Gotta Be. You'll See...
And the proof? He's plopped in front of that electronica Earth-bound call 'tee-veee'.
For the second nacht in a row.
Gotta be aliens, doncha think?!? I mean here is a man [? Pen??] whom for better than two decades of life hath not partaken in the visual mind-numbery of the idiot box [of course we've already covered the fact that FELICITY and The Gilmore Girls don't really count...] aka electronic babysitter aka 900 channels of simultaneous commercial advertisement device, and now not only is our poor Swanboi [my regards, Mademoiselle...] glomeroned to the damned thing for multi-sport, multi-night, multi-brain cell (had he possession thereof off the bat; debatable, that. The whole bird-brain thingie..) deadening, but also-- ALSO, I tell ya-- playing Wii video games on the Evil satelite-radio-frequency-recieving device!!!
SEND HELP!!! Call Jim Jones! Beg, and beg HARD, I plead! for this poor ol' silly Swan's quick recoup!! Else you know what will be next; the poor creatur will be tornadically drawn down down DOWN to the realms of...
Oh, no! Ah, Gads, NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!
[THE CROWD GASPS WITH NON-FEIGNED ABHORENCE! um, doncha??]
Slainte, Folks. And GO Cowboys, and Avalanche!!! HarAarAaar!!!!
Real live Aliens.. erm, we mean 'Cygnus'
Yeah. Really. We do.