Notice to all Earthings--some helpful advice for y'all

Greetings, Earthlings. You have recently shown some interest in expanding beyond that pissant garbage dump (no really, the Ullithi have been dumping their excess iridium on y’all for millennia-I thought you knew!) that you call home and venturing out into the rest of the galaxy. I have been elected, with some rather heated debate I might add, as the representative of the sentient races in the galaxy to suggest to you that doing you’re not quite ready for this important step. Why? Well, to be quite frank, everyone else out here hates you and you seem to be having some difficulty mastering some rather basic biological processes.

Lets start with your physical appearance. Lets face it, y’all are the UGLIEST bunch of hairy sentients to hit the galactic scene in, well, forever. We’re not sure (there was a great deal of debate as to what part of your anatomy was the most disgusting) but a consensus was reached that it’s the way you eat. Your ‘eating’ has got to be the most barbaric, inefficient and disgusting displays of energy conversion in recorded history. First you grab another living, respirating being unlucky enough to be native to your planet, and then you begin breaking it into smaller chunks using tiny knobs of crystallized calcium you call teeth, all the while spewing vile fluids and smaller pieces of the unfortunate organism all over yourself and the general vicinity (the two lose flaps of gristle you call ‘lips’ are notoriously inefficient at containing this mess when you even bother to use them). Then you swallow the resulting paste in a series of revolting gagging motions until the acids in your pitiful one stomach can release the prey’s energy. And what comes out you other end after this entire process is, if this can be believed, even more revolting than what went in! Why can’t you just unhinge your lower jaw and swallow your victim’s whole, or evolve a pseudopod to absorb nutrients from them after mercifully shielding the entire process from our sight? There are even organisms on your very planet that eat this way, why oh why must you persist in being so disgusting?! Or how’s about photosynthesizing–that’s a clean, non-smelly way to get energy. One can only conclude that you enjoy coating each other in the rotting bits of your prey for some reason.

When you’re not gnawing on someone, you appear to take an inordinate amount of joy in sticking pointed projectiles into each other at wildly varying velocities, usually with spectacularly fatal results. There just seems to be something about watching someone else absorb kinetic energy that y’all find entertaining and quite frankly the rest of us don’t get it. We’ve been watching you do this for several thousand years and at first it was cute (‘oh look X45-Luip–xxxi: that hairy simian just embedded a rock in that other one’s cranium!’) but after ages of watching you essentially just make bigger rocks and sticks (with fire thrown in occasionally for variety) to stick into each other, we’re simply bored every time y’all start in on your kinetic energy absorbing contests (i.e. which side can absorb the most kinetic energy without yelling uncle). Why this fascination with kinetic energy? We eventually commissioned a galactic survey to analyze your incredibly monotonous and boring spectrum of radiowave based auditory and visual entertainment and it came to the following conclusion: all of these kinetic energy displays are actually failed mating attempts. It makes such sense now: your mating involves (of course) much yelling and copious amounts of various foul-smelling fluids and–this was the kicker–shoving something pointy into one another! At last we had explained this odd behavior! Much congratulating and undulating and tentacle smacking was enjoyed amongst the researchers when they discovered this until they realized that this quite possibly made you the most MORONIC species to achieve sentience in living memory. I mean, what kind of lunkhead would confuse the application of high-velocity leaden pellets to various anonymous targets with reproduction?! Hell, most of the time they’re even aiming at the wrong subspecies! Don’t get us wrong–we’re quite happy to have y’all keep screwing up this very basic process–but I mean, come on! Don’t any of you ever THINK!! Quite frankly, once this had dawned on the conference the Retrol were hellbent on dropping a largish asteroid on y’all on general principles but we reluctantly restrained them in the interests of galactic peace.

So listen up, we are not going to give you these instructions again: when procreating it is necessary to sloooowly insert the correct pointed object into the correct orifice to successfully consummate the process. High velocity leaden pellets are no good and neither are rocks, sticks and various sharp metal objects and we’ll be dammed if we can figure out where y’all thought fire fit into this entire process. I mean really, y’all should be able to master this. It’s not that complicated. And chew with your damn mouths closed. That is all.

Okkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk…someone missed their nappy time.

We will kick your ass, human, we know where you live. There is a large comet in the Oort Cloud with your name on it and about a thousand space-rednecks just dying to drop it on your front yard.

Best speak with respect!

<surely I don’t need a smirky here do I?>

Wabbit, I am DYING here! You must submit this to Teemings!

Gort … Klaatu Barada Nikto.

You forgot the part about how we like to wear digital watches.

Lemme get this straight: We’re being chastised by a sentient being that misspelled “Earthlings” in the title and then constructed the sentence quoted above.

Rrrriiiiiiiiiigghht. :wink:

I am not as worried as I was.

But you said you were here to serve man.

“To Serve Man”…it’s a cookbook!!!

Hey, if you space aliens are so danged smart, what’s up with the anal probes? Of course you think we’re a bunch of hairy and ugly creatures, since you’ve only been looking up our bungholes. Think you can kick our asses (there’s that fixation again)? Pffft. It is to laugh. Once we fart in your general direction, you’ll be so overcome with disgust that you won’t be able to act. Hah.

Now, now . . . we’ve finally made Contact with a sentient race from another planet, and all you can do is complain about his grammar? Considering the syntax of Ullithian might be quite different from the King’s English, I say we cut the little green man some slack.

Green, hell, he’s red.

I think they’s just jealous because even with the gravity defying rockets what they straps on the ass-end o’ they trucks, there’s nothin’ they’ve got what could take on your average Earthling monster truck at the intergalactic rally. Nobody builds oversized novelty trucks like us, man. Nobody.

We mock what we do not understand.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am THespos, Sergeant at Arms of the Intergalactic Council and heir to the throne of L’Wagatu.

Indeed, it took much effort to restrain the Retrol from nudging that asteroid your way. I had to personally bribe their High Priestess and Overlord of the Seven Smiggi with six cases of Zaalian Dessonol and a one-pound bag of peanut M&Ms. Consider yourselves fortunate, as well as in my debt.

Wabbit, while an acomplished member of the council (as well as a heck of a Skivvit player), forgot to mention something quite important. You furry, smelly, semi-sentients are the stars of the biggest reality holoshow in the quadrant. The Zygorthians can’t get enough of your constant exchanges of kinetic energy. The Snerds jiggle and laugh hysterically as your world’s leaders hurl objects at one another over something as silly as the black joy juice that bubbles up from fissures within your planet’s crust. The W’ggort Fneels just think you look funny in your bathing suits.

Be that as it may, there is another benefit. While over 347 quadrillion sentients are tuned into your antics every week, your sponsor, Quiggly’s Quognog, receives more holonet inquiries for their product than they do at any other time of the week. I think your society is relatively safe until their marketing department realizes you run on Thursdays, and it’s only natural that a sentient would want a nice warm Choco-Quognog on a Thursday.

Once they do piece that together, however, don’t expect me to protect you from the Retrol. Devious bastards, the Retrol. A Retrol once kedgagoffed my sister and left her alone on the dark side of Murial VI without a reliable spiffle. But I digress…

It’s not going to be exciting like Independence Day. The Retrol are not going to come down in pansy-ass flying saucers and incinerate your precious landmarks with green laser beams or anything like that. Think Alderaan after Darth Vader had a bad day aboard the Death Star. One minute, you’re happily launching lead projectiles at your friendly neighborhood semi-sentient, the next minute you’re floating through the vacuum of space, going “What the fuck just happened?” It’s not going to be pretty.

Don’t blame the messenger. After all, I’m not the one who ignored the promise of broadcast power. That Tesla guy was the smartest of the whole lot of y’all. [sub]And you thought he was just bat-shit crazy.[/sub]

Anyway, just thought I’d poke my head through a wormhole to warn you of your impending doom.

All hail L’Wagatu!

[sub]Wabbit, the deal was you got to tell them off IF YOU TOOK AWAY THOSE THINGIES THAT VIBRATE AND MAKE NOISE …


Someone’s taking a trip to the de-rinnobator next time we dock at 541-DY-A…[/sub]

Cool Aliens say “y’all”. Being from Arkansas, I’ll feel right at home. Do y’all go muddin too? What about grits? I love grits.

I would just like to elaborate on what my esteemed colleague THespos said regarding plans for your extermination. There seems to be a perception on your part that a substance called ‘duct tape’ will protect you. Although the Retrol are going to be disappointed in me (they were so looking forward to incinerating you duct-taped fools just to see which spectra of light you would emit), I would like to take this opportunity to emphatically state that this is not, NOT the case. It should be obvious to you that duct tape is useful for only, well, taping ducts. Even we get this and we don’t even use ducts anymore! Haven’t even seen one in centuries in fact. Sheesh…

And Eutychus, my spined friend, speaking Rigellian will not win you any points here as these pointy headed yokels can barely understand their own languages, much less ours. You’ve seen the responses to my suggestions haven’t you? So far we have one of their calcium knob deficient subspecies inviting me to ingest some vile substance because I remind it of its mother (I have tentacles you fool! What species do you think you are?), another who cannot understand the entire reason for anal probes (as if that shouldn’t be obvious at this point) and the last who seems to think that I would prefer to own a high-centered, unarmed wheeled vehicle called a ‘monster truck’ instead of tooling around the universe in my customized Hjaxt Class Superdreadnought! I rest my case. Where’s that damn asteroid.
I’m just dying to see the stoopid expression on their faces when we vaporize that ball of dirt they call home…

<and kaylasdad99–thanks for the kind words but I’m not sure how to submit to Teemings. Sorry!>

All right, that’s it. Someone get me a towel; I’m outta here. I wanna go make sandwhiches for a village on some other planet.

Gosh, I sure hope they get Buffy that far out in space. I’d hate to miss the last episode.

Okay, all y’all space folks seen these sci-fi movies we make, where there’s some evil alien race that just keep coming back, no matter how many times they get burned, nuked, shot into space, smashed, or droped from great heights? The kind that always find a crack in the security, an oversight in the precautions, a hole in the defences, and sneak in past all sorts of incredible technology and eviscerate everyone in hideous and original ways? The kind that, just when everything seems safe, just as the last reel is coming to a close, just when it all seems over, jumps out of the closet and bites everyones’ heads off?

We’re those aliens.

Welcome to Earth. You fuckers are toast.

“It’s the Interstellar Grammar Patrol – make a run for it!!!” :smiley: