The world of science is all excited about possible evidence that life might have once existed on Mars.
Most of the details confuse me, which wouldn’t surprise Mr. Mose, my high school biology teacher, who once scoffed: “You wouldn’t know a microbe from a mouse.”
He was right, but who cares? If I thought a mouse or a microbe was sneaking around my house, I’d call an Orkin hit man and zap the problem.
Because the scientists say this could be a major scientific find, I watched their news conference and the photos they showed of possible life on Mars.
What I saw appeared to be worms. Not live ones, of course, but fossils of worms that croaked billions of years ago.
That makes me wish I was a scientist. It must be great to get turned on by long-dead worms in an old meteorite. I can barely get pumped up by the raccoons that scatter my garbage in the driveway.
And the Mars worms appeared to have been extremely tiny. Not nearly as big as the kind of plump night crawler you’d need to catch a walleye in Wisconsin. Even a bait shop leech would have dwarfed them.
I would have been far more impressed if they had found Martian fossils of bald versions of Sharon Stone and Michelle Pfeiffer. (Don’t ask me why, but in the movies and on TV, beautiful female space aliens are always bald. That’s OK. If you think about it, did Sharon get where she is by way of her noggin?)
But the scientists say the discovery is mind-blowing. Why? Because it would be the first evidence that we are not alone.
For those with galactic vision, it is vital that we are not alone. Those with galactic vision seem to be lonesome sorts who look up at the stars and say: “Are we all there is?”
I don’t understand this attitude. I’ve never felt lonesome. Living in Chicago all my life, I know there’s always someone to argue with or try to mug me for my money.
And if you live anywhere on this planet, how can you possibly feel alone? If you are in Europe, you know that it is simply a matter of time until Germans show up to enliven your life by conquering your country. The same holds true for the Orient and Japan. We don’t need space aliens.
Especially old worms from Mars.
If this discovery proves anything, it is how lucky we are to be Earth creatures.
Little old worms. I scoff.
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Not Christie Brinkley. Not Sinatra or even Elvis. Not 80-inch TV sets. Not titanium-head, graphite-shaft golf clubs. Not evidence of cosmetic surgery that can take a man’s hair from his armpits and transplant it to his scalp. Absolutely amazing.
Not Disney World; luxury cruise ships; phallic implants; Dr. Scholl’s corn removers; pasta carbonara or goat cheese pizza and a fine cabernet wine; water beds; ribbed condoms; the makings of a perfect dry martini; or a lawyer who can put in the fix.
If old, petrified worms are all that Mars and the rest of the galaxy can offer, then I say, let them stay away. Who needs them?
Maybe this discovery will prove what I have always believed: That we Earth beings are the top of the universe’s creature development.
Just look at Jackie Bisset. Can you imagine another planet producing a better-looking babe?
Just look at Bill Clinton. Can your imagine another planet producing a leader who is more glib?
Oh, forget that.
The big question, if this discovery means there is life out there, is what does it mean to us?
My guess is that it will mean nothing.
That’s because the biggest challenge facing any Earth creature of the male persuasion is when he can have sex with someone of the female persuasion.
And the main challenge facing an Earth creature of the female persuasion is finding a male creature who isn’t a jerk.
Either way, old Mars worms aren’t going to do the job.
I’ll be honest. I’ve always thought that Yoda was a bit of a creep.
As for E.T.? Despite his bleatings, I don’t think he went home. He stayed here and was elected mayor of Chicago.
We must keep our eyes open.