In Space, No One Can Hear You Snore

We’ve been conditioned by books, movies, and television to have certain expectations regarding alien beings. Whether they fall into the cute and friendly category, like E.T., or the bizarre and menacing category, like the critters from the Alien series or those from War of the Worlds (the Martians, not Tom Cruise), we have it in our heads that visitors from beyond Earth will be, at minimum, interesting.

But what will you do when your close encounter finally happens and you discover that your guests are neither cuddly, benevolent star-voyagers, nor well-armed space calamari intent on turning major cities into dirty ashtrays? What if they are completely, unendurably boring?

There you are, sitting on your patio, when suddenly something large drops out of the sky onto the lawn. But instead of a dazzlingly illuminated UFO, it turns out to look more like a poorly maintained recreational vehicle, with a couple of battered satellite dishes, and an Area 51 parking pass.

Then a hatch creaks open, and just as you position your fingers in that live-long-and-prosper Vulcan greeting, one of those tiny, gray-green guys with a big head and no mouth pops out and says to you through telepathy, "We heard there was a real good outlet mall around here." And instead of fastening himself to your face and turning you into a breeding pod or letting you goof around with his light saber, he flops down on your couch and spends the next six hours watching QVC.

Finally, before he can say, "E.T. phone Home Shopping Club," you make your move. "Well, tomorrow’s a long day," you say, "Thanks for coming by." And you shove him out the door.

How are we to avoid any such encounters with Dearth Vacuous? Simple. What do you normally do when you want to dodge any contact with the tedious beings in your life?

You screen your calls.

Article Author: Bob Rhubart

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