I had always assumed the reason aliens attack Los Angeles in the movies is because Hollywood is fundamentally cheap and lazy. Or perhaps the invaders really do want homeless people. It could also be because that’s where most of the Scientology buildings are located and aliens don’t like them any more than we do.

Whatever the reason, this morning the invasion of Earth began in the City of Angels itself with surprise move that nobody saw coming. Not even me with my acute detachment from reality brought on by my constant exposure to comic books and television during my formative years which, ironically, gives me enhanced insight into the potential motives and methods of extra-terrestrials. Never helped me get laid, though.

“Millions of anchovies washed up dead early on Tuesday in the harbor area of Redondo Beach, California, just south of Los Angeles, puzzling authorities and triggering a cleanup effort.

Local television news footage showed the mass of dead fish, said by a police spokesman to be about a foot deep on the surface, choking the waters in and around dozens of private boat slips in the King Harbor Marina.

“We’re having millions of anchovies die off in our harbor,” Redondo Beach police Sergeant Phil Keenan told Reuters in a telephone interview. “At this point it’s an unknown reason.” – REUTERS

The battle plan, I’m guessing, is to deprive the human population of a popular pizza topping. Or make every wealthy, yacht-owning Angeleno sick to the point of puking. Either way, when the people of Earth are on the brink of chaos they’ll swoop in and conquer us.

And I for one will welcome our new alien masters. In fact I’ll probably volunteer for the human militia brigades that further subjugate the world. Then, when I’m older (like George Clooney’s age) and I’ve had a belly full of all the killing and injustice, I’ll turn on my alien overlords with a small band of fellow human turncoats. It will be a long and bloody fight (enough for a syndicated television show and spin-offs). And then once the war is over we’ll forever be remembered as heroes and women will want us to autograph their bare breasts at Comic-Con.

Yeah, I know. This is all very silly. Sometimes you have to be ridiculous just for the sake of it. It’s either that or I go back to my real life in the real world where a bunch of stinking, rotting fish are washing up on shore and my three-year-old is hitting me with a toy hammer and yelling “Bad daddy!”


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