"You find that man!"

No, I'm not quoting Dr. Richard Kimble from the 1993 Warner Bros. movie "The Fugitive". You find that man! were the last words I heard before I high-tailed it out of that old Nazi TV studio in Cydonia after my aborted Mars Broadcast #1 last month, Earth time. By the way, those words were spoken by a Reptilian we call "Liz" because she's nothing but a two-legged lizard to us Earthling bums who were marooned out here by those DNA-thirsty Grays.

Liz would have had my ass in a wringer if she'd have caught me broadcasting the truth about their little Martian San Quentin. But I escaped on their asses and I'm fairly safe and secure again in the bowels of the ancient Martian capital. If you can call this being safe, wandering around the nether regions of Mars looking for another place to broadcast my conspiracy shit to the rest of the solar system.

The reason I looked like I was in a room on Earth was because the Nazis once had a gold-mining operation on Mars and that so-called TV studio was where they broadcasted their daytime soaps from. Back in '39 Hitler was crazy about soap operas, long before the Americans even dreamed of broadcast television. Nazi soaps were even racier than the current Mexican soaps on Earth and that pretty much tells you why Nazi Germany was going to hell in a handbasket long before Rommel swapped tank shots with Patton in North Africa. Rumor has it that Hermann Goering often made cameo appearances on these soap operas wearing a tutu and that he later became a Martian star in the 1940 made-for-Nazi-TV movie, "Days of Whine and Poses", as a cross-dressing character named Bunny Malloy.

But here I go again, getting off the goddamn track. Just thinking about Reptilians and Grays and Nazis in the same afternoon has me all bollixed up.

Anyway, Liz and Co. might think that they'll find that man! but they've got another think coming if they think for one minute that I'm going back to that TV-studio trap they set for me. Hell, if I can swipe a whole box of Oh Henry! candy bars from a U.S Air Force PX on the dark side of the moon and then use a couple lead slugs to hop a subway train to the Sea of Tranquility I can certainly filch a few cables and a portable camera from a few shitheads with Nazi glory on their brains and set up another studio here in the Mars underground.

And then we'll see who has the last word.