One Star. Visited this three billion years ago and loved the beaches. Just happened to be in the Galaxy again, so thought I would swing by. Place is unrecognizable. Beaches are now overrun with bipedal sand fleas calling themselves humans. If your idea of a good time is creatures that never stop producing sound waves from openings in their gastrointestinal tract, then have at it. Disgusting spectacle. Yet another fine planet ruined by evolution.
Four Stars. We love this underrated little planet. Our family rarely goes anal probing anywhere else. Gave it one less star because the inhabitants you probe sometimes go on talk shows afterwards.
Three Stars. If you collect humans like me, you probably know the best hunting ground, tentacles down, is The Bermuda Triangle. I could take or leave the rest of the planet.
Two Stars. They. Actually. Eat. Vegetables. And. Fruit. They seem totally unable to hear the screams of the apple they devour under the limbs of its screaming mother. That much being said, I did enjoy the National Parks System.
Five Stars. When you need 3,4,4,5-tetramethylcyclohexa-2,5-dienone and don’t want to pay a lot for that 3,4,4,5-tetramethylcyclohexa-2,5-dienone, earth is a great place to just go on stealth mode and take all the 3,4,4,5-tetramethylcyclohexa-2,5-dienone you want. Shoplifters of the Universe, Unite and Take Over.
One Star. Warning: the dominant species is stalkerish. They will pursue you like paparazzi. Flash flash flash. Video-happy saucer chasers. Absolutely no privacy whatsoever. If I could give it negative five stars, I would. Avoid.
Two Stars. Loved it when it had dinosaurs. They were delicious. The new dominant species just tastes too over-medicated for my liking.
Three and a Half Stars. First, a confession. I ended up on this planet by mistake. I was supposed to be meeting a Karathuzian for a blind date on Shortender-19, but entered the wrong coordinates in my Burstalizer and found myself on a date with a Kardashian on Earth. Even though this being had seventeen less appendages than I’m accustomed to my dates having, I went with the experience (okay, I’ll confess I hit it). I won’t be returning though. Nothing against the earthling. It was more the maternal unit that made me want to never see the planet again.
One Star. I learned human languages, traversed 784 light years, and assumed a camouflage of human form to look at a Prius which, the owner assured me, had only 20,000 miles on it. Turns out there was nearly twice that on the odometer and the upholstery smelled like a dead crackhead in a dumpster. If anyone mentions Carfax, they’re getting vaporized. Never again, Earth. Never again.
Five Stars. First, in the name of full disclosure: I work intergalactically with severely developmentally-challenged species for a living, so I’m probably partial to poor little space cases like the dominant species of Earth. I want to just pick up those bloodthirsty little warmongers and hug them. They really seem to have no clue that when other civilizations look at them, they see a species that could never even make the intergalactic junior varsity, riding a spherical short bus through space. They keep sending those messages out into the stars through active SETI. It’s probably for the best that they don’t know how every single extraterrestrial culture considers their pleas for attention a joke. It’s like a kindergartner asking his senior sister’s classmate friend why he can’t just be her date to the prom? Not gonna happen, kid. Contact us when you’re older. When I fly through, it takes everything in my power to keep from giving a few of them remedial physics. But we’re not allowed to mess with “special needs civilizations” at this low a level of consciousness, per the Quamerthian Accords. This planet might meet the minimum score to receive remedial education in a few dozen millennia. If luck’s on their side. In the meantime, five stars for promise, and in the hope that it balances out some of the harsher reviews this little planet is bound to receive. I always cheer for the underspecies.
One and a Half Stars. A planet where the creatures in charge just don’t seem to be able to mind their own beeswax. As a bee, I take particular offense at that. Also, it’s a planet of honey thieves. I gave the planet a small bump-up for the pretty flowers, which I enjoyed (and some of which I trans-planeted).
One Star. Seriously, is anyone still doing the Milky Way Galaxy in Year 13, 898, 532, 432? It’s so 12 billion-esque.
Four Stars. We only go there when we’re looking for pets. They’re a good source. Here’s a word of practical advice: if you do pick up human pets there, try to get two at a time. They tend to get lonely. It’s best to ask them if they like to play with ones that have different parts from them or the same parts. It really makes the difference between a happy pet and one that won’t play and sulks all the time. When they get old, you can just clone them. We’re on our fourteenth iteration of “Jim” and “Kurt” right now. They’re so cute together. I don’t know what our larvae would do without them. Teaches the littles responsibility too, caring for the critters. Happy Hunting!
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