Do Aliens Get Old?

Over the past week I have been busy.  I do not just write about UFO news and Alien Philosophy.  I also have a personal life.  It may not be much of one.  Between my business, writing, and shuttling my kids around, there is little time left over for me.  But once in a while I get out and do some things with the guys or with Mrs. M.

Last week I was fortunate to go to a rock concert, a wedding, and a softball tournament.  Fun times in suburbia.  But it all made me start to feel old, for the first time.  Forget having had cancer this year and nearly dying from pneumonia, a few years ago.  Forget my age or the way my feet feel when they hit the wooden floors in the morning.  What made me feel old was the things I did for fun.  And of course, that made me wonder, do aliens get old?  Do they feel old?

All aliens look the same to us.  Is that racist?  Maybe it is alienist.  I would hate to be thought of as an alienist.  History will judge me.  Moving on.  In artist's renditions, aliens always appear to have nice, tight skin.  I have never heard of a wrinkly old alien.  Perhaps that is because the ones who travel here are part of some sort of Space Force which only admits young people.  The old ones get booted out and end up getting second careers as security guards.  It's a living.

We do not know what "young" is, to aliens.  Maybe on another planet, "young" is anyone under the age of 1000 Earth Years.

Maybe aliens who visit us are older, more experienced galactic navigators but they have had some work done.  You know, a little nip here, a tuck there.  They are probably able to do that without surgery, though.  I would bet that our surgical methods are barbaric to aliens.  Think back to the days of leeches and hacksaws and you will know what I mean.

Do Aliens go to Concerts?

So I am standing in the Fairfield Theater Company, watching an old favorite, The Lemonheads - you know, It's a Shame about Ray and Into Your Arms?  Suddenly, a wave of dysphoria comes over me.  I am light headed.  I am dizzy.  I need to sit.  I need to use the bathroom.  I am an old man.  When did this happen?

I used to be able to hang.  Standing in a General Admission crowd has always tweaked me, a bit, because I do not like people bumping into me.  Someone always hits my elbow and spills my beer on my shoes.  And then there is that jerk who makes his way to the front of the crowd and decides that the best spot to stand is right in front of  you.  I would so much rather have an assigned seat.  This was probably my last General Admission show.  I am too old for that stuff, if ever I was young enough in the first place.

The Lemonheads
The Lemonheads
Mrs. M. and I made our way to the back of the theater.  We tried to find a seat in the balcony but they were all taken.  We ended up leaning against a high-top table.  The band was not what they used to be.  I think the lead singer is the only original member and he did so many drugs that, well, his best days are behind him.  But then, perhaps one could say the same about myself.

Being out of the crowd, with nothing to think about but the music, I began to imagine aliens doing something like this.  I pictured people on another planet, short Greys with giant heads and no clothing, standing in a big crowd, bopping their heads to hits from their youth.  It sounds ridiculous.  But there we were, doing the same thing.  Is this a uniquely Earthan thing?  And why do we do this?  Yes, the music sounds nice and it is cool to see someone perform it live.  But I would prefer doing it seated in my recliner, with a big wooden bowl of Doritos in my lap.

Would alien bands sell T-Shirts in the back of the theater?  Aliens would look silly wearing a Lemonheads shirt, when they do not seem to wear clothes in the first place.  It would be like wearing one of those visors from the 1980s where the brim was made of tinted plastic.  It did not keep the sun out of your eyes and did not cover your head.  What was its function?

I had one, when I was around ten, which also had little lights on it, powered by a nine-volt battery.  Yeah, I was a dork.  I admit it.  It is no wonder I grew up to be a software engineer (for a time).  I was "right out of Central Casting," as they say.

I am picturing two old aliens in the theater.  They have receding hairlines (yes they have hair in this scenario - roll with it) and pot bellies.  They are trying to finish their $7 cups of IPA (yes, even aliens drink terrible micro-brews).  They went there just to see Tommy Stinson, the opening act, who was great by the way.

Tommy Stinson
Tommy Stinson
During intermission, on their way out of the theater they stop at the schwag table and debate whether or not to buy something.  They see a shirt that reads, "Who the Hell is Tommy Stinson?"  One says to the other, "Yeah, Fredstkrk, it looks kind of cool but what is its function?  You do not need it to stay warm or to cover your genitals - cuz you don't have any, ha ha ha!  And besides, how would you ever get that giant head of yours through that tiny neck hole?"  And the other guy is like, "Bobskrtk, I have known you for thousands of years.  You are now my friend.  I appreciate you saying I have a giant head, but please never mention my lack of genitals again."

The show was on a Thursday night - perfect timing for middle-aged suburbanites to be out on the town, not.  I do not remember what time it got over but I am pretty sure I was asleep before I got into bed.  On the way home as I struggled to keep my eyes from flickering out, I wondered why I was torturing myself like this.  If aliens had the ability to travel from there to here would they be smart enough to go to bed at a reasonable hour on a school night?  I am pretty smart.  But yet, there I was in the back of a Volvo wagon driving down a dark, wooded road, trying to make conversation with another couple, hours past my bedtime.  Maybe I am not so smart.  Or maybe I am just getting old.

Here is a short, one minute video of Tommy performing, posted with permission:

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