Invasion Of The Body Attackers

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They’re here I tell ya, you must believe me! I mean, if you can’t trust a blogger then who can you trust?

Some doctor?

What? Entrust your safety to someone known for taking the hypocritical oath? That would mean putting all your trust in someone who dabbles in medical hypocrisy.

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Don’t you feel it much better to put all your trust in someone like me—an almost respected blogger on WordPress? Of course you do.

Sort of puts your mind at ease, doesn’t it? Especially when I’m about to tell you that…

WE’VE JUST BEEN INVADED BY ALIEN CREATURES FROM OUTER SPACE!

Yes, you read that correctly, we’ve been invaded!

Invaded by not just any alien creatures either, but alien creatures who fly, have lots of eyes, way too many legs, and who have antennae to help them communicate with their widely (literally) acknowledged extraterrestrial leader, Orson.

Consult—Mork & Mindy, circa 1978, for additional details.

Of course, science would have us all believe that they’re nothing more than a bunch of creepy crawly insects. Creepy crawly insects?

Who do all these crackpot scientists think they’re kidding? Didn’t we all saw Starship Troopers when it first came out?

Well, some of us did, but most of us saw TITANIC.

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All the same, you have to ask yourself, do alien insects—or Doogy Howser for that matter—look like they belong here with the rest of us on earth? Especially, Doogy. Doogy always wore a lab coat, not some long leather jacket. Bleck!

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THEY LOOK HIDIOUS!

Universal rejects if you ask me. Nothing but a bunch of alien species from some other planets sent here—JUST TO BUG US.

Arnie, from Elmer’s Tire Shop, told me all about it.

He said it’s all part of their Plan 9 from Outer Space thing.

You see, their Plan 8 thing went bad when they accidentally invaded the moon by mistake. Just after The Big Bang Theory exploded on the scene way back in 2007.

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Arnie (who when he’s not working on bicycle tires), is actually an obscure world famous alien bugologist who used to wear a lab coat similar to the one Doogy used to wear, but now wears street clothes like the rest of us.

Arnie works deep inside a top secret mountain fortress located somewhere in the state of Kansas—a state known for it’s high mountains.

No doubt, that’s because Arnie feels the wide open spaces of Kansas provide the ideal place for these creatures—THE ALIENS—to hide and reproduce in without being easily detected.

However, it should be noted that the Alien Bugologist of Guatemala don’t work in a secret mountain fortress. They work in a little hill fortress located in back of Cecil’s Burrito Shop. Maybe that’s because Guatemala’s mountains are mostly volcanic.

Nevertheless (with that little piece of twaddle now having been completely cleared up), Arnie says that all bugologist these days don’t actually wear lab coats much anymore.

This is because of the “Great Gary Larson’s Far Side Strike of 1987.”

See, Alien Bugologist were forced to give up wearing them after Gary Larson, creator of the comic strip “The Far Side” took to drawing CRACKPOT SCIENTIST in lab coats—instead of drawing the more nobler alien bugologist in lab coats.

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God only knows why, but I suspect, promises were made, endorsements were given, and money exchanged all under the table—possibly from a duped Scientific America employee.

No doubt, this was done on behalf of a rather dubious group of crackpot (mad) scientist who wanted to be seen as more important than they really are.

Eventually the great, Gary Larson, was forced to retire—if only to save the reputation of his great comic strip, The Far Side.

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Anyway, Arnie, tells me that since Tony Stark and “The Avengers” took over the job of protecting us and our planet, all the best scientific minds have given up on the idea of ever trying to stop this invasion—they eventually went underground to become Morloks.

Consult the film—The Time Machine, circa 1960, for more details.

I’m afraid that that leaves only you and I (and some pest control companies) to stop this invasion—which has become an all out infestation if you ask me.

Why just the other night, my wife and I had an alien encounter ourselves in downstairs bathroom. Oh, the bloodcurdling screams that came from that bathroom.

Then my wife joined me in screaming. Or rather, told me to stop screaming and do something.

That’s when I reached for a rolled up magazine and began to wage a life or death struggle with one of the eight legged creatures.

Finally, I had to retreat to a Motel 6 over in the next state, where (according to Tom Bodett) they leave the light on for ya.

I suppose that’s on the off chance that when you have a close encounter—of the eight-legged kind—you’ll at least have a safe house to go to at around $60 a night—give or take a buck or two.

Now I’ve always subscribed to the opinion that anything with more than two legs should probably be regarded as something otherworldly.

Which could explain why I’ve never been attacked from behind by a Chihuahua…or rabid Dogapus—a fictional but docile creature fond of man.

I read all about it in Geek Monthly. I’m told that one, Dr. Sheldon Cooper, discovered the creature. A likeness of the creature can occasionally be found on a T-Shirt.

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Anyway, eight legs is just six too many, folks. Which is why I strongly urge you to fear such aliens.

That, and they’re much faster than we are—not to mention…MUCH, MUCH SMALLER.

Let me just say that to be chased by a creature one inch in length—NEARLY 3 CENTIMETERS LONG—is to know shear terror.

At one point, I got so scared that I rushed out to buy a pack of “Depend” absorbant underwear—which I promptly went through all in one night.

But that’s only because my wife found out about the purchase (she hadn’t factored it into our budget yet) and promptly began to beat me with a frying pan.

Creepy crawly aliens and a wife whose budget is out of whack, are probably not to be trifled with.

Now, I suspect you probably think that I’m just making all this stuff up because I needed a post for my blog.

Well yeah, but just ask yourself these following questions before you discount anything I’ve told you as being nothing more than a bunch of rubbish.

Like, why is my blog not read by more readers? Could it be that maybe, just maybe, my massive amount of potential readers were abducted and consumed by aliens, and not (as WordPress suggested) that I write only worthless content of no value to anyone?

Gives one pause, doesn’t it?

Or let me ask you this one. How are alien insects able to control those flying saucers when they have so many legs getting in the way? “Look ma, NO HANDS!

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

Also, who are the contractors who designed all those unidentified flying objects up there?

Could it be…TESLA? And, where can I buy one in a midnight blue?

I mean, if the darn things are gonna lose value the instant we fly them off the lot, shouldn’t we be able to get one in our favourite colour?

At the very least… one at a Kelley (PROJECT) Blue Book price?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Sorry Earth, I Admit It, I Taunted Extraterrestrials

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About a dozen years ago I may have made a little mistake. I sent a letter out into space calling out extraterrestrial beings for their hostile nature. Ha, ha, ha… but it was a joke! Nevertheless, as luck would have it, I don’t think they saw it that way. I just received a letter of response in the mail. I think… we’re in trouble.

It was marked “Contents Urgent, Open Immediately Upon Receipt”

Naturally I wasn’t expecting any kind of response as I wrote this letter over a decade ago. I never expected any return mail, say nothing of it reaching some great INTELLIGENCE—I wonder if it’s too late to kiss up to an extraterrestrial?

Anyway, I did as instructed and opened the letter.

“Dear vile human-beings:” it began “how delightful to hear from you. We are in receipt of your letter dated September 14, 2003. We cannot help but wonder what on earth you were thinking, when you know darn well WE’RE GOING TO DESTROY YOU ALL FOR THIS!”

Okay, so I may have said a few things that were a little out of line. Things we’ll all probably regret later. But nothing any of you wouldn’t have thought of saying yourself to those little green bastards from outer space if they were standing here.

Which apparently they will be doing any minute now! (gulp)

Ha, ha, ha nothing like company coming when you least expect it, right? (Ahem… Gulp)

Naturally, I am as upset about this recent turn of events as you probably all are. But, I thought you should know (even at the eleventh hour) that they’re kind of upset about some of the things I…okay… WE… said to them. (Bigger GULP)

For example; I may have gone a little overboard when I swore (with a lot of profanity… and some finger-pointing) that someday I’d… okay WE… would kick their alien butt for abducting some of our people. And um… that WE would not take any of their sorry asses as prisoner. Okay, so BIG WHOOPS on my part there.

But hey, who thought they’d ever get the letter, right? Ha, ha ha!

And I may have accused them of doing this strictly so that they could have a little too much fun performing inhuman experiments on us—all without using some of our more popular pain killing recreational drugs. Yeah alright, I’ll admit that wasn’t cool either.

But dudes… E.T. has access to all the best stuff!

I also happened to mention how we didn’t appreciate their UFO’s buzzing around some of our aircraft over the years—just so they could show off how superior their technology is to our own.

Oh, and uh, how that was something only morons would do when they feel REAL inferior. I suggested they were compensating for not having a big… uh… well… you know.

They concluded their letter of response saying, “We thought you’d like to know (apparently as a courtesy, though some might call it a warning… or a threat) that by the time you receive this letter we’ll be well on our way, and very nearly there. Can’t wait to meet you, and all your friends…IN PERSON!”

“Yours truly: the little green bastards from outer space.”

“P.S. We haven’t forgot about what you guys did to us at Roswell.”

Uh… I think it’s just possible we’re all toast.

We’re Doomed…Well Guess We Better Move Then

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Well, my wife and I have begun house hunting, no doubt like the rest of you. With the news this week—as reported ever so ominously, from AOL news, that physicists have discovered our universe will “cosmologically collapse” inward, SOONER rather than later—we thought we’d better get a move on.

Not that I was expecting anything at all mind you, and especially an event laced with so much urgency. But you have to pay attention these days, particularly when AOL reports news with phrases like…

“Telling find may surprise you” meaning it won’t even startle you. And, “Huge secret you’ll never believe” meaning you could care less about it. Or, “Stunning fact that will shock you” meaning that if it were in fact a fact, you’d only be shocked if you were a moron.

Nevertheless, since physicists say we only have a few tens of billions of years left here in our old universe, we’re just going to have to move to another one I guess.

So my wife and I have decided to get cracking on this moving thing, as we would like to at least live long enough to see our social security checks kick in.

I hate packing up to move, don’t you? There is only one thing I hate more (relatively speaking that is—as I actually hate a lot more than one thing, but we don’t have time to go there now), and that’s unpacking.

Guys, have you ever noticed how everything always just sits in your garage after a move—waiting to be unpacked. That’s because we’re waiting for our wives to tell us to go do it, which she eventually will do.

Psst! FYI usually this sort of thing only happens during something like… the Super Bowl. So be prepared.

It’s always difficult to move anyway—particularly into a new universe. There’s always so much planning involved when you move to a new area. Initially you feel alien to your new surroundings, not to mention your new neighbors, and vice-versa.

Also, getting your kids registered for school, hoping they fit in with all the new classmates. Likewise you’ll have new neighbors coming over to meet and eat (I mean), greet you.new neighbor.

moving itemsAnd then there’s all the arrangements needed for making the move.

Like setting up a time with the movers (NASA) for carefully loading the rental rocket so that none of your valuables get broke during the move—however; this does not exclude you from going broke. Let’s face it, this kind of move can’t be cheap.

I only hope (as you probably do) that we’ll have enough time for the move, what with (checking my watch), ONLY a few billions of years before the great collapse.

Thanks AOL News for your timely (and ominous) warning.