News out of China is sort of like social commentary from the Vatican. It’s to be taken with a grain of salt.
So when I read about this latest UFO sighting- reportedly the eighth in the last four months- prompting an airport shut down . . . I shrugged.
If a “flat and tubular” object hovers around LAX or Kennedy leading to a diversion of flights, you have an unusual story . . maybe even provocative enough to jog most of us from our color coded candy coma.
But China plays war games over civilian airspace all the time. It’s a third world country with big kid toys. And when you consider this latest sighting took place in Inner Mongolia, you understand what is meant by mongoloid strength.
I would sooner believe the ghost of Genghis Khan has returned to the hood than buy the fact that ET wants anything to do with these people. So thank you China, for ruining my fantasy of an alien invasion.
Because I’d have a place in mind and some things I’d like to close out the world on should the aliens come packing heat.
It’s more a destination plan and a grocery list than a fantasy, truth be told. The destination would be Outer Banks- from the south end Kill Devil Hills all the way north to Corolla or anywhere in the fat, sandy middle . . I’m not picky once i get there.
A beach house. Tunes. And a grocery list.
There are the kitchen musts- blue cheese, bacon, olives, garlic, moonpies, plantain chips, san pellegrino, boston baked beans, hot sauce, limes and lemons, french bread and butter.
There are the understandable omissions like coffee, eggs and such. I mean, no reason to celebrate morning in America on the door step of Armageddon.
And then there are the no-duh propositions such as oysters, pork butt, heineken, bombay sapphire, chorizos, plantains.
The reality is I will never have occasion to spit shine this list in the event of an alien visit, since I don’t have any connections in the Pentagon and I don’t know Oprah.
Anyway, here is the extravagant end of a grocery list that never happens . . . since . . it’s . . China we’re talking about.
Pate de Foie Truffe au Cognac- I never understood pork quite the way I understood pork after this. It wasn’t dinner, but rather an event.
Kobe Beef- Last steak best steak, best steak last.
Beluga Caviar- Come on. I’m not riding off into the sunset with a bag of Doritos in my lap.
El Presidente Beer- Why not toss back the best beer in the world at the end of it?
Johnnie Walker Blue Label- What? You were expecting Boone’s Farm?
Quay vodka- I know, more happy place beverages. But it IS the end of the world and this IS the smoothest vodka I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting.
Cohibas- When these beauts aren’t rolling around on my tongue, I’ll be smoking marlboros and rolling cigarettes too, just for the sport of it.
Ehh . . . why torture myself.
An alien invasion seemed too good to be true.