Come on, you alien geneticists!
Get crackin’! Homo S. II is a bust!
You absolutely must start splicing
our chromosomes with alien DNA!
We’ve been waitin’ ages for an upgrade!
If you could work on the flight or fight
module; maybe shave a few molecules
off the violent action-reaction circuit,
That’d be great! Maybe reignite
the round-the-campfire-camaraderie
pilot light? Give our couch spud
genes the heave-ho. Hey! Jack in!
A little more ROM and RAM,
if you please, Mr. Melon Head.
Hey, you can have some of my hair.
It’s falling out anyway, and you grays...
Well, let’s just say you might wanna
doff the lamé space tights and
get mammalary once in a while
in proper simian style. Your arms are twigs!
There, I said it. Neck too. How the heck
does it support that big melon of yours?!
Just sayin’, You might wanna clone a
few sapiens genes, splice ’em into your own.
Hey! You got any common sense
in any of those cranial cookie jars
you keep in the fridge? Most homo s.
citizens could use a pinch in the mix.
Just sayin’. Super-size my pia mater, dude;
I’ll give you a little attitude,
maybe a set of weights to start you off.
Yer gonna need a sense of humor down here, too.
By all means, help yourselves to the cow parts.
The blood, plasma, the works, Any giblets
you wanna avail yourselves of. Brains?
Well, maybe not the brains. They’re primitive.
Old technology to you boys, eh? Say,
you don’t suppose I could get an upgrade
on this old chassis? Maybe better fittings
and valves? I’m starting to creak like the tin man.
The golden years suck! Homo S. II sucks!
We’ve raped the planet, man! Maybe we
should blow ourselves up and give the cockroach
a chance. Maybe a layin’ on of alien hands...
