Mark
ALBRACHT
Alien life of the party
In all politeness, intergalactic introductions are in order
If the news of microscopic
martian worms comes as a surprise to
any Earthlings under age 30, I’m
guessing that they are pretty alone in
their amazement. Why? Because
we’re the Star Wars generation.
Preceding generations’ fairy tales
consisted of gingerbread houses and
gingerbread men; of witches and
wicked stepmothers; of a little blond
trespasser who
ate porridge and
vandalized
furniture. That
her victims were
clothes-wearing,
talking, nuclear
family-ized
Kodiaks was
only happen
stance and that
fact brought no
objections from the generations that
listened to the stories.
Granted, Generation X has been
sufficiently inundated with the same
tales, but the fact is, for us, these
stories are only second hat to the
greatest stay ever told. It’s a story
that includes aliens and robots,
spaceships and light sabers, rebels
and stormtroopers. That Han Solo
must dispose of an iguana-ish bounty
hunter named Greedo with a single
shot from his blaster is a given and
we don’t give a second thought to the
half-pound Yoda lifting Luke’s X
Wing from the bog with a simple
flutter of his hand.
In play and in daydreams we’ve
prepared for alien visitation all our
lives. We’ve wanted to harbor our
own E.T. amongst the stuffed animals
in our bedroom closets and to take
him trick-or-treating as a gimpy,
mumbling ghost. Though we’ve
enthusiastically watched the imperi
alistic invasions of Earth by aliens in
such movies as "V” and (I cringe)
"Independence Day,” we’ve never
dreaded the possibility of our own
close encounters. Our thoughts in
that regard have always been
accompanied fay excited anticipation.
It is interesting that the martian
microbe news comes at a time when
pop culture's fad du jour bates the
composite mug of decades worth of
alien abduction stories. The creepy,
triangular, bubble-eyed, slit-mouthed
slit-nosed face is instantly recogniz
able as it appears on everything
nowadays from T-shirts to car
windows to skateboards to your
roommate’s grandmother’s tattoo.
Theses things are no longer frighten
ing, they’re marketable.
Along with this niche of fashion
accessory, the popularity of “Inde
pendence Day” and “The X-Files”
leads me to a theory that accounts for
the timeliness of the martian discov
ery and mainstream space creature
merchandising. I say we’re being
tested and/nr buttered up for the big
news. Maybe we’re already not
alone. Maybe someone wants to
know how well the idea of alien
company sits with John Q. Public.
Will he freak or will he be down with
it? What is our. society’s tolerance
level toward extremely illegal aliens?
Of course this theory isn’t without
its wrinkles. For example, what sort
of response is “ID4” looking for?
The ticket sales suggest that Ameri
cans like aliens even when they blow
up everything in sight and strangle
Brent Spiner to death with long, grey
tentacles. Who knows what this
means from the testing and buttering
up point of view, but on the response
side, $300 million domestic was
probably the answer they were
looking for.
It’s a whacked out theory, I know.
A lot of people will probably choose
not to concur, but that’s OK. If I’m
right, everyone will know by the end
of this century whether aliens have
been pulling into the celestial rest
stop blown as Earth and doing their
eerie alien-like things. If I’m wrong,
then I’ll get old and die before I
really know for sure that I'm wrong,
so it’s kind of a no-lose situation.
Let’s just say for the sake of
humoring me that I am right— that
pretty soon a very large number of
extraterrestrial families are going to
come swooping down in their star
hopping Winnebagos and say, “Hey
Lucy, I’m homer It stands to reason
that quite a few of my fellow *
Earthlings will be upset, for whatever
reason. Theymay fcel less special
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concerning their role in the universe.
They may feel slighted in the fact
that after thousands of years of being
sole beneficiaries of everything in
creation, they have to share their
world—a revelation much akin to a
child's discovery that not everyone
likes him as much as mom and dad.
The people with this sort of
outlook should take heart Having
alien compadres is much better than
being alone in the universe. First of
all, you will be able to go into outer
space and see new planets. That is, if
they’re nice enough to allow that. I
imagine they are, although they will
probably do it in a politeness similar
to when a friend offers you a ride in
v his brand-new convertible BMW.
They both want you to enjoy the ride,
but they also want you to seethe with
envy. That just seems like what they
would do.
Very likely, aliens will have a lot
to talk about Sure, they'll fill us in
on the tidbits of their technology and
their knowledge of the universe, but
the real excitement will come when
you invite one to your cocktail party.
They are certain to be the bald
headed, four-fingered life of the
evening. You could ask them if they
have hazing at the college fraternities
on their planet and if they know of
any good mixed drinks.
Sex with aliens is probably very
good. It certainly seems so for them.
Reportedly, whenever they have
someone aboard their craft, they can
hardly wait to start doing it with
them. Of course the abductees always
return traumatized, but at the very
least, the door is opened to several
new sexual positions, I’m sure.
The point is, we shouldn’t
automatically assume that we won’t
enjoy the company of space beings.
The martian earthworms are just the
beginning, from there the social skills
of extraterrestrials will dramatically
increase. You can count on that. I
think it’s our duty as cohabitants of
this universe to greet our visitors
with a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed
“hello.” It’s only polite. Besides,
their version of “die finger” might
very well take the shape of a very
large and unruly ray gun.
Albrecht is a junior philosophy
major and a Daily Nebraskan
cobaiist
The jitters can help juices
Doyou ever get that sickening feel
ing that whatever you do is just not
going to be good enough? And that
nomatter how much people may swoon
. and fawn over.
something you
do, it's just so
they don't have to
look you in the
face and tell you
that it's the most
worthless piece
of garbage
they’ve ever
seen.
- Well, that
is exactly how I felt about two minutes
before I sat down to write this column.
■ All of a sudden I was bombarded by a
thousand nagging fears involving me,
a pen and a piece of paper. And what’s
worse is I almost caved into these para
lyzing head tripe .
I couldn’t help but think that every
thing 1 thought of was completely un
original and sleep-inducing to the gen
eral public.
My fear dictated to me an entire list
of improbable possibilities. And then,
in a flash, a corner ofmy mind reached
a mantra. I resolved to face aid per
haps conquer my painfully antagonis
tic fear.
u—
Fear can make an otherwise overwhelm
ing experience more tolerable when it is
respected, and used as a cautionary tool,
rather than a machine of hysteria.”
I mean, who really cares if my gram
mar is a little off or no one seems to
respond to what I’m trying to say? I
am only trying to raise myself beyond
a small morsel of journalistic medioc
rity.
I suppose that by now my fear-in
duced rant is lacking the substance of
a full-blown column. I suppose the rea
son I have been distracted from some
major social bandwagon issue is be
cause to me this experience has proved
much more relevant.
That is not to say another more so
cially relevant topic would not have
proved more fruitful, but for now I
can’t seem to shake these nervous jit
ters. I feel as though it is my first day
at a new school and I accidentally wore
bright pink underwear under my white
cotton pants.
I have been consumed with the same
sort of performance anxiety that can
plague a mind when trying to impress
a potential new lover at some roman
tic crucial point.
I feel as though every nuance is be
ing judged by a critical audience of my
peers and not just by a date over a lousy
dinner.
Now, as Inear the end of my rant I
reach an epiphany. I realize now what
these efforts have produced. I have re
alized that even the most nauseating
fear can lead you through an otherwise
unspectacular performance.
i nave Become a guru oi me no
fear” feeding frenzy. I realize that fear
needn’t be an awe-inspiring foe. In
stead, fear can force a performance out
of even the most unwilling.
I believe that even the most nerve
racking experience can be overcome
with a fitde perseverance and stamina.
Fear can make an otherwise over
whelming experience more tolerable
when it is respected and used as a cau
tionary tool, rather than a machine of
hysteria.
„ It seems that my fear has produced
a substantial column out of a rant and
a crazy fear guru out of a nervous col
umnist.
I have reached the finale of my col
umn that began as a blank piece of pa
per and a big hole where my creativity
had been replaced by a vague and para
1 iseoffear.
persevered through a thou
sand unsubstantiated fears to complete
my first column. I believe that hence
forth I wih not have to struggle as much
to finish, my next column because I
have learned the respect and persever
ance necessary to harness fear as a tool
that can work with me.
Biss is i sophomore psychology
major and a Daily Nebraskan col
umnist.
