So there I was, drying my daughters hair after bathing her and thinking about aliens — as you do.
And it struck me!
No, she didn’t steal the dryer from me ninja style and swing it into my head like a flail. I had an epiphany.
No… not the guitar. Having one of those would cause all kinds of a different kind of havoc, namely to your junk. *BOOM TISH* Thank you, thank you. I’m here all week folks. Tip your waiters.
No! We’re not here to talk CBT… this time.
Back to the aliens. THEY ARE ALREADY HERE!
Hear me out. I’m not talking talking about extra terrestrials or molemen or reptilians, or Mexicans/Syrians/etc, nor the giant Oompa-Loompa who ate five other Oompa-Loompa’s, absorbing them like Cell from Dragon Ball Z to increase his power to over 9,000.
No, none of those. But they are here. All around us everyday. And people are shit-their-pants scared.
This is the only thing I can think of to explain the state of the world we’re in at present. Alien ideas are invading the Earth and people are losing their ever-fucking-loving minds!
And what, ladies and gents, happens when the aliens invade the Earth?
JEFF GOLDBLUM’S PENIS FALLS OFF!
Wait, no, that was The Fly remake.
People start shooting and things go boom.
Pretty sure things are going boom right now, and I’m not talking about terrorism or anything like that. And we seem to be in the unfortunate type of invasion movie where people don’t start working together until the shit has well and truly hit, clogged, and baked on the overheating fan, then caught fire when it spontaneously combusts.
All I hope is that we get it together before we change genres altogether and end up in The Walking Dead. Coz, mate, stuff and thangs ain’t going to cut the mustard.
Anyway, I’m done. That’s it. Shoo, go away. What? You want Jeff Goldblum? Fine, here.