I have just tonight received a new e-mail from my other-worldly correspondant, Wanna Chuggah Brooski. I like to share these with my readers as soon as they show up in my inbox. This one comments on the reports of alien abductions that pop up from time to time.

Dear Mike:

While monitoring your planet’s video transmissions, I occasionally come across interviews with some humans who tell stories about having been abducted by extraterrestrials. I say that they are humans, but I am not actually certain of this, because these specimens generally have much fewer teeth than the rest of your species. I have postulated that it is because these individuals are herbivores. I was hoping you could clear this up.

I bring up this topic because I wish to assure you that our planet is by no means responsible for these abductions. Why would we waste precious fuel to come all the way to your planet to abduct such specimens as these? We have absolutely nothing to learn from them. We know all that there is to be known about these herbivorous members of your species by monitoring transmissions of the human named Jerry Springer.

If we were to abduct a human, we would select a specimen who is interesting, entertaining, or at least has some good whiskey to share. If Willie Nelson ever turns up missing from your planet, then you might well suspect us. He meets all of these criteria.

My apologies for making this a short note. I am very busy at this particular time conducting an extensive study at the request of our top scientitsts. They wish to understand what has happened to families of your planet from the time of Ozzie and Harriet to The Osbournes.

Regards,

Wanna Chuggah Brooski

Check out previous e-mails from my alien pen pal.

Check this space to find out what we’ve tossed into the pot recently.
Remember, we’re always stirring something up here at Road Kill Gumbo !

July 8- My first post since I think the Eisenhower administration.  Just to let you know I’m still alive out here and wasn’t swallowed up by an oil slick whilst swimming off the Louisiana coast.   I promise I’ll post another before the next total solar eclipse that can be seen from the banks of Lake Ponchatrain (I’m not sure when that is;  I hope not tomorrow morning.)

I haven’t really made it a habit to post about my personal experiences here on this blog. But, today being my birthday, I figured what the hell?. How old am I, you ask? Pick any cliché that applies to the aging baby boomer crowd, and it fits. I won’t repeat them; you’ve heard them all.

I’ve often thought, why do folks my age even celebrate birthdays? Do we really think, “Hey! I’m another year closer to the grave; what about that! I wish I would just hurry up and die!” I only have that thought after a night of heavy drinking. (Come to think of it, I did have that very thought when I woke this morning. Or was that yesterday morning? Maybe it was both mornings.) Well, tonight it’s time to do it all again- going out to dinner with some great friends to enjoy my two favorite red things- meat and wine.

As I write this around five in the afternoon I have to say, my birthday has been absolutely picture perfect so far. I went to work at six this morning for a conference call with our home office overseas. It was a review by what seems like the thirteenth of twenty-nine committees who we need to convince to approve the project I am working on. It’s hard to keep them all straight, but I think this one was for The Committee to Make Sure Your Power Point Slides Have Pretty Graphics. Well, we passed it with flying colors, thanks to the picture of the Keystone Kops we used as background for the organizational chart.

Then, when I got home, two miracles occurred. First, my sister remembered my birthday and sent me a card- and it was a great card, too! She hasn’t remembered my birthday since they cancelled Gilligan’s Island. Then, I asked my wife to surprise me with my birthday gift, and she gave me something I actually liked and that I hadn’t already bought for myself! We are on a roll!

Boy, I gotta’ be dreaming; don’t wake me up; I’ll probably arouse wishing I’d hurry up and die.