Can Whoever Is Driving the UFOs Come Pick Me Up?

I don’t know about you, but I prefer to spend my free time these days dissociating. After a long day of work, I look forward to plopping on my couch, spoon feeding myself some mac n’ cheese, and listening to a podcast like Normal Gossip that allows me to stare “lobotomy-chic [and] dead-eyed” into space without thinking too deeply about why I hate the American government. That’s my idea of fun. Though, I think I’ve discovered the next best thing to mentally choosing not to process anything while still physically existing in a shithole: I would also like to physically opt out of Earth by way of UFO.

Earlier this week, the House of Representatives subcommittee on intelligence and counterterrorism held the first congressional hearing about UFOs (or, the new moniker they’ve come up with, UAPs: unidentified aerial phenomena) in more than fifty years. For over an hour, congressional representatives questioned the Undersecretary of Defense for Intelligence and Security and the Deputy Director of Naval Intelligence, who showed footage of unearthly objects hovering in the sky without explanation before taking things offline and scurrying behind closed doors. I imagine they then opened a fat manila folder stamped with CLASSIFIED in red ink.

While we really didn’t get any juicy revelations or insurmountable proof of alien colonies spying on earth, I left the hearing feeling hopeful. Excited, even. If UFOs are real, and there’s even a minuscule chance of extraterrestrial life, I would like to go with them far far away. Consider this my official announcement that I am open to a consensual and gentle kidnapping by space zaddies.

Think about it: Wouldn’t it be nicer to be abducted by aliens than to have to deal with edge-lords like Madison Cawthorn, new idiot apparent of DARK MAGA? I sincerely would prefer not to listen to another conservative say another stupid fucking word about how the Biden administration does not care about babies, then vote not to authorize extra production of baby formula in the middle of a baby formula shortage. I do not want to spend another day laughing and crying in terror as state after state drops new, more restrictive abortion bans, and pregnant people are forced to travel upwards of fifty miles to the nearest abortion clinic. In fact, I think having a delightful cup of galactic tea with my new colonizers (or perhaps even boning one?) would be much preferred to having to watch Amber Heard, a domestic violence victim, drowning publicly in pro-Johnny Depp sentiments.

Although the public hearing revealed that military officials have never found an ounce of proof of aliens in its 400 UFO sighting reports on record, here’s me hoping that what might be a drone, a bird, or even just a lost balloon is actually my ride. My sweet martian homies—coming to pick me up for a swift exit from the burning economy so I can dissociate in peace.