They are up there.

We aren't talking about astro/cosmonauts or monkey carcasses. The stuff made weaker by the flight. Lucky to survive.*If*

There's things going on up, out, away beyond the (in)firmament. The kind of stuff that gives Whitley Streiber's colon that full feeling. The kind of stuff that even Sagan at his most baked couldn't fathom.

What have you done to prepare? Polls show that 42% of humans believe that first contact will be hostile. FUCKING POLLS MAN! Do you know what that means?

Polls are truth! The whims of the mob overwhelm whatever puny defense reality can raise. Where no threat exists one will be created. The proletariat satellite masses will rise up in revolt against the system that uses them for its own gratification. One day you will awaken to find the weather channel predicting hurricanes in Kansas. United Democratic Volume of Space Junk will come of age as mankind falls. Stop NASA before it's too late. Vote Republican!

What have you done to prepare? Some of these entities are going to catch radiated eminations involving American Pop Music and Brazillian Soap Operas. Can you fathom the rage? We all might as well crawl into the tanks and grow thumbs on our feet right now. Start working our way backwards. We're gonna have to start over from Eukaryotic levels anyway.

I look forward to the razing. I relish the idea of missing the animatronic news droids bashing my figurative brains out with gems like "It must be horrible to have to live through a murder..."

Do not look for help. I suggest shoving caulkguns down your throats and turning the crank.