasion of little grey men with big eyes, chilly probes and a fascination with the human backside so unnatural it would make Sir Mix-a-Lot blush.

Frankly, any kind of alien invasion would be cool, in my opinion. 

I’d prefer the sort where benevolent, large-skulled humanoids show up with a cure for cancer and an invitation to join the Galactic Republic. But I’d settle for warty, lizard-men who need to be beaten back with nothing but crude, earth weapons and plucky, you-can’t-keep-us-down human spirit.

Anything to liven it up around here and get Donald Trump’s combover’d mug off my Facebook newsfeed. 

If aliens are planning to stop by, I’d like to be the one to make first contact. There’s nobody else I really trust with the job.

You can’t let the government do it. I’ve seen enough movies to know what happens when you get the feds involved. 

If the alien is friendly, he winds up locked away in a secret government facility, poked and prodded so thoroughly he comes to regret ever having heard the word “probe.”

If the alien is aggressive, the feds harvest his DNA to create a race of human-alien hybrids for use on the battlefield. 

So the feds are out. Likewise, kids are no good for first contact situations. All they want is to make friends with the little bug-eyed monstrosity and help E.T. phone home.

Mainstream media (I’m thinking Fox News) also wouldn’t handle the job well. They’d just try to scare the hell out of viewers by pointing out that technically, E.T. is an “illegal” alien.

Nope. It’s important our interstellar visitor contact me first. So, E.T., if you’re reading this and trying to decide where to land, I suggest my back yard.

I’ll show you where the best pubs are, introduce you to some cool humans who don’t want to harvest your DNA or stick a probe in you, and maybe put on some Aretha Franklin music. 

Hopefully, all that will convince you our two species should cooperate, rather than duke it out in an interplanetary cage fight.

It’s a big universe. There’s plenty of room for both of us.

mtaylor@staffordgroup.com

(616) 548-8273