Area 51

Area 51
26 July 2012

So my foray into the mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle, made me think of a few more of life’s great mysteries.  Or should I rather say conspiracy theories?  I’m not talking weird and wonderful persecution type stuff like being spied on by “Big Brother” with a video camera through my TV.  Or having my phone tapped by the FBI, in case I’m planning an assassination attempt on the Pope.  I’m talking more mundane, as in Area 51.

I don’t believe it’s any of this mumbo-jumbo alien-shmalien stuff they’re trying to force down our throats.  Area 51 exists – fact.  Roswell exists – fact.  UFO’s don’t exist – fact.  Aliens don’t exist – fact.  We can beam “God save the queen” out in to the universe as well as one of those Beatles tunes that they keep sending into space, but I can bet you your bottom dollar – ET will not be phoning home.  There is no extra-terrestrial cover-up.  What they are trying to cover-up is actually far more sinister.  The truth behind all of this is…

Area 51 is a secret holding facility housing the following:

Colonel Sander’s secret recipe of his blend of eleven herbs and spices (KFC – greatest food ever invented – Colonel Sanders truly was da bomb!.)
The Coca Cola recipe – man that stuff is good.
Elvis is alive and well and living in Area 51.
That friggin sock that always goes missing in the washing machine.
Erasers – can never seem to find them.  If they’re not in Area 51, it is entirely possible that my kids are eating them.
My fondue set.
Those two balls we lost playing Putt-Putt.
Luke’s Leaping Wolf Badge he got when he finished Cubs.
Tennis Balls – not matter how many I buy, we can never find any at home.  If they’re not in Area 51, it is entirely possible that my kids are eating them.
The weight I lost before my wedding.  Actually on second thought, I got all of that weight back as well as a large surplus of extra weight.  Was so hoping I’d never see it again.  Perhaps it's not fair to blame this one on Area 51.
Money – I swear it simply vanishes into thin air…
Two-pronged plugs.
Spare batteries.
Riaan Cruywagen’s real hair.
My Grantie’s hair.
Those guys that wrote the “Macarena” are hiding out in Area 51.  If I ever find them, I WILL KILL THEM!  No wait, the UNIVERSE will kill them.
Those spare keys I lost in 1995.
Ear-phones.
Tweezers.
Instruction manuals.
Map books for men.
Kobus Wiese's neck.
Morne Steyn’s form – he seems to have misplaced his kicking boots.
Phil Collins’ mojo – once, a really, really long time ago he was really good – now he’s sold out to doing Disney movie soundtracks.  Just plain sad.
Babies’ dummies or pacifiers.
Bad tests that you don’t want your parents to see, never mind sign!
And finally, it is also the real home of The Easter Bunny, The Tooth Fairy, The Tooth Mouse as well as Father Christmas, his elves and his reindeers.

Actually, come to think of it, perhaps “aliens” have indeed abducted the above things and are busy doing experiments as we speak, trying to clone some our very best stuff.  All I can say is “ET, go and find your own fondue set and give mine back to me.  You can buy your own!".  And on that note…One-Maca-Two-Maca-Three-Maca-Rena!  Hey-Maca-Rena!!!