My children are aliens. I know this because they simply could not have inherited their behaviors from me. Wife, maybe. Perhaps wife is an alien too. Mother-in-law: definitely. Seriously though, two camps of alien awareness exist in science; one group believes that extraterrestrial life would be benevolent, sharing wisdom and advanced technology with humankind. The other group believes that aliens, armed with photon torpedoes and laser guns, will descend upon Earth with the goal of its entire destruction. From Star Trek: TNG to Predator, aliens do indeed, exist. I still haven’t figured out which of these my children are. The main point of all these examples fail to illustrate the idea that human destruction will inevitably be caused by humans themselves, see Battlestar Galactica.
Not understanding time in this galaxy, son lives on his own schedule. He eats at the wrong time, does not sleep when he should, and takes his sweet ass time getting ready to go somewhere in the car. He simply doesn’t understand the word, “hustle.” Daughter overreacts to everything wife and I say to her; she punishes herself before we get a chance to ground her for her behavior, and when we tell her to do something, it takes her two minutes to actually begin doing it. Oh wait! Maybe she did inherit that one from me. It’s just easier to blame aliens for my kids’ behavior than accept responsibility. People, I warn you…examine your children closely. Beware, my friend, beware.