My decision to never return to Earth will no doubt get screwed up by fate. Nothing delivers a death blow to your dreams like the fickle hand of fate. But fate couldn't dish out all the dog shit it dishes out to Earthlings on a regular basis if it weren't for the helping hand of other Earthlings who couldn't care less about anything that isn't all about them.You know what I mean. You know what I'm talking about. Earth's human population is chock full of pricks and Hard Hearted Hannahs who have nothing better to do than to be the fly in your ointment. Being the cause of your failure or your disappointment trips their triggers almost as much as it does the triggers of the terrestrial and celestial powers-that-be who run planet Earth like their own personal amusement park.
No, I'm not talking about the Illuminati now. Everybody wants to blame the Illuminati. Leave the Illuminati out of this. Just like the false gods who pretend to be our creators and rightful controllers, the goddam Illuminati only know how to pull our strings. Whether or not we dance to their tune is entirely up to us. What often passes for free will among us seems to be the mere freedom to say "no" to the traps and pitfalls in life and nothing more. But I digress.
I'm talking about regular, everyday people, here. Citizens. Moms and dads and doctors and neighbors and truck drivers and movie stars and the guy who sells you cracked corn down at the feed store. I'm talking about the average Joe and Jane of contemporary Earth culture. The limelight-loving bastards and bitches who'd sell their own mothers to get ahead. Shit smears who masquerade as human beings. The guy next door. The woman across the isle from you in the supermarket. Mortal man and mortal woman who sell their souls to corporate America every damn day and who dance the jig whenever Madison Avenue strikes up a tune on the tube. The everyday powers-that-be whose earthbound power to hire, fire, intimidate, cajole, wheedle, court, marry and kill you keeps you in that matrix of living the loser life.
You know who I'm talking about. The shithead at work you confide your worst fears to and who summarily dismisses you with an impatient, "So?". The clerk who takes your heard-earned money and who hands you back your change without even looking at you because, as far as he or she is concerned, you don't even exist. Only your money is real. That's right, I'm talking about the townsfolk you run into you at the store and who come up to you and ask you how someone else you both know is doing. Who cares about you? These are the flesh-and-blood grim reapers who begin executing you as soon as you're able to open a door for yourself and exit your world of right and wrong to enter their upside down world where being a selfish and aggressive bad-ass is the key to success in life.
Hell, I have no idea where I'm going once I manage to escape from this Martian Sing-Sing the Grays and Reptilians have set up for Earthling abductees they don't know what to do with. If I manage to escape on their asses at all. But one thing I do know for sure. I wouldn't go back to Earth to take a shit.
