the shamptonian institute

Some of you humans may recall various stories and snippets that ran recently about former astronaut Edgar Mitchell, the sixth man to walk on the Moon, who has been saying for years that aliens in fact do exist. The Discovery Channel had a good chat with him on their blogs recently. Or perhaps you’ve seen the interview with rocket scientist David Adair, who built a fusion containment engine at the age of seventeen and solved math equations with Stephen Hawking.

Basically, a growing number of reputable scientists, pilots and astronauts are saying that the US government has been hiding knowledge of extraterrestrial life for decades. To many, this alleged cover up will come as no surprise. However, the real tragedy is that if indeed there has been a cover up to hide knowledge of beings from other planets, it means that we’ve been missing out on the opportunity to chat over a cup of coffee or knock back a bevy with our interstellar brethren, and to ultimately engage our unearthly visitors in a healthy, earthy debate about society, politics, or perhaps even universal health care.

[the latter of which may coincidentally need to be renamed as pre-existing intergalactic copyrights on the phrase universal health care may prevent its use here on planet earth. We’ll need to check with the intergalactic copyright office and make sure we aren’t infringing on any already-registered, interstellar rights which subsequently may have already levied upon us some hefty planetary penalties]

But back to my point and query: why should the government get to hog all the face time with our so-not-new-by-about-fifty-years intergalactic friends?

I don’t know about you, but I for one would welcome the chance to get together for a friendly visit with beings from distant solar systems we don’t even know about yet; not to bombard them with all the esoteric questions they must get tired of hearing from all the other planets they meet for the first time mind you, but instead invite them over for a barbecue or dinner party, to share photos from our vacations or play a game of scrabble, and to inquisitively ask (politely probe if you will) for advice on how to help humanity, like how to help feed the hungry, improve living conditions, cope with weapons/war, and in general, advice on how we can relieve suffering and help our civilization evolve.

Of course, any sensible sentient being may argue that engaging our civilization may not be such a good idea, a feeling akin to the concept of Westphalian Sovereignty; of which you may be more familiar with by it’s proxy in popular culture, or what is known in the pantheon of Star Trek as the Prime Directive, which dictates that “there can be no interference with the internal affairs of other civilizations.”

And perhaps after seeing what our governments have done (allegedly and on the public record) with unknown craft/technology, and the intent to use it destructively against ourselves/mankind, we’re simply just regarded by any interstellar onlookers as being too immature on the time line of evolution. So instead, they’ve sailed through the solar wind and steered clear of mankind’s sales pitch for sharing their knowledge or technology with us.

Do you ever wonder what sort of approval ratings earth society in general might have right now among various intergalactic circles, oops, I mean gravitationally-influenced ellipses? If they’re anything like the ratings of the 43rd President of the United States of America (Earth, 2008 AD; Gregorian), then as empathic, sentient beings I suspect that they may have the inclination to spare us the humiliation of our civilization’s paltry praise. And unfortunately, this low interest in contacting or engaging mankind is something the Fed can’t fix.

But just like wall street, it’s based on expectations and perceptions. It’s just a dip in the universal market, the interplanetary exchange, that I believe we can fix, collectively, as a global civilization, because I firmly believe every human being is good at their core, that every child is born with empathic innocence.

In any event, including this closing, as a member of the ambiguous term ‘media’, I am formally extending an open invitation for any beings from outer space to contact me directly so we can get together and hang out. I’m open to anything, too, whether it’s a startling and hair-raising surprise “boo!” from the backseat of my car or an impromptu abduction on a dimly lit park trail. Just be careful if it’s wet out; I don’t want to slip and fall.

This is all, of course, if you have time. My schedule, while moderately full of the requisite hustle and bustle (in human standards of course), is probably a bit more flexible then a space-hopping extraterrestrial who’s got to get back to a family, a mortgage, or a meeting in just a few light years.