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It is only now, at the turn of the millennium, on this, the first day of January, 2001 -- for unlike the greater proportion of the crawling masses of humanity I did not incorrectly usher in the twenty first century and the third millennium the year previously -- that I determined to sit before the monitor, and placing my fingers to the keyboard, to then set down in a less fallible data retrieval system the story of my humble life upon this spaceship called Earth.
This is being done, mostly, at the behest of my friend and neighbor, who has often suggested my undertaking this course of action; a course of action I have loathed to embark upon, to date, for I have ever been of the opinion, gentle reader, that there is very little which has taken place during my sojourn -- in which I have been directly involved, that is to say -- and, unlike those of my fellow men and women given over to bombast and pomposity, I hesitate to bore you with the details of the life of a person who has done little and to whom little has happened.
Recently, however, I found myself embroiled in a series of events and escapades into which I was precipitated head first, and quite against my insufficient volition, and which lasted only a matter of several days, but which culminated the very evening before this day in a glorious contretemps that would be the envy of any donnybrook or tavern brawl, and in which I found myself the victor by the simple expedient of being the sole survivor.
Contrarywise to most great events, this one did not start out with an insignificant happenstance or piece of triviata, but rather with the presentation, to me, of incontrovertible proof of the three most controversial issues of the last quarter of the century which is dead but mere minutes as I sit here manipulating electrons and phosphor glow in cyberspace: the conspiracy theorists are right in that spaceships are real and Earth is being visited by an alien intelligence for a mysterious and malevolent purpose; there is a Bigfoot; Elvis is alive.
All these things I know, gentle reader, beyond any shadow of a doubt, for those two august gentlemen were my jailers, and it was between them I sat in the U.F.O. the day the Grays decided to take me.