DURST: Intergalactic TV
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When I watch TV, I'm happy. I sit in that eerie phosphorescent tubal glow and lounge becalmed, thinking about the microwave emissions being bombarded into outer space like a gazillion ambassadors of tacky schlock. Suppose intelligent life is out there, which admittedly is a leap since we have yet to prove intelligent life exists in Washington, D.C. This means aliens' first glimpse of our culture is going to be our television programming. Well, hell, no wonder we haven't been contacted yet. They're scared out of their little alien wits of us. They must think everyone on Planet Earth is a junkie, a cop, recovering from massive gunshot wounds, or stand up comics who not only don't want anything but then have no idea what not to do with it once they don't get it.Who can blame our little green buddies for hovering around the Utah night playing long distance "Dissect the Cow Organ" instead of offering us the secret to eternal youth in an easy to use capsule form? "Your results may vary!" But what if they're not so friendly? What if they're hostile carnivorous eggplants the size of railroad container cars, looking for docile herd animals to enslave and use as rotisserie appetizers with a honey mustard glaze? Would you approach a society you knew to worship angst ridden doctors, corrupt lawyers and various subgenuses of surly private detectives? You know. Fat detectives. Bald detectives. Buxom blonde bikini clad detectives. Old lady detectives. Detectives with birds. Detectives who wear shorts. Detectives with lots of guns. Detectives with big guns. Buxom blonde bikini clad detectives with lots of big guns and birds.