Yes, I am from outer space...

Humans,
I have tried to be patient with you. I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I have tried to tell myself that you are unevolved, in need of thought-directions and compasses for your personality morality that are free of your silly resurrection myths. I have tried to tell myself that the breasts of young women pushing through those tight sleeveless shirts (that also show delicious looking belly buttons as well), was reason enough not to destroy this planet. Not to mention some of your better genetic products, like Michael Moore and Jimmy Carter and Johnny Cash... but now, what with woody allens fall into scummy creepdom (And that hurt me more than I can admit -- I hate judging art by the life of the artist--for god's sake, Ezra Pound was a nazi for awhile, but no one talks about the man who invented Hemingways style, by editing all verbs and descirption, as a nazi. But the people who lived in his time did, as we do with woody allen, who will be remembered better than we think of him right now, should this planet have had a future, which I have decided it won't).

I am now forced to accept that you elect this Shrub, or tree, or Bush, or whatever the evil boofs name happens to be this election round (senior and junior or an actorish puppet or one of their fanatical followers, they're all the same to me), I am going to have to allow the greenhouse effect to continue. I don't want to, but the belly buttons of young girls (not to mention my housemates magical body and all her sweet, sweet curves), are now not enough for me to ground all the jets, stop the space shuttle runs through that destroy up to ten percent of the ozone simply because america arrogantly refuses to stop using liquid fuel (something even russia did decades ago). (this is from a bill moyers special that was, inexplicably, only aired at 2am in the morning).

Soon, a ship will come down from the skies and my brethren will beam me up, telling me, "We are sorry you were left here among all these mental diseases.... we have the cure here. Now, you can return to a sane planet, where decisions are made for the good of the planet, not the good of the top 2%, or for some illogical stance arising from a pre-scientific cosmology. Not to mention, we have better weed, too." OF course, they will say this in a much, much cooler way.
Just sign this...

Just sign this.... One of a zillion zillion zillion disgusted aleins watching you near apes wallow in lies.