Out of the Panopticon, Into the Fire

This is that hand-written post I mentioned a couple of days ago.
Transcribed blah blah blah. Whenever I wrote it:

Stephen Hawking believes that if we find aliens, we shouldn't attempt to communicate with them.
Another classic display of a scientist's true inability to behave socially.
Finding aliens and then refusing to greet aliens would be equivalent to being lost in the Congo, encountering another guy lost in the Congo, and then acting as though he's not there.
"Oh Jesus! Thank God! Someone else is out here. I was separated from my guide and a guerrilla ate all of my provisions.
I brandished my pocket knife at him, but he took that too.
None of that matters though. So long as we stick together!
If we follow the river we should locate civilization downstream.
C'mon!"
And you just look at him blankly.
Nothing about this response says 'diplomacy.'
When it comes to space, Stephen Hawking's a genius.
But he should leave the socializing to someone else.
He's not dancing with any girls at the party, if you know what I mean.

If aliens drop in, I'm going to find a nearby roof.
And then I'm going to hold a sign for them to read as they land.
Like that chick in Independence Day.
Something like:
DO YOU THINK THESE PANTS ARE TOO SHORT?

The government is watching us, y'know.
Just like Enemy of the State.
They spent gillions of dollars, but now they can see us as soon as we step outside.
Perhaps you've heard of the project codename:
Google Maps.
It is Nineteen Eighty-Four.