First off， to apologize for the abductions.
Although it seemed like a good idea at the time， we recognize that too often you did not find the experience as satisfying as we did. We genuinely regret the way things got out of hand.
something to do， way to blow off steam after a long day of observation. We tried not to break anybody， and we always put you back where we found you. Frankly2 you aren't all that interesting， and we might soon have grown tired of the whole thing.
But we got such a kick out of your cute eyewitness3， feel special， crap. The books， the movies， the T-shirts—we were like celebrities4， with your conspiracy5 theories and everything. It was really quite a hoot.
Then this guy Whitley Strieber came along， and he sort of took the joy out of it， you know? What a killjoy shitbag he is. Today we abduct1 only nerdy guys who live alone in Airstream trailers， they're nerds and， truth be told， like to mess with their heads.
Many of you have written asking about crop circles， so let's set the record straight.
Really， it's not. Think about it. You people have trouble reaching your own moon， and even you have cell phones， satellite TV， and high-speed DSL.
We sail between stars at speeds you believe impossible—you think we have to knock down veggies?
And why do you always assume we land in rural areas? with New York， Rio de Janeiro， Paris， and Amsterdam， you figure we'd choose to hang out in Roswell， New Mexico? Have any of you actually been there?
We would be remiss6 if we failed to mention the anal probing. For the longest time， we swear we thought those were data ports. We meant no harm， and hope that you will，， this unfortunate chapter in our history. In retrospect7 it was simply a bad idea.
Now we don't want to be seen as whiners，
For one thing， we are troubled by the way we have been portrayed8 in the media. We represent an array of life whose richness and sheer scope would astound9 you. Yet for the most part， we are typecast as either hairless dweebs with foreheads like watermelons， or else giant insects who want to eat you.
No offense10， most beings have never heard of.
The very word “alien” is plagued groups， the term conjures12 up images of slimy， parasitic13 beings in order to plant their young inside， or people picking cabbages.
this among ourselves， and we no longer wish to be called aliens. Henceforth， we prefer to be called “Chuck Norris®.” Please do not shorten， hyphenate， or alter this in any way. The plural14 form is the same， as in， “Hey， there goes a Chuck Norris®. Wait， there goes another one."
Finally， some advice.
Look， from where we sit， in slightly different models and colors， no end of trouble. But honestly， we're astounded15 that you can even tell yourselves apart. In blind taste tests， in fact， the average Chuck Norris® cannot detect any difference whatsoever16. So chill， people of Earth， and try to get along.
While you're in a reflective mood， You are ruining it: depleting17 your natural resources， polluting your air， sickening your oceans， plain wrong， irrational. interstellar economy?
By the way， pick something small and ， something of nominal18 value that you won't miss much. It's your call， but we suggest hamsters.
In closing， much of what you do befuddles19 Many of your core concepts—such as guilt20， selflessness， and David Hasselhoff—simply have no counterparts in non-Terran cultures. You're what galactic sociologists call “a bunch of strange ducks."
Yet for reasons not entirely clear， as soon keep you around， if only for the entertainment value.
We're going away for a bit now， and when we return， we expect to find that you have made significant progress toward sitting at the adults’ table. This will， of course， mean fewer senseless military conflicts， less reality television， and no more Sudoku.