In a universe teeming with possibilities, it seems that Earth has, at last, captured the cosmic community’s attention. And not in a good way. Reports are flooding in from obscure but reliable extraterrestrial sources that aliens have taken a not-so-friendly stance against Earth’s attempts to, shall we say, better ourselves amongst the stars.
According to Zarg, a highly-respected intergalactic journalist whose coverage ranges from nebulous celebrity getaways to the latest in asteroid fashion, our little blue planet has been placed under a light, casual embargo by an alliance known as the Galactic Quarantine Committee (GQC).
“It’s nothing personal,” Zarg transmitted via an untraceable and quite frankly unsettling satellite hack. “We just want to keep the neighborhood tidy. Your species has a bit of a reputation for, well, being overly enthusiastic about conquest and colonization. And your tweets are giving the entire galaxy secondhand embarrassment.”
These cosmic concerns came to a head when a series of mysterious malfunctions thwarted recent SpaceX launches. Elon Musk, part-time Mars enthusiast and full-time Twitter aficionado, was left confounded. “It’s as if some invisible hand keeps relocating the launch pad just a few meters to the left each time,” he lamented, while recalculating rocket trajectories using a napkin and a cocktail Leonardo DiCaprio may or may not have left at his last gala.
The GQC, with representatives from across the universe—including the enigmatic inhabitants of Saturn’s moon, who have reportedly patented superior ice cream technology—voted unanimously to temporarily prevent humanity’s bold escapades into space.
Tragically for Earthlings, our evolutionary achievements seem to fall short by about 3,000 light-years of universally agreed etiquette standards. According to the GQC’s 56,002-page rulebook (which is ironically only available in a language consisting entirely of interpretative dance), a race must first master interstellar diplomacy, advanced recycling protocols, and the art of not arguing about pineapple on pizza before being considered for ascension into interstellar travel.
In response to the quarantine, Earth’s governments have held an emergency summit. Leaders from around the globe appeared live on international television to collectively shrug and mutter phrases like, “We’re working on it,” and “We really should have paid attention to those UFO sightings.”
In a bid to salvage our status, a new global initiative has been announced. Humanity is on a mission to prove we’re not a species of clumsy toddlers attempting to eat dirt clods in relatively clean pajamas. This public relations task force consists of children under the age of six, dogs owned by Pixar animators, and the world’s foremost meme lords—a strategic PR move lauded for its understanding of alien humor and cuteness appreciation.
As plans continue to remedy Earth’s reputation, some SpaceX enthusiasts have decided to get creative. There are unofficial rumors of a crowdfunding campaign to send anyone willing to be an ambassador of goodwill into deep space armed only with a mixtape of whale songs, playlists of earth’s kindest celebrities, and, naturally, packets of instant noodles.
For now, Earth’s aspirations to become the Galaxy’s Next Top Planet will have to hover in orbit, like a drone parent at a school dance watching their astronaut offspring casually attempt the moonwalk.
So, while the interstellar jury remains out on our cosmic decorum, Earth’s fate rests on a fine cosmic balance beam. But one thing is certain: if any extraterrestrial visitors try to bop by, they’d better like pineapple on pizza.