Mars Replies
The unborn Martian answered my letter (by telepathy, as all Martians do). Sounds nuts, but he has some time-travel deal going on, so it was apparently no problem for him to respond before his birth or even conception. (“All Martians are still just ideas at this point – so nothing really to argue about,” says he).
Of course I tried to hit him up for stock tips because … time travel … but no dice. He kept the conversation to the Official Donald J. Trump Wacky Pack Collection I sent up there last week. “No worries about cults on Mars,” says he — “too cold for any of that nonsense.” But he told me to keep collecting the fantasy cards of the reimagined short-fingered vulgarian. On Mars these silly cartoons eventually become valuable negotiable capital like Pokemans and Yugios.
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The cartoon to get depicts the blobby orange Park Avenue hillbilly whisperer with extraordinarily large, manly hands standing in a shower. He is surrounded by big, strong men with tears in their eyes, and on the shower floor is a glistening bar of soap.
The bearer of this coveted card may at some point on the time-space continuum redeem it for a free hamberder and side of covfefe at all three locations of Elon’s WTF Scratch Qitchen in the SpaceX Impact Crater, where holograms of the X guy himself serve you and crack pedo-Neptunian jokes.
[Note to Senator Chuck Grassley: Please quit serving me “UFO Inquiry” subpoenas over these posts. The Martian is a standard literary device used by authors who would otherwise only be talking to themselves. The Martian did not “fly here” in anything or in any way disrupt the “radar electronics systems” of F-14s over the Bering Strait].
