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Why I Don't Believe in Aliens

I don’t want it to seem like I’m breaking a longstanding oath to the Jedi order, because in order to do that, I’d have to acknowledge the slim possibility of Jedi knights being real. I’d have to watch Star Wars and Star Trek like they’re documentaries. I’d have to play Starcraft like I’m reviving Kriegspiel. These things that I’ve mentioned are labeled as science-fiction, keyword there being fiction. If they were nonfiction, our world would be fucked, even more so than it is now in the year 2020 with Corona Virus and governmental tyranny. Okay, so we MIGHT have a Jabba the Hutt look-alike in the oval office right now, but that’s as close to admitting the realness of aliens that you will get from me. That’s right. I can’t believe I have to say this, but I’m going to anyways. My name is Garrison…and I don’t believe in aliens. Never have, never will.

Aliens do make for some interesting creative fuel, I’ll admit. I played the hell out of Starcraft from 2000 to 2001. I slashed the shit out of everyone with the Protoss zealots’ photon blades. I ate space marines alive with the Zerg’s blade-fanged Ultralisk creature. Every piece of fiction I’ve ever written during that time period was basically Starcraft thievery, which I would get defensive about because I didn’t want to get stuck in a frivolous copyright lawsuit. But let’s be real: Zerglings, Ultralisks, Hydralisks, Protoss dragoons, Protoss carriers, Protoss templars, they can only be enjoyed on a fictional basis. If these biological monstrosities existed in the real world, they would ransack the shit out of earth and we’d be completely defenseless. How’s that Space Force working out for you, Mr. President?

I know I’m going to hear the argument somewhere down the line, “Well, Garrison, are you so arrogant that you believe earthlings are the only ones who exist in the universe?” Until I see otherwise, yes, I am. Where are all these lizard people that I keep hearing about? Where are the goopy Martians with their slime-covered bodies and bug eyes? When is Darth Vader going to destroy the world with his Death Star? I don’t see any of these things. I don’t pick up on them with my other senses either. If I can’t sense them in any way, I’m not going to believe in them just because there’s a small chance they MIGHT exist outside of the Milky Way.

I treat extraterrestrial life with the same amount of skepticism that I do religious deities, which is to say I’m an atheist through and through. If I don’t believe God, Allah, or Shiva exist, why would I suddenly believe that aliens exist? Religion and alien culture have the same amount of proof to convince me, which is to say none at all. This is just my take on it, though. If other people want to practice religion or believe in wacky ideas, I’m not going to try and stop them. Me personally? I refuse to believe in something I have no proof exists. And as long as we’re crossing gods and aliens off the list, where’s all the zeal for other fantasy and sci-fi creatures? What about ogres? What about goblins? Or elves? Or dragons? Or big ass tarantulas? How come the people who put so much stock into aliens don’t believe in those things as well? “Are you so arrogant that you believe elves don’t share this world with us?”

Like I said before: aliens should be treated as fictional characters in enjoyable science-fiction. They should not influence politics on any level. We should not have radio show hosts and podcasters spouting conspiracy theories about aliens poisoning our drinking water or shoving rods up our asses. We shouldn’t have conspiracy theories about anything else as well, whether it’s Obama being from Kenya, the earth being flat, pizza shops being safe havens for pedophiles, or COVID-19 being a hoax designed to derail conservatives. The silliness alone seems harmless and can even be explored in filmmaking or story writing, but the minute people start dying in the real world over them, that’s when I have a problem. Hundreds of thousands of people have died from COVID-19 because the public and its politicians aren’t taking it seriously. What does this have to do with aliens? I don’t know, but I bet their existence could be shoehorned into these theories to gain political leverage. It’s happened before and it’ll happen again.

You know what I really love about alien culture? This idea of anal probing, which was made popular by that season one episode of South Park where Cartman gets a metal rod shoved up his ass. Later in the episode, the rod expands into a satellite dish that communicates with extraterrestrials. Please tell me you don’t think South Park is nonfiction. Just laugh at the comedy. Don’t take it too seriously. Matt Stone and Trey Parker, the creators of the show, don’t take life too seriously and they would encourage their audience to follow suit. Nobody’s going to shove a glowing metal rod up your ass. If they do, you’re probably stuck in a BDSM dungeon. Or the pawn shop from Pulp Fiction, one of the two.

I know I’m ranting and raving over here, but I actually have a message to go along with this aggression. If you’re going to believe in something, don’t use that as an excuse to hurt others. You can believe in Jesus all you want, but don’t beat up LGBT members because of it. You can believe in aliens all you want, but don’t use that as an excuse to influence world politics and radicalize already unstable people. Do whatever you want to do as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody else.

Nobody will mind if you watch Star Trek: the Original Series and be blown away by the philosophical nature of it. Nobody will mind if you enjoyed all nine episodes of Star Wars instead of just episodes four through six. Nobody will mind if you play Starcraft until your ass is sore from sitting for so long (and not because the Protoss shoved a photon rod up your anus). If we could all just agree to get along and not hurt each other, the world would be a better place. Write that sci-fi novel. Write that lizard man movie script. Put together a videogame about venomous blobs of goo from Jupiter and Saturn. Do what Nickelback did in the song “Million Miles an Hour” and travel through the galaxy after taking that “everlasting pill”. Do what you want and don’t be a dick!

If you have anything you want to add to this conversation, speak now before the UFO comes to my house and pulls me onboard with their tractor beam! Ooo, I know! Why do UFO’s have to be circular disks? Why can’t they be any other shape? How about a cylinder? How about a trapezoid? How about a pyramid? Imagine a pyramid-shaped vessel that could spin in circles like a drill and mine our precious resources from the depths of the planet. Now that’s a hell of a novel prompt! Don’t worry, I’m not trying to stir shit up and make you even more paranoid than you already are. But just imagine the possibilities of a spinning pyramid ship helmed by elven warlocks and dragon necromancers. Imagine that they’re harvesting our oil to fuel an even greater weapon to use against the ogre and Protoss alliance, crushing their oppressors once and for all! Now there’re no excuses for a blank page!

Donate Your Blood Money

***DONATE YOUR BLOOD MONEY***

Have you ever done something for money you’re not necessarily proud of? Does it feel wrong to have that resulting wad of cash because of it? Maybe your paycheck comes from a far-right conspiracy theorist, overseas dictator, drug lord, or otherwise objectionable human being. Of course, if you need that paycheck to survive, then there’re no two ways about it. But…if you’re able to afford it and you’re not comfortable with your blood money…donate it to a worthy cause. If money is the root of all evil, then turn it over to the root of all that’s good in the world and watch the balance of power shift.

Suppose you’re a WWE wrestler and you’re being assigned to perform for the Saudi Arabian government. You can’t stand the oppressive way they treat women and LGBT people. You can’t stand the fact that there’s no freedom of speech. There’s no freedom of anything in that country, but you must perform there at the risk of being fired by the WWE. It’s money from the Saudi Arabian government, so it’s going to be a big fat payday…for a charity of your choice! It could go to RAINN (Rape and Incest National Network). It could go to HIV/AIDS research. It could be used to prevent LGBT suicide. Hey, it’s your hard-earned money. If you want to donate it to a cause that’ll make the Saudi government’s heads explode, that’s your call. WWE can’t tell you not to do that.

Suppose you’re a waitress at a restaurant Rush Limbaugh likes to frequent. You love the fact that he’s a high tipper, but can’t stand the shit he says on live radio whether it’s against women, people of color, the LGBT community, or god knows what else. What do you do with that big ass tip if you don’t feel comfortable with it in your bank account? What any normal person would, of course: donate it to a women’s shelter or a women’s health clinic! This was actually a true story that the Young Turks reported. I can’t imagine Rush was very happy with it and quite frankly I don’t give a shit.

I don’t want you all to think I’m just standing on my soapbox and spouting off my beliefs through a bullhorn, as much as I love to do that. Donating blood money can actually be something a protagonist does in a piece of creative writing. Suppose your main character is a space mercenary who gets a fat briefcase full of money from a disgusting Jabba the Hutt-esque crime lord. Said space mercenary could donate it to impoverished children in the galaxy. Suppose your main character is a streetwalker who takes a hefty paycheck from a client she fucking hates. She can donate it to a women’s shelter.

Part of that ongoing story arc is what the boss man does after the protagonist donates his money to a rival cause. Does he send goons after the protagonist? Does he sue the protagonist? Does he go after the charity with explosive devices? Boss men hate that sort of thing, so it’s going to make your story a hell of a lot spicier than before. Just think of how wicked it would be if Boba Fett donated his bounty hunting money to helping women escape from Jabba the Hutt. It’ll never happen, but just think of the world of possibilities!

To be honest, I didn’t really think this blog entry all the way through. It happens sometimes. I’ll have this big idea that only expands to…one full page of text. That’s okay. I said everything I needed to say. Remember: only donate your blood money if you’re in a stable enough position to do so. In this fucked up economy, pinching your pennies is paramount to survival. I get that. But if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable with such unclean money, the ASPCA is more than willing to use it to protect precious fur babies. I can only imagine that’s what happened to Michael Vick’s assets once they were seized and rightfully so. Dog murdering bastard! I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER AND EMILIO & MARIGOLD***

Yard sales, house chores, concerts, illness, and general sleepiness have slowed down the process of putting together manuscripts for Beautiful Monster and Emilio & Marigold. But as Valarie Savage Kinney once said in a You Tube video, slow progress is better than no progress at all. E&M’s manuscript is complete and the first three chapters of Beautiful Monster are put together, which leaves twenty-five more to comb through for glaring flaws. Once the manuscripts are complete and I’m sure there are zero typos, I plan on sending them back to Hollow Hills for another few rounds of editing. My other beta readers have been wonderful, but Hollow Hills is the least expensive out of all of them. Plus, with two manuscripts instead of just one, being frugal is important. Sleepiness can kick my ass all it wants, but I’ll keep getting back up even if it fucking kills me!

***BEACH BALL Z***

I’m sure you all have noticed that in between edit jobs for E&M and BM, I’m writing more short stories for the Poison Tongue Tales and American Darkness trilogies. The next short story on deck will be a Dragon Ball Z parody called “Beach Ball Z”. It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Zoku, Martial Artist
2. Jeeta, Martial Artist
3. Nameless Audience Members

SYNOPSIS: In the finals of the Dragon Fist Tournament, Zoku and Jeeta square off at the world famous Preparation H Pavilion. Despite the warriors’ efforts to put on an intense, violent fight for the crowd, the audience is preoccupied with bouncing a beach ball around and getting a Twitter trend going on called #BeachBallZ. While Zoku has a lax attitude towards the distracted fans, Jeeta feels overwhelmingly disrespected and pops the beach ball mid-match, much to the crowd’s booing dismay.

FUN FACT: This story was inspired by true events that took place during a WWE Tag Team Championship match at Summer Slam between The Hardy Boys and Cesaro & Sheamus. Some idiots in the crowd were playing with a beach ball during what was an intense and brutal match, so Cesaro ran out in the crowd and popped the motherfucker. Good on him!

***WRESTLING PROMO OF THE DAY***

(RE: Jake “The Snake” Roberts)

“The first thing I want to be done around here is to get that piece of crap out of my ring! Don’t just get him out of my ring; get him out of the WWF! ‘Cause I’ve proved, son, without a shadow of a doubt that you ain’t got what it takes anymore! You sit there, you thump your bible, and you say your prayers and it didn’t get you anywhere! Talk about your psalms, talk about John 3:16! Austin 3:16 says I just whipped your ass! All you got to do is go buy a cheap bottle of Thunderbird to get back some of that courage you had in your prime!”

-Stone Cold Steve Austin after winning the 1996 King of the Ring tournament-