Tonight, however, the Captain has taken his mighty vessel beyond our planet’s atmosphere to give me a beautiful view of Earth as I conduct my interview.
My guest (well, technically, I am his guest as this spacecraft belongs to his home world) is Glorkovian author V’log bi Zwim-gla.
“Please call me V, Austin,” he asks when we are introduced. “I’d rather not spend the evening listening to your mangled attempts at pronouncing my name.”
V penned the controversial novel, Still Looking For Intelligent Life On Earth, which chronicles his nearly thirty years as a guest on our planet. The book is currently at the top of The New York Times Bestseller List, the #1 seller on Amazon, and will be adapted into a screenplay for a film to be produced and directed by Steven Spielberg.
It has also been the topic of monologue jokes on the late night talk shows, spurred fiery debates on news shows, and led some people to demand that the author be banished back to his home planet.
I asked V why he would write a book that so scathingly mocks the planet that took in him and his fellow refugees when they fled the civil war that has nearly destroyed Glorkovia.
“I’m a writer, as I’m told you are,” he replied with disdain. “I write what I see, what I know, what is right there in front of me every day. Yes, the people of Earth, and more specifically those of Maine, were kind enough to grant my people asylum, but that doesn’t mean I have to turn off my brains and not observe the obvious.”
How can V believe that there is no intelligent life on the planet? Clearly, he’s just acting like a jerk to generate controversy and sell more books, right?
“No, it is not a clever ruse to sell books,” he snaps and stares out at the great blue Earth outside of our portal. “That beautiful planet is overrun by idiots, morons, simpletons, and freaks. It frustrates me to no end to know that my home world is being destroyed in a civil war, while this world is being destroyed simply because its dimwitted inhabitants don’t know how to take care of it and treasure it.”
It was clear that this visitor from a distant galaxy was no alien to being a prick. As a Modern Philosopher, I wanted to focus on the conversation and dig into his Deep Thoughts. The New Yorker in me, however, wanted to kick his ass.
I decided to give him back a little of what he was dealing out from his high horse, and asked why he had bothered to write a nearly 1000 page novel for a planet of people who lacked any form of intelligence.
“I assumed I would go to your multitude of mental institutions and read my masterpiece aloud to the patients as they drooled on each other and played in their feces,” was his snarky reply.
That’s when it became clear to me. Up here on the Mothership, V was a superstar, an intellectual giant revered by his people. He was in his element, and loved looking down at our planet almost as much as he loved looking down upon humans.
But on Earth, he was an oddity, the outsider, the one who had to fit in and adapt. V was the big shot writer, who, when put on the spot, couldn’t come up with an insult better than a poop and drool joke.
Like most close-minded individuals, regardless of home world or brain count, he lashed out at those who did not bow down to him and think of him as the cat’s pajamas.
I just smiled. Clearly, V was uneasy with this. “Do you have that dopey look on your face because you are wetting yourself right now?”
I smiled even more and turned my attention to the amazing view.
Still Looking For Intelligent Life On Earth is available at a bookstore near you…