You know, Barb, the stress of being a Mountain-Ear columnist sometimes takes a greater toll than I think you realize. I mean, here I am at my compound at Christmas, in a secure, undisclosed location, having maybe consumed too much punch, trying to come up with another Pulitzer quality column for the paper when I should be chillin’ and listening to Warren Zevon. It just gets old is all I’m saying. But I digress.

In early 1969, my dad was driving my brother (Roy Jhciacb Cohen) and me north on Colorado Boulevard in our Ford Country Squire Station Wagon for some purpose long forgotten. Although, knowing my dad, there was likely more than one purpose. And one of those was probably avoiding contact with my mom. But I digress.

We were near the White Spot restaurant where Paul Prudhomme worked, though nobody knew who he was at the time. Just a guy with a beard who made the custard-filled eclairs I craved. But I digress.

As we approached the Century 21 theater I read the marquee: 2001: A Space Odyssey. (Barb, there was no period on the marquee, so why do I have to include one in my column?) And, at the time, 2001 seemed a long freakin’ time away. Not quite eleven years old, I could not fathom that 2001 would ever arrive. But it did. And then it went. And I’ve noticed that pattern repeats itself annually. And now here we are. But I digress. No, wait, I didn’t digress. I’m right on track. Blame it on the punch. So, that got me thinking about the new year – which I guess most of you will probably call 2024. Like sheep.

But I will call the new year The Year We Must Defeat the Intergalactic Menace. Most of y’all are blissfully unaware of the Intergalactic Menace (IM) and the dangers its alien race pose to mankind. But I have studied the Intergalactic Menace, and it is a race of creatures far different from us.

These creatures don’t share our values. For instance, we value science and logic. They don’t. When we catch ourselves in a logical inconsistency, we stop. We retrace our logical steps to see where we went wrong. But these creatures don’t think that way. They wear hypocrisy as a badge of honor. In fact, their law holds that the creature that generates the most hypocrisy is their leader. And once they bestow the title of leader on one of their kind, the only way to replace that leader is to defeat him or her in a battle of hypocrisy. They even have events where spectators from their slimy race watch their leader candidates try to best each other at hypocrisy. The announcers treat these as sporting events. “Down goes Nimarata! Down goes Nimarata! Down goes Nimarata!” (They have weird names).

I know what you’re thinking. Cohen is completely baked and alone on Christmas, so he’s bought into some kind of alien race conspiracy while under the influence of substances we can’t even imagine. But the future of mankind is serious business. And so is journalism. And, as a half-Jewish person, it is my duty to come down from the mountain and tell it to you like it is. It’s not an obligation I requested, but it is nevertheless my obligation. I tell you we must defeat the Intergalactic Menace now.

Why now? Why choose defeating the Intergalactic Menace as our goal? And they may well ask, why climb the highest mountain? Why fly the Atlantic? Why does Rice play Texas? We choose to defeat the Intergalactic Menace. We choose to defeat the Intergalactic Menace in this decade and do the other things not because they are easy, but because they are hard. Because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we’re willing to accept. One we are unwilling to postpone. And therefore, as we set sail, we ask God’s blessing on the most hazardous and dangerous and greatest adventure that man has ever gone. But I digress.

Barb, remember those Mountain-Ear press credentials you gave me? Because of those, I am one of the few journalists that has ever seen these creatures close up. They can make themselves appear to look like us, but their mouths are always slightly larger. There is frequently a red or orange hue on the tops of their heads.

What makes them truly horrifying, though, is their ability to lie out of both sides of those large mouths. It’s difficult to explain how skilled they are at this, and that’s why they are so dangerous. For instance, they can convince you they are fiscally conservative while simultaneously giving tax cuts to the rich. They can persuade you to believe they love freedom while depriving you things as basic as your right to vote.

But it’s worse than that. These alien creatures can shift shapes to make themselves appear to be something they are not. They can make themselves appear to support democracy, but after the elections they return to their true reptilian form where they scoff at the rule of law and advocate the use of force to maintain their leader’s stature at any cost.

These aliens are here now. Amongst us. Don’t kid yourselves. Be warned. They will make themselves look like you. They will say what you want to hear. The Intergalactic Menace can be seductive. So, you must rely on logic. If you see Lon Chaney walking with the Queen and then you blink and see Lon Chaney, Jr., walking with the Queen, both things can’t be true. And they God-damned well both can’t be doing the werewolves of London at the same time. It’s an alien trick.

These aliens are a threat to all we hold dear, our family, our friends, our country. Prepare yourselves. Be alert to their tricks. Forewarned is forearmed.

Barb, I am at my compound, as explained above. The fact that I am using Starlink to email this to you in no way indicates my support for Elon Musk. And, by the way, I’ve noticed Musk has suddenly stopped running his admirably largemouth about his big fight with Zuckerberg. Which, as a member of the Colorado Combative Sports Commission, I assure you will never take place in Colorado).

(Also, Barb, when you run this article, so we don’t offend your readers, let’s change it up a bit. Remove all references to the “Republican party” and the “GOP” and replace it with something like the “Intergalactic Menace” or “IM.”).

And, Barb, we need to talk about my raise. I’ve attached a photo of my working conditions.