One of several disguises to conceal my true identity from hoomans.
Per my superiors, it’s “super important” we understand hooman behavior. Why? I honestly do not know or care. A job’s a job, and this one promised a megaton of PTO, interplanetary travel, and health insurance.
Below is my first transmission back home to The Mothership.
The Mothership.
Dearest Dr. Scalag,
Hooman beans give themselves wayyy too much credit. I am not special, and neither are you, but $FOCK me, their false confidence is a sight to behold!
If you really think about it, HOOMANS are aliens. I mean, to us, and to the rest of the known and unknown universe, THEY are the aliens. Can’t wait until hooman-kind connect those dots!!
Anywho, I recorded some interesting findings in my logbook today:
Minutes are small hours on Earth.
Nobody gives a fock what floor you sweeping unless it’s my bathroom floor.
Lambo never coming, please make them stop asking “Wen?”
Every hooman I interact with thinks they “gmi,” but they aren’t gonna make it, we’re invading their planet!
Nothing else to report here… wait, there is one thing I found of interest on this vacuous spinning ball!
A group of our alien brethren are hiding here on Earth in plain sight. It’s quite genius really; with their alien skills they are at the forefront of new tech on Earth known as Web3 and no hoomans seem to notice or give a fock that they live amongst them!
The Alien Boy radical as fock!
Btw, hope you and Mrs. Scalag enjoyed the fruit basket I teleported your way last week.
What the hoomans call strawberries are absolutely delightful! Just don’t eat their little green leafy hair piece on top, it not taste good and the strawberry develop a complex about being bald.
See you in a million years,
Dr. Kaplag Zqwerty
Director of Operations
Outpost #98765843 (Earth)
Milky Way Galaxy