O'Hare

The UFO timed out at O’Hare at approximately 4.20 PM. There was initial shock as it stopped revolving around itself, and shot out in the clouds, leaving a gaping hole that left the 26 bystanders shocked.

Shocked, as in gasps and screams being sent towards the heaven in general fear of what could actually run from 0 to who the fuck knows in less than .08 seconds.

It was Election Day, and in more unfuckingbelievable news, the Democrats swept the Congress and the Senate to ensure that fuckall continues to be done to stop the evil powers that be.

At the time of the event, I was sitting neatly at my computer punching up the latest poll results, hoping to God that somehow what I was seeing on my monitor was gonna do a goddamn to save this country from itself.

Little did I know that rusty imps, evil Liebermans in , and Hillaries in the wings were making sure that every vote went towards the same party.

Meanwhile, a UFO was causing generalized religious experiences in what would otherwise be an airport with a neon lighting wing straight out of an Ah Ha video.

Imagine buying an Uno’s pizzaette while the biggest degree of human awestruckdumbness was occurring only yards away?

What they hell did they come for? Have they been coming for years? Who can stop them from giving us zero point energy and saving the Earth from ourselves, our Kind of Man?

Do they come in 57 varieties, like the famous Mr. Greer mentions? Do they abduct us in the dead of night and play with our collective genitalia in order to figure out why we spend 90% of our lives pissing or fucking?

Months later, the story breaks and the press distinguish it with jokes about interstellar overlords traveling 70 billion light years to get a good hotdog. Witnesses are purportedly abound in numbers, but hiding their secrets for some mondo change; some slip of paper signed by Rupert Murdoch that will give them riches and fortunes – AKA bigger houses, more donuts, and more drugs.

They’ll blow the money on their vices and end up on a reality show stating that they let the wad go to get away from their abusive father, husband, wife, sister, mother, brother, refrigerator repairman. All the while, they could have chanced a ride to fucking Orion.

On the heels of the reports, you’ll hear about lights in Arkansas explained as angels coming for Mankind. Pat Robertson announces the chances of rainfall occurring in Seattle – IN OUR TIME! George Bush flirts with Iran and Iran flirts with Israel.

Downed UFOs slam into South Africa and Iran. Russian rockets continue to burn up over America and the brightest comet ever comes around with two weeks warning.

I blow a flat and have to ask my Mom for 365 dollars to cover the damages.

Life is not simple. Life is hard. Life is really hard. If Life were an organ, it would be a huge, swollen cock.

Eddie Joe Money continues to buy gasoline, Hotpockets, and crack in America. Wampum Mayan Pookah continues to make ends meat with half a beetle and what fell in the last monsoon. Exxon Mobile Texaco continues to eat children in a not very literal sense.

So, it’s no real surprise when the aliens hang over an airport and decide to leave after only twenty minutes.

“Sorry baby, we gotta go.”

Later, the plot thickens as China sends satellite destroyers out into orbit and puzzles Washington’s mettle with its astute observation that America owes them an entire war deficit and has been selling secrets to their free agents since both Bushes and one Clinton came into the den.

The aliens furrow their brow and ask what’s next.

We somehow manage to answer in unison “Nevermind that, entertain us!”

Grays, greens, and Icke’s reptile people continue to visit and take us on board, if only to ask themselves “I still cannot fucking believe it” when we puzzle over how they have come so far without a superior reality television program.

American idols and top models tread the Earth as if Galileo and Einstein were child molesters and all we can ask for is a Texan with morals who will commit to destroying something at some time, if only we can take our eyes off our bills, children, and penchant for skipping work to own a Nintendo Wii.

The aliens don’t even wonder why, they just wonder what else could have owned such exquisite DNA and not sent supercollider end of fucking anything into the Universe.

Scratching their collective green, gray, and Chewbacca’d brows they send a team of crack nanobots to the Earth to destroy us once in for all.

But, the Americans have gained the upper edge and some dirty NASA man makes it possible to one up China and the nanobots are destroyed by good old fashioned American no how.

P.S. They missed every fucking satellite in their trajectory.

David and Goliath is a good Christian tale. And good Christians run the Earth. But, what if Goliath was the good guy?

I’m sure even Dr. Phil gets my point when we ruin it for what Carl Sagan would call billions and billions.

Fuck billions. It’s the universe and it’s THE NUT.

End game.

So, when an atypical anomaly manifest itself over an airport, don’t call Dan Akroyd or the Chicago Tribune. No, in my opinion throw rocks at it and hope that it has better judgment than your typical communist, homosexual, minority, liberal, peacenik alien and sends a large death ray into this overgrown double stuffed Uno’s special we smirk at and call Earth.