You have to wonder if all those space invaders came here in their flying saucers because they took a wrong turn somewhere en route. Mapquest, Yahoo and Google maps are not perfect. The AAA doesn't cover the area and besides, the space lane signs are all in English (and Spanish, Japanese, Chinese, Korean and Gaelic, but not Galactic.) The little green men in the flying saucers may just have had bad directions. Or ran into some indecipherable detour. Lost in space? Not unquestionable.
Or maybe their Metrocards expired and they were just trying to work their way around the toll booths.
We're always filming stories about people screaming and running from the invaders. Granted, most of them are pictured as ugly and dangerous looking. But maybe all they want is directions.
"Earthling, can you tell us how to get to Little Rock?"
"Don't know about no little rock, but there's a mighty big one down in the creek."
"Earthling, you sure are stupid."
"Yep, but we ain't lost."
(apologies to Pete Seeger, who probably didn't write that dialog, either.)
Maybe they're not lost. Maybe they just ran out of... out of... whatever fuel it is the saucers use. Again, the AAA doesn't cover the terrain. Or the fuel.
Or could be they're just seeking a rest stop. If so, we hope that whatever they expel during such "rests" does not dissolve porcelain.
In the age of political correctness and sensitivity to the needs and feelings of others, we have some nerve assuming these saucerians are hostile. Smacks of intolerance at best and racism at worst.
We need to establish a relationship with our space neighbors, a basis for discussion. Surely what we have in common is greater than what we might have in conflict.
Meantime, rather than letting them sit out there in the baking desert, we should get them a room at Motel 6 or maybe even a Holiday Inn Express. After all, we want to be seen as neighborly, don't we?
--Sen Schumer (D-NY) wants to curb high speed institutional stock trade because the "little guy" doesn't have the same access. Wake up, Chuck. The little guy has no access worth bragging about no matter the speed of the trade or its technical workings. And if this is news to you, it's time to audit come market classes at CCNY.
--A friend, Thelma, continues to drive, despite getting on in years. Her daughter, Carla thinks mom shouldn't be. Attention, Carla: You are correct, but Thelma didn't get to be an octogenarian by listening to you, and she's not going to start now.
--A religious cult called "the Family" numbers some high profile public officials and calls itself the "Christian Mafia." Hearing laughter, boys? That's from the graves of Gotti and Luciano, Gambino and even the fictional Vito Corleone, who know what you guys don't: There is no Mafia, and if there were, they wouldn't be Protestants, wouldn't be public officials and wouldn't talk about it where anyone else could hear.
I'm Wes Richards. My opinions are my own, but you're welcome to them.®