I really enjointed the last stuff of Stephen Hawking, dunno if he’s, or not,already crazted, but I enjoyed, as much as a South-Ampoliticious a Visa Gold, his last astrophysics’ thing, one on Martians. Says Don Stephen, who is not whoever, aliens could be dropping here any time sliming bad fluorescent gunk, and we better have no contact with them, ‘cos who knows, we may be taken for a ride with so much good vibes messages sent into space, Earth calling, hello, hello, can you hear? you listen? with a photo of the children, a Bambi film, and that song of that little something, uó, uó, very nice 1 . Maybe this bundle home delivered awakes the turkeys up there, who may not be as good dudes as some believe, and they desire to pull up to have a look, roughly speaking, as Cortez, Pizarro and other fine neurosurgeons of Aztec and Maya civilizations and places like that did. And we kick the bucket, snuff it.
To me, however, the idea gives me an orgasmic rush. High one. I’m quite cloyed with this gooey intergalactic marmalade. Kind Martians, worthy parents. It always poaches my liver the modern trend, so politically correct, of coming up with the aliens as kind folks, more cultured and civilized than humans. Based on what I ask. Furthermore, I agree with pal Hawking: so much earthling bullshit. Same they come in space tires -imagine these malnourished Martians attended by psychologists and NGO’s- or aboard armored ships with more gadgets than the electronics department at Sears. Freaking out to see our stupicunt faces. We be earthlings and be peace and love! Jao!. Du yu spikinglis? And so and so.
It motivates me lot more these aliens scattering off the UFO feeling like wild-partying, high of plonk, hip, as a British in Ibiza, messing all lost with blandiblub fluid mucus, while the club makes them the V with two fingers on peace plan and good vibes, comrades. Don’t tell me don’t make you randy, for example, that of a viscous yellow being walking leaving a gelatinous trail behind, chuff, chuff, armed with an atomic laser ultrasonic solvent gun, entering the Senate to see whatsup… Yes, there are those days when you’d pay for being a Martian.
So for me, they should invade. I don’t think we’re going to get any worse.
One on Martians – Dugutigui’s free translation of a text by A. Pérez Reverte
In the “Diula” language in Mali, the term « dugutigui » (chief of the village), literally translated, means: «owner of the village»; «dugu» means village and «tigui», owner. Probably the term is the result of the contraction of «dugu kuntigui» (literally: chief of the village).