Anyone who spent at least half an hour reading into the Mayan calendar talking point last year, would have quickly realised that it had very little to do with the end of the world at all but more about a significant time in our earth’s history. Still, I witnessed hundreds of people on social media sites talking about how tanked-up they were going to get that night, being that the world might end. Dozens of invites to nightclubs filled my news feed, proclaiming that the drinks are cheap, so dress up like a slut and dance until your recycled plastic stilettos fall off, because the worlds going to melt.
There was no running from gaping lava pits, no fire hail, no asteroids, no aliens, nothing. The drinks were quite reasonable but similarly to every other weekend, many people woke up the next morning, poisoned and shaking in bed, with their ears ringing from some endless high frequency Dub Step synths, instead of a DJ respectively putting together a playlist of the several thousand tracks of masterfully composed music, from throughout human history.
If it was the end of all of us that night, we failed to do it right, that’s me included. I spent my evening in a large country manor house partying with people who were just about legal to drink, wide eyed and gurning to heavy bass music. The night was advertised as a 1920’s gangster style affair, with performers and light shows that would mesmerise and entertain. In reality it was a couple hundred young people dressed up in their grandparents clothes, sweating and bumping into each other through strobe lights and smoke. I thought for a moment what it would be like for a time traveller to have accidently wound up in that place at that time. He or she would probably think something had gone terribly wrong with the machine and arrived in a parallel dimension, making written history irrelevant, sat in the corner reduced to tears, with their head between their knees being ignored by the mayhem around them.
My schoolboy fantasies about myth and mythologies were crushed by my thirst for knowledge. I found that the ancient Greek camp fire tales had survived the test of time because of their underlying eternal messages about time, morality and mortality. Similarly, god or the god my white working class school chose to enforce, didn’t create everything in a week and Jesus was born in the middle east and therefore didn’t look like Harrison Ford with a beard, as many television productions and illustrated books liked to portray. How the fuck did he find men with names like Matthew, Mark, Luke and John in Israel at that time?
All of the myth, legends and supernatural books I used to read were often illustrated, drawn reconstructions of personal accounts, occasionally backed up by some badly processed photographs with a hazy creepy figure stood next to an even more intimidating real person. You come to realise famous photo’s like the one of the Loch Ness monster is probably nothing more than a swan caught on some fishing line, dragging a few plastic bags. Bigfoot could well be a tall terrified homeless man, running away from some deer hunters.
I’ve always been fascinated by things out of the ordinary…conspiracies, monsters, aliens, ghosts and the Welsh. I’ve been here almost thirty years and all but the Welsh have been complete and utter disappointments thus far. The question that often appears in scientific circles from year to year is ‘Who is out there?’. After years of casual researching, reading and watching events documented by our race, I start to ask the question “Who gives a fuck?”.
I was listening to a two and a half hour talk recently between someone who I really like, Joe Rogan and a guy I believe is far beyond our help. His name is Steven M. Greer, he’s the kind of guy who would be as creepily passionate about selling cleaning products to you, as he would trying to sell you the idea that we are definitely not alone. This guy was the founder of the disclosure project and now he claims that he can call upon UFO’s to appear before your eyes. He has that stirring madness behind the eyes as if he has actually been violated by ‘the greys’ and the polo shirt and khaki work pants combo at literally every public appearance that just screams molester.
As someone who has sat and watched hundreds of UFO videos on the internet, I can spot a fake in the first couple of seconds of the clip. Years ago I would get all excited if something appeared genuine but now, I feel nothing. My passion for the hunt is nearly all but gone…the creeping realisation that even if the video showed the craft land, something getting out and taking a slash in the bushes before taking off again…what difference would it make?
We fired a binary message into space in the 70’s detailing what we are, where we live and how many there are of us. The public were led to believe this was intended to make contact with extra-terrestrials in another galaxy (25,000 years away to be exact) but because it is that far away, the experiment was merely to show off what we could achieve in a technical sense. It is highly probable that no one ever, will hear or see that message, it would have been more productive projecting Steven Hawking’s face on the moon.
It is more likely however, that aliens have accessed our endless stream of alien invasion movies from our internet and wireless feeds. They would see Ripley, the bald potty mouth from the film Aliens, emptying magazines into ET’s simply for being hungry. Or witness the Fresh Prince punch an alien in the head after having downed it with a fighter jet, smoking a cigar. The alternative is that they were there watching when we sent that message, intercepted it and metaphorically ripped it up and threw it in the bin. We’re their dirty little experiment and we provide them with too many laughs to allow another civilisation to come and take our cows and anal probe hill billys.
Just yesterday I read an article about one company’s proposal to send several humans on a one way ticket to Mar’s.
“So long as you’re over 18 and “have a deep sense of purpose” and “the capacity for self-reflection, you have a shot.“
Well that’s me out because I only have a deep cynical sense of purpose and I think too much to feel the need to go to a planet where literally nothing happens. Since August 2012 the NASA Mars rover, which looks like they took a lot of their notes from the film Short Circuit, has found some evidence that suggests, water. That’s one of the main goals for the eight gazillion dollar robot mission, to find some evidence that at some point, water. Countless people on this rock, which as we all know is covered in the stuff, can’t find enough to drink, why the fuck are we looking on another planet for it?
Why you need to be over 18 years old for this trip is beyond me, what has age got to do with doing nothing? If anything the majority of humans under the age of 18 want to do exactly this kind of activity.
Does no one realise that in the space of 24 hours on Mars they may be asked to “Sweep radioactive dust off the roof”, or “tighten the magnetic coupler.” During a fire storm. You’re not going to be joining the leagues of Columbus or Magallan. Columbus found America…a huge land mass full of breath-taking landscapes, millions of different animals and a really liveable climate. So obese humans, less natives, TV, fast food, strippers, guns, race tracks, theme parks and drugs is what we contributed that to the land but if there’s one thing that can be said about the U.S.A, it aint boring.
Anything half decent on Mars is going to be whatever we take, or anything we build.
Many questions were answered in regards to space in 1969, when several human beings were fired at the moon in what could have been the most expensive coffin ever made. They took with them, an off road buggy, a flag, a camera and some golf clubs and I bet they were fucking thankful for that because sure enough, after looking at the moon for centuries through advancing technology, we finally come to realise there is indeed, no air, no aliens, absolutely fuck all but moon. It’s no wonder why we haven’t gone back, once you’ve played golf, drove around for a bit, stuck your flag in the ground and taken your pictures…what else Is there to do? I have more interesting drink and drugs related stories including many of these activities, right here on lovely warm, breathable planet earth and all it cost me was a week’s wages and my dignity.
Recently I had to pay a family friend a visit in hospital, here in England. Sadly you’ll find that it’s not much like a Star Trek medical bay but instead it’s like hanging around a zoo where all of the zookeepers have no idea what the animals are. In contrast, I’ve watched a surgical robot on YouTube peel a fucking grape, I’ve seen a man with no arm with a replacement carbon fibre one, with which he pours his beer. So before we start broadcasting Big Brother on Mars, or go and see if there is bacteria in a ditch on Jupiter, we need to have a nice tall glass of shut the fuck up and re-think what we’re all doing.
So this is a request, no, more like a demand. If there is alien life out there, here even, someone please tell us and back this up with digital 1080p HD video and audio or I will flush your head down a toilet. If you can request a visit from UFO’s, do this, make it happen, invite us all via YouTube, Facebook and TV and let us in on the action. Or even better, if you’re are an alien race, come and save us from killing ourselves through boredom. I’m no longer fascinated by your strange looking craft, or the apparent experiments you wish to perform. I want to visit your digs, smoke a cigar with you and sample your beer. Your time is now.