Spam-O-Lot:  Close Encounters of the Kinkiest Kind.

Many are probed, but few are chosen…

Can You Keep A Secret?

Don’t tell Ms. Gracie and the Boudoir Babes, but I’ve recently ascertained that I am quite possibly on the brink of being cosmically famous. No need to adjust your glasses; you read it correctly the first time. I actually mean the kind of heretofore-unheard-of fame that extends far beyond mere earthly borders into the distant metagalactic stratosphere!

How did I come to this conclusion you might very well ask, and I might very well answer. Hold on to your Ursula K. Le Guin blow-up doll, because this is going to be quite a shocker. The simple truth is that every day, come hell or high water —neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds— zillions of alien entities are vying for my attention with a multitude of ingeniously worded emails sent surreptitiously to my inbox.

And while my fellow Kittens would no doubt find this amazing development absolutely plausible due to my endearing charm, pseudo-intellectualism, hot-to-trot sexuality, and haughty-taughty attitude, I prefer you keep this between you and me. Girls will be girls, after all, and Kittens will be Kittens! And if I ruffle all that pretty fur —the venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog’s tooth— well, we’re gonna have quite a nasty catfight on our hands!

So, Can We Talk?

While you must be wondering why our little friends chose this particular time and place to make themselves known to the human race, I am pretty sure that I have it all figured out. Think about it: What better time and place, now that most earthlings are dallying in cyberspace more often than not? My best guess is that, being far more advanced than our own little planet, they’ve been waiting very patiently for a very long time for us to catch-up.

Imagine how their little alien intra-communication devices must have been tittering away when Al Gore invented the Internet and William Gibson reached out to them with the newly-coined term, “cyberspace.” Innately discerning, the little dickens would have immediately recognized the prefix “cyber” as a term for networking. Just what they’d been waiting at least centuries, most likely eons, to do: Cyberspace = Network in Space!

Being logical (as is the nature of aliens), their first order of business was deciding whom to approach. No doubt they surmised that the deciphering of their clandestine “transmissions” would require someone of superior intellect, that special person with the astute ability to read between the lines. Which is where I come into the picture. Obviously, in their diligent scanning of this new Internet Galaxy, they happened upon mon oeuvre and realized they’d found the perfect contact in moi!

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 21st, 2006 at 4:34 am and is filed under Funny Side Up, Rhetorically Yours. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.