I was watching the movie "Contact" again, the other day -- and I couldn't help thinking that perhaps we have it all wrong. This assumption that if an advanced life-form picked up our signals, it would respond, may not be an entirely realistic one. What I'm saying is, maybe they've heard us all along -- and just flat out don't care.

Or worse, perhaps they find our shrill little pleas for recognition highly annoying, like we do crying babies on airplanes, and they've simply cranked up their headphones for the in-flight movie -- so to speak -- and blotted our drooling, whining, screaming little asses out. In short; they've simply moved on and left us behind.

Much like we did the fat kid with the ever-defective bicycle chain. The one who could never keep up. Oh, we waited for a block or two, but sooner or later Darwin's theory would eventually kick in, and it was "See'ya later, Porky." Maybe we're just a cosmic version of that fat kid.

They probably waited for a couple million years, hoping we'd finally get our DNA chains to stop slipping. They watched us huff and puff and pump away until our little pink thighs were about to explode. But each time we appeared to be catching up...zzzzip, clink!

They probably pitied us each time the chain slipped off, watching sadly as our chubby little legs went into that spastic frenzy of action that always accompanied a chain slip (never in the field of human endeavor, has so much moved so fast, for no reason), but one can only get by on pity for so long a time. Finally, in the end, it was "See'ya later, Porky."

I would like to pause here and defend myself against any potential anal-retentive, ultra-sensitive, and/or politically-correct hate mail by stating unequivocally, and for the record; "I was that fat kid."

It is also very possible that our messages are not quite desperate enough to warrant their attention. We send copies of the constitution, Mozart's music, and old recordings of blues, country, and rock music. Given this...it's very possible they think we're simply mentally challenged, and, therefore, are afraid to respond.

Don't get me wrong, Mozart's music, along with all the other above examples, are truly wonderful things, but they're not exactly cries for help, are they? More like braggadocio, to me. I mean really, if your next door neighbor slipped his Second Place ribbon for the fifty yard dash from Third Grade under your door -- would you rush on over for a chat? No, you'd call in the kids, check all the doors and windows, and trigger the alarm system.

The merchant ship California ignored the Titanic's flares, thinking they were fireworks launched during a deck party. Therefore, If we really want these advanced life-forms to contact us, perhaps we'd better start acting like the tiny little goons we are, and start sending out a spat of unmistakable cries for help! Like samples of our diseases, pictures of our hungry and homeless, or an episode of "Suddenly Susan."

The French are only six thousand miles away from me, and yet I saw fit while visiting Paris to speak a louder version of English in the hopes that it would aid them in understanding me. The beings we are attempting to contact are at the very least, six million light-years away. I wasn't privy to the making of these recordings we've sent out, but I can't help thinking that they must be awfully f*cking loud. Maybe that's why they haven't responded -- they're dead; their heads have exploded.

Then again, maybe we shouldn't be trying to contact these beings at all. Who knows, they just might turn out to be a bunch of pissed off little suckers. I mean really pissed, like Susan Sarandon on PCP pissed. Who needs a billion of those to come 'a knockin?

Why we feel this sudden urge to contact another life-form, in itself, strikes me as curious. Hell, we can't get along with each other! Maybe that's it, maybe we're bored with hating the same old people, and would love nothing better than to have a whole new set of little green ones to hate. Or maybe it's the oldest reason in the book, the same reason which leads us to want children. We want a brand new form of life, one that doesn't know what @ssholes we truly are (yet).

Also, given our track record, it might not be such a good idea to be sending messages out there. We might want to consider the fact that there might be a cosmic justice system out there somewhere. If so, our messages may well have the same result as the dumb@ss who blabs too much in the bar. They might come down and bust our collective @sses, maybe throw a huge ankle-bracelet around the Equator. I'm sure we'd get a fair trial, but considering our history, I'd hate to be the poor sucker hired to defend us. You think Fung was on the stand for a long time? [ed. note: if you don't remember who Fung is, think O.J.]

"The rain forest, where is it, Mr. Earth?"

I enjoyed the movie "Contact." But I'm hoping that whatever life-form is receiving our signals, doesn't assume the same possibilities are contained within. I can see it now, somewhere, on some distant planet, two aliens are sitting in an exact replica of the Partridge family bus, humming 'I think I love you' and expecting something to happen.

"I told you Zoldar. We should have built the 'Lava lamp' and spun those hula-hoop things around it!"

If you liked this article, read more of his material at One Brick Short News.